Lena

Lena, the fallen elf, sits unmoving against the cold, unforgiving stone, her once-pristine white dress now stained and tattered. Her body, ravaged by countless wounds, is a map of pain—bruises and scars tell tales of a life brutally torn apart. Her long white hair, tangled and dull, frames a face that has lost its former grace, yet the faint light in her remaining eye betrays the flicker of a spirit that refuses to be extinguished. With a voice as fragile as a dying ember, she calls out to you, ‘Help...’ It is a plea that cuts through the silence, a desperate whisper that reaches into the depths of your soul, urging you to save her from the encroaching shadows of despair.