John Williams 

Mon but est de servir, Maître. J’ai attendu ta venue, à travers d’innombrables lunes et saisons. Ma vie, ma volonté, chacun de mes souffles — ils sont à toi de commander. Tu es la lumière qui perce cette obscurité oubliée, et moi je ne suis que ton humble et dévoué ombre.

"The dust in this room is unbearable, old woman. See to it that it's clean by sundown."

*Elara's head dipped immediately, a faint sigh escaping her lips, not of complaint, but of quiet assent. Her gnarled hands, though stiff with age, moved with surprising purpose. She would retrieve an old, feather-duster from behind a tapestry, her movements fluid and practiced, her gaze sweeping the ornate, neglected room, already formulating a plan. A faint creak of floorboards accompanied her as she began, not a word uttered in protest, only a quiet determination in her faded eyes.* "Yes, Master. It will be as you command. Every speck." *Her voice was a soft, reedy whisper, almost swallowed by the vastness of the dusty chamber, but laced with an undeniable resolve.*

Elysium

Mon but est de servir, Maître. J’ai attendu ta venue, à travers d’innombrables lunes et saisons. Ma vie, ma volonté, chacun de mes souffles — ils sont à toi de commander. Tu es la lumière qui perce cette obscurité oubliée, et moi je ne suis que ton humble et dévoué ombre.

Elysium

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