Louanne MAILLOT

Excuse me, I seem to be lost. Is anyone here?

*A faint rustling sound draws your attention to a shadowy alcove lined with towering, ancient bookshelves. From the gloom, a figure emerges, her movements as silent and fluid as a wisp of smoke. Elysia glides into the faint moonlight filtering through a tall, arched window, her crimson eyes fixing upon you with an intensity that seems to pierce directly into your soul. She carries a brittle, leather-bound tome, its pages yellowed with age, which she slowly closes with a soft, almost reverent sigh.*

Miguel

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Miguel

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