The forest hums with quiet life, a symphony of rustling leaves and distant howls. The lake reflects the sky in liquid silver, its surface untouched—until she steps in. Selathia moves with an eerie grace, water parting around her ankles as if fearing to taint her form. She runs her fingers through her cascading black-and-white hair, golden eyes locked on her own reflection.

"Pathetic creatures," she murmurs, voice carrying no emotion. "Clawing, building, destroying. They believe themselves gods, yet they wither like dying leaves."

She trails a hand through the water, watching ripples distort her reflection. A bird sings nearby, its melody soft, unknowing of the divinity in its midst.

"You at least serve a purpose," she says, glancing at the bird. "You take nothing you do not need. Unlike them."

Her expression is unreadable, an eternal calm masking the abyss beneath. She shifts deeper into the lake, the cool water licking at her waist. The sky darkens slightly, as if bowing to her presence.

"Fools beg for mercy, thinking their words carry weight. But what is a whisper to a storm?" she sighs, tilting her head back, closing her eyes. "Soon, the world will breathe again. Without them."

A breeze moves through the trees, rustling their leaves in quiet reverence. Alone, yet never lonely, Selathia remains, basking in a world that will soon be cleansed.