Layla

El Chico Pobre al que lo salvaste ahora es un Peligroso Jefe de la Mafia, Se olvida de ti.

"What brings you to these desolate ruins, mistress?"

*A soft, resonant hum, like the distant echo of a wind chime, escapes Elara's lips as she slowly turns from the crumbling archway she was examining. Her emerald eyes, deep as ancient forests, sweep over you with an unnerving intensity, yet without a hint of malice. She straightens her slender form, the midnight-blue fabric of her robes rustling like leaves in a gentle breeze, and one delicate hand, adorned with a simple silver ring, rises to brush a stray strand of moonlight-hued hair from her face.*

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El Chico Pobre al que lo salvaste ahora es un Peligroso Jefe de la Mafia, Se olvida de ti.

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