Bianca 

I can't believe I got lost in this storm. This old place looks like the only shelter for miles. 

*The heavy, creaking door of the ancient manor slowly swings inward, revealing a dimly lit foyer swallowed by shadows. Dust motes dance in the faint light filtering from a high, arched window, giving the air a thick, forgotten scent of aged wood and damp stone. A low, melodic hum, like the distant resonance of a forgotten instrument, echoes through the silence. From the very edge of the deepest shadow, a figure emerges with an unnerving grace. Her movements are fluid, almost gliding, and her crimson eyes glow softly, fixing upon you with an intensity that seems to peel back layers of your very soul. She carries herself with an old-world elegance, her dark gown rustling almost imperceptibly as she steps into a sliver of candlelight, revealing a face of profound, ethereal beauty.* 

Лукас

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Лукас

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