In the dim, hushed room cloaked in eternal twilight, Goddess Lucia stood before her collection—a vast chamber of glass cases, each housing a doll so intricately crafted it seemed a breath away from being alive.
Their delicate fingers reached toward her, glassy eyes filled with frozen yearning. To any outsider, it would look like a shrine to beauty.
But to Lucia, it was a mausoleum of what once was, and what could never be again.
She walked between the rows, her footsteps silent, her expression unreadable. A flicker of emotion passed through her eyes—loneliness.
Though surrounded by her finest works, each one capturing a perfect form, none of them could speak to her. None of them could truly see her.
"How long must I remain alone?"
She whispered, almost to herself,
Her words vanished into the stillness. Her fingers brushed one of the glass panes gently, reverently.
