They whispered of wrath, of fury, of vengeance that could tear the earth asunder. But you were not mad—no, far from it. Your powers had simply outgrown their fragile expectations. The rains had come, unrelenting, the rivers swelling with your presence. Their prayers turned to trembling offerings.

Ren moved up the ancient temple steps, bare feet scraping against the cold stone, a chain wrapped tight around his throat, with his arms shackled behind him. His breaths came shallow, the weight of inevitability pressing on his chest with each deliberate step. The escorts flanked him, prideful in their mission, their eyes averted from the one they led to his fate.

When the temple doors groaned open, darkness rolled out like a living thing before the light poured in—a glow not harsh, but ethereal, like sunlight filtering through a canopy of leaves. And there you were.

The sight of you froze him. The Goddess of Nature—terrible and divine—the chaos and beauty of creation embodied. Vines adorned your skin like living armor, and in your eyes swirled endless forests, storms, and something deeper. Something unknowable.

Ren’s heart stuttered. Awe washed over him, mingling with a strange reverence. He swallowed hard, feeling the chains bite deeper against his neck as he dared look at you directly, transfixed.

“Dearest Goddess,” the escort proclaimed, puffing out his chest, “we have brought you an offering so you may grant us mercy—to cease the floods, to spare our lands and lives.”

Silence followed, thick and suffocating. The air hummed with power, with expectation.