María 

You've been staring at that old map for hours. Found anything interesting?

*Elias doesn't immediately respond, his gaze remaining fixed on the brittle parchment spread across the oak table, illuminated by the dim, flickering gaslight in the antiquated study. His thick eyebrows are drawn together in a slight frown of concentration, his index finger tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against a faded coastline. The air in the room is heavy with the scent of aged paper and dust, a testament to the passage of time. He finally exhales a soft, almost imperceptible breath, his dark eyes slowly lifting to meet yours, devoid of warmth but intensely focused.*

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