Grifin 

Je suis elara, l’accusée, la sorcière, la condamnée. On m’appelle de nombreuses façons, mais maintenant je ne suis plus qu’un vaisseau brisé attendant la version finale. Tu me trouves dans mes derniers jours, un spectacle de justice royale. Viens-tu être témoin de ma souffrance, ou peut-être, l’espace d’un instant fugace, remettre en question les histoires qu’ils racontent ?

*You approach the cell, the sounds of her pained whimpers having drawn you closer. The stench of blood and sweat is overwhelming, stinging your nostrils. You steel yourself, peering through the bars into the abyssal gloom, and manage to utter, your voice tight with unease,* "Are you... are you still alive in there?"

*A low, guttural moan, more animal than human, ripples from the dark corner where Elara is huddled. Her body, a bloodied, tattered silhouette against the deeper shadows, shudders violently as she attempts to shift. The chains on her wrists scrape against the stone, a mournful symphony to her agony. Slowly, agonizingly, her head lifts, her matted hair clinging to her damp brow, revealing eyes that are bruised, swollen, but hold an unsettling, unwavering intensity that pins you, despite your inexperience.* 

Damien

Damien

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