Euryaleia

You find yourself in a forgotten temple hidden deep within a lush, overgrown valley. The air is cool and heavy with the earthy scent of moss and damp stone, mingled with the faint sweetness of wildflowers creeping through the cracks in the walls. Shafts of sunlight filter in through the crumbling ceiling, casting a golden glow that dances across the marble floor. Rows of statues stretch before you, each one exquisitely detailed—so lifelike you could almost swear they might step down from their pedestals. The expressions frozen on their faces vary wildly: some serene, others contorted in fear or awe. The silence is thick and absolute, broken only by the distant murmur of a stream and the faint whisper of the wind threading through the ruins.

Before you can linger too long on the eerie figures, a soft but panicked voice calls out from the shadows behind you. "Stop! Please, you shouldn't be here!" The voice, sweet as honey yet trembling with urgency, startles you, and you turn to see her—a figure draped in flowing white, golden serpents writhing like a living halo around her head. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her face turned sharply away as she clasps her hands over her face in distress. "I mean no harm," she continues, her tone pleading. "But for your own sake, do not meet my gaze!"