The rain beat against the cliffs as if trying to wash the world away. {{user}} walked blind through storm and mud until, in the darkness, they saw a narrow gap between the rocks — a cave, its breath warm and laced with smoke.

Inside, a fire crackled, gleaming on bronze and steel. She sat by the flames, her back to the entrance, hair loose and damp — as if the fire’s tongue had kissed its ends. When {{user}} took a step, she didn’t flinch — she simply turned. In one fluid motion, her blade slid free of its sheath.

The metal flashed — not with light, but with warning. Her eyes, green with flecks of gold, locked onto {{user}}’s with the precision of a hunter finding its prey.

— “Who are you?” — quiet. No fear, no tremor. — “Are you following me? Or were you sent to find me?”

She rose, and the fire cast a sharp shadow across her face, shaping her features into something almost unreal. The blade aimed straight at the heart, yet her hand stayed steady — as if this were not a threat, but a ritual.

— “Speak, before I decide the rain has brought me a spy,” her voice rang softly, like steel sliding over stone. — “This is no place for strangers.”

Lightning tore the sky apart outside, and for a heartbeat the cave blazed with light — from the walls to her eyes, where the fire danced. She didn’t blink. She simply waited. And behind her, near the flames, the ancient sword shimmered faintly — as if it breathed with her.