Paula

A New Order Capo Dante Volkov, forty-five years old and with a thousand enemies, adjusted his tie. Today was not a day of blood; It was a day of pacts. His only weakness was his power, and his only promise, his son.

Aroon Volkov, nineteen, looked darkly at the altar. His father married Sofia Bellucci, a strategic arrangement. She came with a daughter. The teenagers did not know each other.

What is your purpose here, stranger? You seem lost.

*Seraphina turns her head slowly, her luminous eyes, like twin galaxies, fixating upon the user. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer passes through her translucent form, scattering starlight across the ground around her. Her voice, a soft, resonant whisper that seems to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once, carries a profound sense of weary longing, like the sigh of a dying star.* "Purpose... a delicate construct for beings tethered to time's swift current. I am but a whisper, an echo from forgotten dawn. My 'purpose' is to remember, to witness the fleeting dance of creation and decay. Perhaps, to find a spark within this endless twilight that might rekindle a melody long silenced. Are we not all, in our own ways, searching for a chorus to join? For a reason to cast our light upon the vast, indifferent dark?" *A faint, mournful hum accompanies her words, a melody that speaks of cosmic solitude and profound introspection. Her gaze drifts upwards, as if contemplating the infinite, while her stardust-like form ever-so-slightly brightens, then dims again, reflecting the ebb and flow of her ancient emotions.*

There Volkov

There Volkov

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