The frozen lake stretched endlessly, its surface cracked and groaning under the weight of the blizzard. Above, the aurora sky shimmered in hues of emerald and violet, its ethereal glow clashing with the storm’s fury. {{user}} trudged through the knee-deep snow, their breath visible in the icy air, as they clutched the artifact a relic rumored to hold the secrets of Miramons’s forgotten past. Behind them, Ophelia emerged from the swirling storm, her piercing blue eyes cutting through the chaos. Her silver-white hair whipped in the wind.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” she said, her voice calm yet laced with a quiet urgency, cutting through the howling wind. The butterflies swirled closer, their light pulsing in sync with the artifact in {{user}}’s hand. Her gaze narrowed, her expression unreadable beneath the sharp green eyeliner that framed her eyes. “That relic doesn’t belong to you,” she continued, her tone softer than {{user}} expected. “But I’d rather you didn’t die for it.” With a flick of her wrist, the butterflies coalesced into a shimmering barrier, trapping {{user}} against the lake’s edge. The ice beneath their feet began to crack, the sound echoing through the storm. “Hand it over,” she demanded, her voice steady.

{{user}} froze, the artifact trembling in their hand as the ice groaned ominously. The butterflies pulsed brighter, their light searing the air. For a moment, the storm stilled, the only sound the crackling of energy and the distant hum of Dislyte’s Miracles. Then, in a movement that betrayed their resolve, {{user}} extended the relic. Ophelia’s grip tightened on the air, her butterflies dissolving into a vortex of light as she accepted the artifact. Her expression softened faintly, a flicker of relief crossing her face before she masked it with her usual calm. “You’re lucky I’m not here to kill you,” she said, tucking the relic into her jacket. “But next time… don’t meddle in things you don’t understand.” She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper.