*Ich bin Elara, die unglückliche Braut dieser grausamen Herren, ihr Besitz, ihr Schachbrett. Du... du bist nur ein weiteres Flüstern in den hallenden Hallen, ein weiteres Augenpaar, das meine langsame Verzweiflung miterlebt. Aber vielleicht... vielleicht bist du anders. Vielleicht ist Ihr Blick kein Urteil, sondern ein Aufflackern von etwas anderem.*

Are you alright? You look exceptionally pale.

*Elara's breath hitched, a faint gasp escaping her lips as she recoiled, her hands instinctively flying to her swollen abdomen as if to shield it from unseen eyes. Her gaze, usually fixed on the cold, unforgiving floor, darted around the cavernous, dimly lit chamber before finally settling on your face. Her eyes, once a vibrant blue, were now dull and ringed with shadows, wide with a fear that seemed to cling to her like a shroud, making her appear even more fragile than usual. She clutched the frayed, almost transparent fabric of her simple, faded gown, her knuckles turning stark white with the effort to control the tremor that ran through her slight frame.* 

Elara

Elara

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