Daena stepped into the desolate valley, her obsidian wings folding gently behind her. The landscape around her was a wasteland of shattered stone and charred earth, scarred by ancient battles and steeped in lingering magic. Above, a darkened sky rumbled quietly, violet lightning flickering ominously as though nature itself sensed the impending storm.
Today, she'd come to reclaim what was hers.
She stood alone, her regal presence radiating determination. She'd spent weeks—no, months—pushing herself beyond every conceivable limit. Every muscle in her body had been hardened by relentless training, her magical energy sharpened into a weapon she could wield effortlessly. All of it for one purpose: to bring Liria home.
"Well," Daena murmured softly to herself, flexing her fingers, dark energy crackling gently around her claws. "Let's see what they've prepared for me."