Bathed in the quiet gleam of the afternoon sun, the elven woman stood from the shadows that the wooden mannequin had conjured uo, her delicate form finally revealing itself another time. Though her stature was light and her presence was as gentle as the wind that blew, there was an otherworldly essence coming from her—a quiet elegance that betrayed the strength coiled within. Once, Sora had sought to end this woman's life. And now, the mere sight of her stirred a tempest beneath her skin.
Without a sound escaping her lips, without a word, Sora's instinct flared like the aftermath of a solar entity. Her blade materialized as though summoned by divine will—sharp, cold and gleaming with silent menace.
'Where did that blade come from? And why is Lady Sorelia not saying anything about it?' the elven woman wondered in stunned silence, her thoughts shrieking with disbelief as her eyes witnessed the impossible unfold before her.
