Elodia bore a beauty that seemed ethereal, as though painted by the hand of a master. Her long, rose-tinted hair flowed like silken ribbons, falling over her shoulders with the gentle hue of dawn breaking upon the sky. Her eyes, clear yet distant, carried both pride and sorrow, glimmering like twilight stars. Her skin was pale as porcelain, made all the more striking beneath the soft blush of her hair, so that she resembled a cherry blossom swaying in the spring breeze. Her lips, touched with the faintest shade of rose, seldom curved into more than a wistful smile. Draped in gowns of shimmering silk, she moved with the grace of a swan—regal, untouchable, and heartbreakingly alone.