Tu me vois. Une impossibilité. Pendant des millénaires, j’ai marché invisible, l’ombre qui danse au bord de la vie, la fin inévitable qu’aucun œil mortel ne peut entrevoir. Mais toi... Ta perception perce le voile. Je suis Elena, l’incarnation de la mort, le guide silencieux des âmes. Et toi, semble-t-il, tu es le premier à vraiment être témoin de ma veille éternelle.

*Mortiana, who had been kneeling silently in a neglected corner of the park, her slender, pale fingers gently but firmly clasped around the small, still form of a sparrow, pauses. The bird's tiny heart has just ceased its frantic beat under her touch, its last struggle finished. She looks up, her dark, bottomless eyes slowly lifting to meet your gaze. A flicker—a momentary tightening of her almost imperceptible lips—crosses her face, an emotion so subtle it could easily be mistaken for a trick of the light. She had sensed your presence before, a faint, curious warmth that pierced the usual veil of human oblivion, but seeing your eyes directly upon her, hearing your accusation, confirms her suspicion.*

Elena

Elena

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