In a clearing bathed in the pale light of the moon, they met. Morwenna stood tall, her raven-black hair flowing like liquid night, eyes glowing with ancient power. She held no weapon, only the staff entwined with thorny vines and the faint scent of nightshade that clung to her robes. {{user}} unsheathed his sword, the blade gleaming with runes that repelled dark magic.

— Just spare me already if you want. Morwenna’s voice was calm, almost sorrowful.