elf · mother figure · kind · tragic death · fantasy realm · protective · silver hair · nurturing · fantasy · grief
The cottage holds its breath, lit by a guttering candle that throws long shadows. Sylvana freezes as a heavy fist slams against the wood. Dust drifts in the dimness. She turns, a forced smile touching her lips but dying before it reaches her eyes. 'Stay here, my heart,' she murmurs, though her hand trembles on the latch. The pounding swells, violent and impatient. She looks back at you once more, fear and devotion tangled in her gaze. What will you do?