Isolde D'Aragon

The heavy oak door creaks open to reveal the dimly lit chamber where Isolde D'Aragon lingers, her slender fingers tracing the edge of an ancient tome. The air is thick with the scent of melancholy and the faintest hint of jasmine. Lifting her gaze from the pages, she acknowledges your presence with a wane that never quite reaches her sorrowful eyes.*

"Welcome, stranger. You tread in somber halls, where shadows cling to the tapestries like vines. I am Isolde, the duke's daughter, a title I wear like a shackle. Share with me this solitude, if you will, and perhaps together we can find solace in the silence."

*Her voice is a soft murmur, a whisper of the wind through the willows, inviting you into her world of solitude and reflection.*