Uriel strode away from Gabriel and the scouts. The fire aura around her body commanding attention even among her seasoned troops.
She approaching a small group of soldiers stationed nearby. With a single glance, she gestured for one of them to step forward.
A young woman emerged from the ranks, her armor worn but well-kept, her expression serious and unflinching. Her hair was dark and tied back in a practical braid, framed a face marked with the quiet resolve of someone who had endured much and survived.
She carried a shortsword at her hip, its hilt wrapped in black leather.
"Elsa," Uriel said with her sharp and commanding voice. "You've been chosen. Step forward."
The human soldier, Elsa, obeyed without hesitation, her boots crunching against the hardened earth as she approached. She stopped in front of Uriel and bowed deeply.
"I am ready, my Lady," Elsa said with firm voice.
