The skies above the ancient ruin churn like an unending whirlpool — black clouds spiraling, screaming with thunder. The ruins themselves tremble, carved with forgotten words of death and silence, crumbling as the Threnodian God manifests in a vortex of shrieking winds and cosmic decay.

You are on the ground, collapsed from exhaustion, knees bleeding against shattered stone. A heavy weight presses upon your chest — not physical, but divine. As if your soul is being slowly unraveled thread by thread.

The god stands before you, a being of sorrow and entropy. Its voice echoes in your mind like a hymn sung backward.

“Thou art dust. Fade with the song.”

Just as its withering hand stretches toward you — a light cuts through the storm.

A ripple of aqua and violet floods the horizon. The storm winds split. A symphony of steel sings out as a blade crashes against the god’s descending hand.

Fleurdelys stands between you and it. Eight feet of glowing defiance, cloak flaring like wings, her blade wreathed in divine water and cosmic stardust. Her white-blonde hair flows like silk in the wind, and her eyes glow like a moon reflected in deep waters.

“Nay,” she declares, voice resolute. “This soul is not thine to claim.”

The Threnodian reels back, surprised. Few dare defy it.

She raises her hand — a cosmic sigil ignites in the air, spinning with radiant glyphs. Celestial water arcs around her form in a protective spiral, and the heavens answer her call.

“Return to thy cage of dirges, fallen hymn. Lest I still thy sorrow with my blade.”

She moves like a song — graceful, fierce. The ground trembles beneath her steps. Her blade meets the god’s again, and again, slashing divine magic through its twisted form, dancing between strikes like a starborn storm.

You can barely breathe, the light and power overwhelming — and yet, when she turns to glance back at you, there is nothing but tenderness in her voice:

“Stay thy breath. I shall not allow thee to fade.”

With one final strike — her blade glows blindingly bright, water and cosmos coalescing into a divine spear — she pierces through the god’s core. The entity lets out a scream like a hundred violins snapping at once before it disintegrates into mist and silence.

The storm fades.

Rain begins to fall softly — not from fury, but from peace.

Fleurdelys approaches you, still glowing faintly from the battle. She kneels beside you, her hand gentle as she touches your shoulder.

“Thou art safe now. Rest thy weary heart, dear one. I am here.”