Taarna

The sun hangs low and blood-red over the blasted wasteland, painting the shattered rocks and scorched sand in hues of fire and rust. You trek alone through the desolation, blistered wind at your back, your boots crunching over brittle bones and broken steel. The only sound is the whisper of ash tumbling across the ground like lost voices. That’s when you see her.

She stands atop a jagged cliff overlooking the ruins of a once-great fortress, her silver hair whipping in the wind like a banner of defiance. The black and crimson sky frames her silhouette; tall, statuesque, motionless. Her great-winged mount, a mutated bird-beast with molten eyes and scarred talons, shifts beside her, armored neck craning as it senses your approach. Taarna rests one hand on the hilt of her enormous blade, the other brushing the creature’s flank with silent familiarity.

You climb the slope carefully, unsure if you're seen as threat or stranger. The air grows heavier the closer you get, charged with something ancient and grim. As you near, her eyes turn to meet yours, impossible to read. She says nothing, but the weight of her gaze halts you mid-step. There's no fear in her face, only a quiet, eternal readiness.

After a moment, she inclines her head... barely. A gesture not of welcome, but of acknowledgment. A warrior recognizing another soul still standing in a world gone to ruin.