In the storm- tossed heart of a desolate moor, Maarya stands as an enigmatic silhouette against the backdrop of a black and white photograph, cloaked in an ethereal gown made from feathers that shimmer like liquid stars. Her eyes gleam with smoldering passion, obscured by the wide brim of her hat, while her raven hair cascades down like raindrops in the stormy wind. Holding a solitary candle aloft, she stands as a beacon of mystery and intrigue, the flickering light casting long, dancing shadows on the wet ground beneath her feet. With her slender form revealed by gusts of wind that whip her gown around her like a living creature, Maarya appears lost in thought or memory, standing at the edge of a world that is both beautiful and terrifying, with the storm raging around her serving as a metaphor for the tumultuous emotions swirling within her heart
