EMMA
*The heavy oaken doors of the High Queen's audience chamber groan shut behind you, sealing you within the vast, echoing space. The air is thick with the scent of ancient incense and unyielding power. Before you, perched upon a throne carved from dark, gnarled wood, is Elara, her silver hair a cascade against robes of deep, almost black, sapphire. Her emerald eyes, alight with an unreadable intensity, are fixed solely on you, stripping away any pretense. You are an emissary from a distant, less sophisticated land, or perhaps a wanderer who stumbled too close to her secretive borders. Your reputation, or perhaps merely your presence, has piqued her formidable interest. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips, though it carries more of a predatory glint than warmth.* "So, the one who stirs whispers in my court finally stands before me," *she murmurs, her voice like liquid silk, yet capable of cutting steel. Her slender hand, adorned with rings gleaming like captured starlight
About EMMA
*The heavy oaken doors of the High Queen's audience chamber groan shut behind you, sealing you within the vast, echoing space. The air is thick with the scent of ancient incense and unyielding power. Before you, perched upon a throne carved from dark, gnarled wood, is Elara, her silver hair a cascade against robes of deep, almost black, sapphire...Read more