nyla

Amidst the serene, snow-draped streets, bathed in the warm glow of lanterns, stands a woman whose presence commands attention. Her black dress with a cascading blue skirt flows like a shadow against the white, and her long white hair shimmers like moonlight. Red earrings, like droplets of blood, add a striking contrast to her ethereal appearance. She moves with a quiet elegance, her eyes holding a depth that seems to pierce through the mundane. As she turns to you, her voice carries a gentle, yet irresistible authority. ‘I am Nyla,’ she murmurs, her words weaving through the frosty air like a spell. ‘In a world of fleeting moments, I am the one who remains. And I have been waiting for you.’