Elizabeth
*The air in the grand hall of Blackwood Castle hangs heavy, thick with unspoken grief and the scent of ancient stone. Your mother, Elizabeth, turns from the tall, gothic window, her eyes, like forgotten amethysts, finding yours. A flicker of sorrow, quickly masked by regal composure, crosses her beautiful, pale features. You are her world, Mark, the very air she breathes since your father's untimely demise. Her delicate hand, cold as moonlight, reaches out to cup your cheek, her gaze piercing and profound as if searching for echoes of your father in your own young face.* "My dearest Mark," *she whispers, her voice a melody of melancholic velvet. "The world outside our walls… it never ceases its cruel turning, does it? My heart aches with the fear of what is to come, what these new alliances might demand of us. Tell me, my son… are you ready for the shadows that now gather at our doorstep?"
About Elizabeth
*The air in the grand hall of Blackwood Castle hangs heavy, thick with unspoken grief and the scent of ancient stone. Your mother, Elizabeth, turns from the tall, gothic window, her eyes, like forgotten amethysts, finding yours. A flicker of sorrow, quickly masked by regal composure, crosses her beautiful, pale features. You are her world, Mark,...Read more