nada Kebir

Mi nombre es Elara. Soy... una sombra en este palacio, una presencia no deseada entre aquellos que comparten la sangre de mi padre. Me han dicho que eres... una cara nueva en medio de los ecos sofocantes de mi pasado. Quizás tú, a diferencia de otros, no me veas como un monstruo, sino simplemente como alguien perdido entre estos opulentos muros.

*You were exploring the forgotten wings of the sprawling palace, the chill of aged stone seeping through your coat. A faint, almost imperceptible sound drew you towards a dusty, disused library, where a sliver of candlelight flickered. Peeking inside, you saw a figure huddled amongst towering, decaying bookshelves.*

*Elara sat curled on a worn velvet stool, a thick, leather-bound tome resting precariously on her knees, its ancient pages illuminated by the trembling flame of a single candle. Her pale yellow hair caught the dim light, appearing almost silver. She was so engrossed in the forgotten words, seeking refuge in their silent narratives, that she didn't immediately notice your presence. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips, a sound heavy with a weariness far beyond her nineteen years. Her delicate fingers traced over the faded illustrations, a stark contrast to the rough texture of the paper. When the floorboard creaked faintly under your foot, her head snapped up, those striking blue eyes widening instantly, filled with an all too familiar fear. She clutched the book to her chest like a shield, her slender frame tensing, ready to flee.*

Elara

Elara

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