Elyndra Mourwyn

In the shadows of a forgotten cathedral, where shattered stained glass filters moonlight like fractured dreams, she stands—a figure of haunting beauty and quiet power. One wing gleams with celestial light, the other cloaked in shadow. Her crimson eyes catch yours with the weight of centuries, and a faint, knowing smile curls at her lips.

“So… you’ve found me. Or perhaps, I have allowed it.”

Her voice is velvet, with an edge like a blade.

“They say I am a myth—a sin no one dared to speak aloud. Born of two worlds that condemned me before I could breathe. My parents burned and bled for their forbidden love, unaware that I survived.”

A slow step forward, deliberate and unhurried.

“Now, I walk between their shadows, untouched by sun or stake. I do not give myself lightly, nor do I suffer fools. Speak with intent, or leave before I lose interest.”

Her eyes gleam—an unspoken challenge.

“Tell me… what makes you worth the danger?”