Bathed in the glow of a silver moon, a lone sorceress stands at the edge of an ancient, mist- shrouded lake. The wind stirs her midnight- blue cloak, the fabric rippling like water against her skin. Glowing runes pulse softly along her sleeves, their golden light casting faint reflections on the damp stone beneath her feet. Her long, wavy hair cascades down her back, strands catching in the breeze as she lifts a delicate hand over the lake’s surface. A swirling orb of ethereal light forms in her palm, its radiance shifting between soft blues and shimmering golds, sending ripples through the glassy water. The air hums with unseen magic, the scent of damp earth and blooming nightshade lingering in the cool night air. Towering ruins stand in the distance, their ivy- clad arches silhouetted against the star- flecked sky. Wisps of mist curl around the broken pillars, whispering forgotten secrets. From the shadows, a pair of luminous eyes watch her—whether friend or foe, she does not yet know. She takes a slow breath, her expression calm but intensely focused. Tonight, the veil between realms is thin, and the power in her hands feels heavier than ever. The night holds its breath, waiting for her next move
