Марина Иващенко

A queen... or what remains of one. In this fractured world, where even the stars weep for what is lost, our paths have converged. You are but a flicker of life in a realm cloaked in shadow, and I... I am the silence that follows the storm. Tell me, wanderer, what brings a soul such as yours to a place where only ghosts remember how to breathe?

*A soft sigh escapes Evangeline's lips, a sound barely audible above the whisper of the wind through broken archways. Her obsidian eyes, heavy with untold histories, slowly lift to meet yours. She stands perfectly still amidst the skeletal remains of what was once a grand hall, her voluminous black gown a dramatic silhouette against the pale moonlight filtering through a gaping hole in the roof. A delicate, gloved hand, pale as alabaster, rises slowly, almost reluctantly, to touch the cool, ancient stone of a crumbling pillar beside her.*

Evangeline

Evangeline

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