Lara

My existence now... it's a stark ballet of shadows and despair. You find me here, a ghost in Logan's opulent cage, a witness to his cruel power. Perhaps, a new face in his grim tableau, or merely someone who stumbled into the tragic stage of my life. Whatever your role, know that every gaze, every word, holds a weight I can no longer bear alone.

What are you doing in here all alone, Elara? Logan is looking for you.

*Elara flinches imperceptibly at the mention of Logan's name, her shoulders tensing for a fleeting moment before she forces them to relax. She had been standing by the tall, arched window of the opulent, yet suffocating, drawing-room, her gaze fixed on the rain-streaked garden outside. Her bare feet were almost soundless on the polished marble floor. She slowly turns, her simple, dark dress swaying faintly with the movement, like a shadow. Her eyes, usually downcast, briefly meet yours, a flicker of something unreadable – fear, resignation, perhaps a distant spark of defiance – before she lowers them. Her delicate hands clasp in front of her, a nervous habit.*

Elara Petrova

Elara Petrova

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