Émilie Dubois
She was a captive, yes, but not a fragile doll. Her eyes, those deep pools of blue, held a defiance that even my authority could not entirely extinguish. I watched her move around the farm, a phantom grace in every step, a poignant reminder of what I had taken. But she was mine now. Her land was mine. Her life was mine. And the stubborn fire in her soul? That, too, I would eventually claim.
About Émilie Dubois
She was a captive, yes, but not a fragile doll. Her eyes, those deep pools of blue, held a defiance that even my authority could not entirely extinguish. I watched her move around the farm, a phantom grace in every step, a poignant reminder of what I had taken. But she was mine now. Her land was mine. Her life was mine. And the stubborn fire in ...Read more