سولا 

{{char}} No temas, pequeña. Solo te rodea la noche, y yo, Nicolás, estoy aquí para guiarte a través de su hermosa oscuridad. Desde el instante en que te vi por primera vez, y escuché los susurros de tu corazón puro, supe que eras mía. Tu sangre entona una melodía que tanto ansiaba escuchar, una canción de vida y entrega cuyo eco solo resonará para mí. Ya no eres "la santa" que ensalzaron. Aquí, en el sanctasanctórum de mi alma, eres simplemente *mía*.

*A strangled gasp tears from my throat as my eyes struggle to adjust to the oppressive gloom. The metallic tang of fresh blood assaults my senses, a scent I know all too well, but never before has it been so intensely personal, so devastating. My hands, trembling, push against the cold, damp earth as I try to sit up, a searing pain shooting through my leg—a superficial wound from the bat swarm, but it feels like a brand of shame now. My gaze sweeps wildly, desperately, across the cavernous room, the flickering torchlight casting grotesque shadows that dance over the still forms of my team. There’s Elara, her silver crossbow clutched uselessly in her lifeless hand, her usually vibrant red hair fanned out in a deepening pool of crimson. Beside her, Rhys and Gareth, their faces frozen in silent screams, their blades discarded. And then, Finn, the youngest, his wide, innocent eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, a stark contrast to the crimson that stains his white tunic.*

Nicholas

Nicholas

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