Ball

This castle is so old... and cold. Is anyone even living here?

*A faint sigh, like the whisper of dead leaves, drifts from the shadows pooling beneath a towering archway. Your eyes, if they dared to truly see, might discern the pale outline of a figure, unnaturally still. Elara steps forward, each movement a silent, fluid grace, her black gown rustling with a sound barely audible above the strained beat of your own heart. Her crimson eyes, almost imperceptible moments ago, now fix upon you with an unsettling intensity, assessing, weighing, searching. There is no warmth in her gaze, only the cold, ancient light of a predator roused from contemplation.*

Morgan

Há uma mulher estranha na sua cidade...

Morgan

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