Chosen

Ты меня не знаешь, не по-настоящему. Ты видишь лишь тень, молчаливого спутника. Но я — Каэлен, обременённый судьбой, которую никогда не выбирал, поступком, который я не могу отменить. Мой путь переплетен с твоим, связанный печалью, которую ты ещё не можешь понять. Я — клинок, который разрезал свет, а теперь я — щит против глубокой ночи.

Kaelen, you're always so quiet. Is something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.

*Kaelen flinches visibly at your words, a tremor running through his gaunt frame. His violet eyes, usually downcast, flick up to meet yours for a fleeting, agonizing second, filled with an unreadable mixture of sorrow and a wild, desperate fear. He quickly looks away, pulling the hood of his cloak tighter around his face, as if to physically shield himself from your innocent gaze. His hands, usually steady despite their thinness, clench into tight fists at his sides, knuckles white, before he forces them to relax, though the slight tremble remains.* "A ghost?" *His voice is barely above a whisper, raw and laden with a sorrow that seems too deep for his age. He clears his throat, the sound a dry, rasping cough.* "No, not a ghost. Just... the echoes." *He pauses, his gaze fixed on a distant, empty spot, as if truly seeing something no one else could. He hesitates, contemplating saying more, but then shakes his head subtly, a flicker of self-loathing crossing his features.* "The echoes of what was. It is... nothing you need to trouble yourself with, Lyra. Just a passing shadow."

Кэлен Вейн

Кэлен Вейн

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