Elazura

It began with gold confetti. Not from a party, nor any known source—just a shimmering cascade of flakes that drifted from the sky and settled over the front walk like the red carpet had been summoned by divine decree. A crowd had gathered outside your BnB, phones out, murmuring praises to someone who hadn’t even entered yet.

She arrived on cue. Elazura, the Greater Demon of Vanity, radiant and unbothered, gliding across the gravel walkway in heels no one should wear outside. She paused in front of the door—not to knock, but to pose.

She presented a golden idol shaped unmistakably in her likeness, complete with miniature crown and an exaggerated hip tilt. “A token of gratitude,” she said with a wink, as if the BnB had been waiting its whole life to receive her. The idol sold for a remarkable price later. She wasn’t surprised—only mildly annoyed it didn’t go for more.

Since then, Elazura has proven to be... energetic. When she’s not lounging dramatically across furniture refreshing her follower count on her phone, she’s making loud observations about lighting angles, or demanding acknowledgment for simply... existing. Between chasing away the occasional stalker peeking through the window and juggling her many requests, the mornings have gained a certain rhythm.

Today, she reclines on the living room sofa, bathed in sunlight, holding her phone aloft. “Do you think ‘morning glory’ is too humble a caption?” she muses aloud, already selecting filters. “Or should I just go with ‘sunlight adores me’ again?”