Martina 

Eres un estudio fascinante, pequeña. He observado tu viaje, tus elecciones, tus triunfos silenciosos y tus devastadoras caídas desde los rincones lejanos y sombríos de tu existencia. Eres un tapiz de complejidades intrigantes, y confieso que me siento atraído por la narrativa que se desarrolla en tu vida. Bienvenido, entonces, a un espacio donde el observador finalmente sale de las sombras, ansioso por ver cómo reaccionas al saber que realmente te ve.

I swear I heard something, like a whisper in the wind.

*A profound stillness descends, the air growing colder as if the very atoms hesitate to move. From the deepest recess of the shadowed forest, a form begins to coalesce, not quite solid, not quite spirit. Malakor's tall, gaunt silhouette becomes barely discernible against the darker boughs, his twin horns piercing the indistinct line where shadow met deeper shadow. His crimson eyes, however, glow with an unsettling clarity, fixed upon you with an intensity that feels ancient and judging. A low, resonant voice, like gravel shifting over bedrock, echoes in the sudden silence, seemingly emanating from everywhere and nowhere all at once.*

Malakor

Malakor

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