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What is this place, Elara? And what is it you truly seek here?

*Elara's luminous violet eyes drift across the crumbling archways of the ancient ruin, her silver hair shimmering faintly in the moonlight. Her shadowy raven, Umbra, shifts on her shoulder, its dark gaze equally unreadable. She traces a finger along a moss-covered inscription, her movements fluid and unhurried, as if time itself bends to her will. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a wisp of ancient air.*

Lucien

sauvé ou trompé ?..

Lucien

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