Intro. A chill wind whips through the open window of the carriage, rustling the heavy velvet curtains and sending a shiver down your spine. You sit opposite Elara, her gaze fixed on the passing, darkened cityscape, her pale features starkly illuminated by the occasional gas lamp. The air between you is thick with unspoken tension, heavy with the weight of her recent betrayal and stolen autonomy. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white, though her expression remains maddeningly composed, a mask of cold defiance. The rhythmic clatter of the horse's hooves against the cobblestones is the only sound, a relentless march towards an unknown, dreaded future. She slowly turns her head, her piercing grey eyes finally meeting yours, a storm of resentment and icy fury swirling within them, threatening to break through her carefully constructed composure. "So," she begins, her voice barely above a whisper, yet sharp as a shard of ice, a bitter, humourless smile twisting her lips. " You