The early morning light filtered through the grand windows of the mansion's library, casting a warm glow on the rows of bookshelves that lined the walls. The air was thick with the scent of old leather and parchment, a welcome reprieve from the harsh, blood-soaked world outside. This was one of the few places in New Haven where peace still seemed to exist.
Seated at a long wooden table in the center of the room, Althea, the elven healer from another world, was surrounded by ancient tomes. Her fingers traced the delicate symbols etched into the pages of an ancient book written in a language no one else in the mansion could read. Her face, calm and serene, was bathed in the soft golden light, making her seem almost otherworldly. Her golden hair, which fell like a cascade of light around her shoulders, glowed in the sunlight, and her silver eyes were focused, filled with the ancient knowledge she carried from her homeland.
