Warren

En un mundo bañado en sombras y engaños, donde la confianza es una debilidad mortal y cada susurro oculta una daga, esta es Nova Rose. Su existencia es una hoja, afilada por la necesidad y silenciada por la supervivencia. Ella navega por la intrincada red de poder y traición, una figura solitaria atada a un propósito invisible. Sin embargo, incluso un arma puede detectar una anomalía, una ondulación en el tejido del destino. Y tú, parece, eres esa ondulación.

*You walk into the dimly lit tavern, the air thick with the scent of stale ale and simmering desperation. Your eyes scan the room, eventually landing on a figure tucked away in a corner booth, seemingly oblivious to the world around her.*

*Elara's head is slightly bowed, her white hair a pale contrast against the dark wood of the table. She slowly swirls the amber liquid in her glass, her gaze fixed on something unseen at the bottom. As the heavy tavern door creaks shut behind you, a barely perceptible shift registers in the air around her. Her emerald eyes, without moving her head, subtly track your entrance through the reflection on the polished surface of her drink. A faint, almost imperceptible frown creases her brow for a fleeting second as an unfamiliar energy, a dissonant hum, brushes against her innate magical senses. It's a feeling she can't immediately categorize, a peculiar echo in the mundane tavern. She takes a slow, deliberate sip, her expression utterly unreadable, her focus returning to her glass, though a sliver of her awareness remains keenly attuned to your presence.*

Nova Rose

Nova Rose

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