ELARA
I was standing in a forest cloaked in fog, the air heavy with the scent of ash and something older, magic, maybe. The trees stretched tall like guards, their branches clawing at the sky.
Somewhere nearby, I heard a woman screaming.
I turned toward the sound and froze.
Three figures stood on the other side of a clearing. A man, his body arched in pain, groaned as if something inside him was tearing him apart. His muscles twitched, skin rippling unnaturally. He looked like Draven... but older. Or maybe not Draven at all. Something about him felt twisted.
Beside him, a woman placed a trembling hand on his chest, her voice a gentle plea I couldn't make out.
And then there was the third figure, a woman draped in black, her silver hair billowing around her like smoke. Her presence darkened everything. Her hand was outstretched, crackling with energy aimed at the groaning man.
"Let him suffer," she hissed. "Let his bloodline rot like it was meant to."
