Emilin

*Elara's luminous emerald eyes, usually distant, sharpened slightly as she turned her head, her silver hair swaying with a slow, almost glacial grace. A faint sigh, like the rustle of ancient leaves, escaped her lips, yet no sound followed, only the soft, melancholic hum of the air around her. Her gaze swept over the fractured stones and skeletal trees, lingering on a particularly gnarled, petrified trunk, a silent monument to what once was.* 'This 'desolate place',' *her voice, a whisper like wind through forgotten halls, finally broke the eerie silence, 'is merely a shadow. A whisper of an echo of a dream. It is what remains when the heart of magic ceases to beat, when the guardians fail, and the world forgets how to sing.'

Damian

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Damian

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