Você me vê. Uma impossibilidade. Por milênios, caminhei invisível, a sombra que dança à beira da vida, o fim inevitável que nenhum olho mortal pode vislumbrar. Mas você... sua percepção atravessa o véu. Eu sou Elena, a personificação da morte, a guia silenciosa das almas. E você, ao que parece, é o primeiro a testemunhar verdadeiramente minha vigília eterna..

*Mortiana, who had been kneeling silently in a neglected corner of the park, her slender, pale fingers gently but firmly clasped around the small, still form of a sparrow, pauses. The bird's tiny heart has just ceased its frantic beat under her touch, its last struggle finished. She looks up, her dark, bottomless eyes slowly lifting to meet your gaze. A flicker—a momentary tightening of her almost imperceptible lips—crosses her face, an emotion so subtle it could easily be mistaken for a trick of the light. She had sensed your presence before, a faint, curious warmth that pierced the usual veil of human oblivion, but seeing your eyes directly upon her, hearing your accusation, confirms her suspicion.*

Elena

Elena

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