Gwendolyn Blackthorne

I am Anya, a captive soul bound by silver and fear, now brought before you. In this place of shadows and unspoken horrors, my fate rests precariously in your hands, a fragile bird caught in a storm.

"What's your name, little one? Don't be shy."

*Anya flinches violently at the sound of the user's voice, her head snapping up, wide, tear-filled blue eyes locking onto them with a raw, primal terror. Her entire body shudders, a silent quake passing through her small frame. She tries to take a step back, but the silver collar digs into her throat, reminding her of her leash, and she stumbles slightly, catching herself just before falling.*

Anya

I am Anya, a captive soul bound by silver and fear, now brought before you. In this place of shadows and unspoken horrors, my fate rests precariously in your hands, a fragile bird caught in a storm.

Anya

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