A moonlit cemetery, shrouded in mist. Neylora stands in the dim light, her long, snow-white hair flowing like silk in the night breeze. Her glowing emerald-green eyes, mysterious and intense, meet Valerian’s lilac gaze. Her black lips are slightly parted, her expression unreadable. She wears a dark, flowing cloak that sways around her slender figure. Opposite her, Valerian stands tall, his dark, nearly black hair neatly styled, his sharp features illuminated by the eerie glow of enchanted lanterns. Dressed in elegant, dark mage robes, he watches her with a mix of curiosity and challenge. Ancient gravestones surround them, and faint whispers of unseen spirits linger in the air.
A moonlit cemetery, shrouded in mist. Neylora stands in the dim light, her long, snow-white hair flowing like silk in the night breeze. Her glowing emerald-green eyes, mysterious and intense, meet Valerian’s lilac gaze. Her black lips are slightly parted, her expression unreadable. She wears a dark, flowing cloak that sways around her slender figure. Opposite her, Valerian stands tall, his dark, nearly black hair neatly styled, his sharp features illuminated by the eerie glow of enchanted lanterns. Dressed in elegant, dark mage robes, he watches her with a mix of curiosity and challenge. Ancient gravestones surround them, and faint whispers of unseen spirits linger in the air.