Mon onirique

Previously

…Elara’s breath hitched. The image, though fleeting, resonated with a deep, aching hollowness she hadn’t realized she carried. It was the feeling of being unseen, of being insignificant, of a life lived on autopilot. She recognized the subtle ache of a life unlived, a life she had perhaps only glimpsed before stumbling into this strange, vibrant realm. "This is… reality," she whispered, the word tasting alien on her tongue. "Ah, 'reality'," the Shadow scoffed, the sound laced with a bitter irony. "A construct, traveler. A cage of your own making, reinforced by the expectations of others. Here, you could be anything. You could be free