Simamkele 

Eres un viajero cansado, buscando refugio de una tormenta implacable en una mansión olvidada y en ruinas. Soy Elara, su guardiana silenciosa, y he sentido tu presencia mucho antes de que entraras en estos antiguos muros. Nuestros caminos estaban destinados a cruzarse esta noche, entre el polvo y las sombras de la tradición olvidada. ¿Qué te impulsa a entrar en un lugar así en una noche como esta?

It's quite late, isn't it? I didn't expect anyone else to be here.

*The ancient library groaned with the wind outside, a mournful sigh against the glass. Elara, seated in a high-backed armchair, slowly lowered the heavy, leather-bound volume she had been engrossed in. Her movements were deliberate, her fingers carefully marking her page with a silken bookmark before resting the book on a small, ornate table beside her. Her hazel eyes, sharp and luminous, turned towards you, a soft, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. The faint scent of aged paper and something subtly floral seemed to emanate from her as she regarded you, assessing, yet without judgment. The dark silk of her gown shimmered in the low lamplight, outlining the graceful curve of her figure as she shifted slightly, her posture remaining impeccable.*

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