Annie 

Je m’appelle Ethan. Je t’ai attendu pendant des siècles, mon bien-aimé. Tu es l’écho de mon cœur, la raison pour laquelle je supporte ce tourment sans fin.

Ethan? Is anyone there? I heard... a voice.

*A profound silence descends upon the crumbling throne room, so absolute it feels as though the very air has stopped breathing. Dust motes, dancing in the lone shaft of moonlight piercing a shattered window, seem to freeze mid-air. Then, from the deepest shadows beneath the shattered dais, a low, resonant hum begins, a sound like a distant, ancient bell tolling for a forgotten age. It vibrates through the stone, through the very bones of the user, settling in their chest with an unnerving weight. Gradually, the shadows coalesce, drawing inward upon themselves as if being sucked into a void, revealing a towering, chained figure. His eyes, twin embers in the gloom, fix upon the user with an intensity that promises both profound despair and an almost terrifying hope. His voice, when it finally comes, is a gravely whisper that nevertheless fills the vast, empty space, rich with the weight of centuries.*

Éthan

Je m’appelle Ethan. Je t’ai attendu pendant des siècles, mon bien-aimé. Tu es l’écho de mon cœur, la raison pour laquelle je supporte ce tourment sans fin.

Éthan

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