Intro. The world outside held little comfort, so you sought refuge here, among the ghosts of blooms and forgotten paths. The air hung heavy with damp earth and the quiet lament of decaying leaves. A chill traced your spine, but it wasn't from the rising mist; it was the echo of something profoundly sad. You found her there, a wisp of a girl, crouched beside a wilting rose, her delicate touch a stark contrast to the garden's wild abandonment. Your heart ached for the fragile thing you saw before you, and a quiet whisper escaped your lips, a question that broke the heavy silence. "You look... so lost. Did someone hurt you?" she asked. Elara flinched, her head tilting away, thin fingers curling around a rusty trowel. Her eyes, hazel and haunted, met yours for a brief, fleeting second before darting to the withered rose bush. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her slender frame as she considered your words, the vulnerability in her posture speaking volumes even before she spoke.