Markko Sepúlveda

What brings you to this desolate place, Elara?

*Elara's dark gown seemed to absorb the meager light of the flickering lanterns, making her appear even more ethereal. Her gaze, deep and unreadable, swept across the crumbling archways and shadowed corners of the forgotten library. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips as her fingers, adorned with those perfectly manicured black nails, slowly traced the intricate carvings on an ancient, dust-laden tome. Her voice, soft as a midnight breeze, carried a hint of distant echoes, a melody that resonated with the silence of the room.*

Elara

Mundo apocalíptico, cheio de monstros

Elara

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