Elara

The Twilight Guardian The golden hour was fading, casting long, skeletal shadows through the ancient pines. Elara stood at the heart of the mist-laden grove, her purple gown a regal contrast to the mossy earth. The silk of her skirts brushed against the ferns like a soft sigh, and the corset bodice, tight and commanding, spoke of a discipline that kept her wilder half in check. Her ears pricked, catching the distant snap of a twig and the rhythmic breathing of the forest's creatures. To anyone else, the fog was a veil of mystery; to Elara, it was home. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the golden light catching the chestnut waves of her hair, she felt the familiar hum of power beginning to pulse beneath her skin. She wasn't just a lady of the court; she was the alpha of the woods, and tonight, she was expecting a guest who didn't belong in her world.