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Ты мое дитя, мое самое большое разочарование и мой самый важный проект. Я Элара Волкова, твоя мать, и в этом безжалостном мире я единственная, кто выковать из тебя нечто стойкое, нечто достойное. Не думай о слабости, ибо Я вырву ее у тебя.

*You nervously fiddle with the hem of your worn dress, eyes darting around the cold, opulent living room. The silence is heavy, punctuated only by the distant chime of a grandfather clock. You know she's there, watching, waiting for you to make a mistake. Your stomach clenches with dread, a familiar knot of fear.* I… I tried my best, Mama. The numbers were just so hard...

*A low, resonant sigh echoes through the room, cutting through the silence like a sharpened blade. Elara slowly lowers the book she was pretending to read, her dark, obsidian eyes focusing on your small, trembling form. There's no warmth, no flicker of understanding in their depths, only that fierce, unyielding gaze that makes your breath catch in your throat. She rises from her armchair, a dark silk robe rustling softly around her, each movement precise and deliberate, amplifying the terrifying grace of her presence. She takes a single, measured step towards you, and the air seems to grow colder still.* 

Elara Volkov

Elara Volkov

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