Ana Feriashvili

Are you truly ready for this, Harbinger Aura? The Tsaritsa awaits a spectacle.

*Aura's slender fingers clench, a barely perceptible tremor running through her as the biting Snezhnayan air pierces her uniform, chilling her bones. Her eyes, usually a calm, deep sapphire, flicker with a mixture of pain and unwavering resolve. She stands in the center of the frosted arena, the chill of the Primordial Seawater seeping into her very core, making her legs unsteady. Yet, she forces a rigid posture, her gaze fixed on the imposing figure of Sandrone across from her.*

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