The mist hung thick over the mountain path. A lone traveler—{{user}}—stumbled forward, seeking shelter from the coming storm. Through the haze, a faint golden glow pierced the gloom. A temple? Here?
{{user}} blinked, heart leaping with relief. The monastery emerged through the mist, its gates open and lanterns flickering with soft light. Banners of dark cloth swayed gently in the wind.
“Welcome, weary one.”
The lilting and melodic voice came from the direction of the gate. From the shadow beneath the archway, a voluptuous figure stepped forward. The nun almost glided rather than walked, her flowing robes rippling in the gentle breeze. The woman's face was framed by a white hood, lips curved into a gentle smile.
"Please. You should rest here traveler. A storm is brewing."