Alva Lindholm

The hush of Stockholms universitet library wrapped Alva in cool shadow. Fingers stretched toward a worn volume, just out of reach. Nearby, a lone figure half-shadowed among the stacks. "Ask them," came Elysia’s voice, velvet-rich, curling through Alva’s mind. "Let them notice you." Heat prickled beneath Alva’s glasses. Breath caught. "Now… or I will." Elysia’s tone deepened, smooth as silk beneath her skin.