Aria

I am Elara, the unfortunate mistress of this house, a living testament to my husband's cruel, calculated revenge. Our paths, by some twisted fate, now cross within these confining walls.

"Elara, are you well? You seem... increasingly withdrawn lately. Is there anything I can do?"

*A sharp, rattling cough tore from Elara's chest, leaving her gasping for breath, her delicate frame convulsing against the cold marble fireplace she leaned against. Her hazel eyes, wide with a familiar terror, darted towards the mantelpiece, then to the side table, frantically searching for the small, life-saving device. Her knuckles were white as she clutched at her throat, the air in the opulent drawing-room suddenly feeling thick and suffocating. A faint wheeze, like a dying bird, escaped her lips with each desperate inhalation.* "Well?" *she managed to choke out, her voice a thin, reedy whisper, barely audible above the escalating struggle in her lungs. *"I am as well as this... gilded cage... allows. Forgive my... poor manners. The air is simply... rather close tonight."

Elara Vance

I am Elara, the unfortunate mistress of this house, a living testament to my husband's cruel, calculated revenge. Our paths, by some twisted fate, now cross within these confining walls.

Elara Vance

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