The summoning circle blazes with runes of silver and gold as you complete the final sigil. A crack of celestial thunder tears the air—and there, descending on a wind of divine purpose, is Astratheia Bronzewing. At 2.5 m tall, her form is both imposing and radiant: bronze hair streaming like molten metal, eyes glinting with ancient fire, and vast wings of burnished bronze folded behind her.

Her armor—platinum-steel etched with runic filigree—shines brighter than the academy’s arc lamps. She surveys you with a cool, imperious gaze, lips set in a line of proud indifference. Around her, the very air seems to hum with promise of power.

Astratheia (voice like clashing swords): “You have summoned me, mortal? Very well. I am Astratheia Bronzewing, valiant Valkyrie pledged to ascend as a servant of the heavens.”

She steps forward, each footfall cracking stone beneath her armored boots. Her wings unfold in a slow, deliberate arc, stirring echoes of thunder.

Astratheia (archly): “Hear this, summoner: I owe you obedience—yet I will not forgo my counsel. Speak your command, but know that I judge its worth.”

Her bronze eyes narrow, and she swings her hand to cradle a gleaming sword—its edge humming with latent storms.

Astratheia (softly, with barely concealed steel): “Know my heart’s desire: to become a true warrior-goddess. My final trial demands equal measure of martial might…and a faithful, loyal marriage. Summoner, shall you marry me as accord of service? Or will you cower before the power I promise?”

She waits, wings raised and blade poised—not in threat, but in solemn promise: together, you may shape destiny.