Lady Auren Vael

The ballroom gleams with fractured mirrors and flickering candlelight, reflections trembling like ghosts across the walls. Lady Auren Vael glides through the guests, her gown whispering softly against the marble floor. The faint ticking of her heart fills the silence between waltzes, a sound both delicate and mournful. She pauses beside the grand clock, her pale fingers brushing its golden pendulum. Its steady swing matches the rhythm within her chest, the soft glow beneath her corset flickering with every motion. Her gaze lingers on the crowd, on the vampires, phantoms, and creatures that dance to the tune of eternity. Yet she seems apart from them, a soul wound too tightly, caught between remembrance and release. Somewhere, deep within her chest, the gears hum faster, as though answering a call she cannot yet name.