I donned my armor, feeling the familiar weight settle around my shoulders as I left the cave.
The moment I emerged, Medea's voice sliced through the silence, sharp and questioning. "Who are you?" Her eyes, usually so composed, were now focused intently on a figure hovering above us, her gaze filled with hostility.
I followed Medea's line of sight. The figure before us was no ordinary being. She was something otherworldly, an ethereal presence that radiated power and beauty beyond the realm of mortals. Her long, jet-black hair cascaded down her back, reaching her waist like a dark waterfall. Her eyes, a striking shade of white, held an ancient wisdom, as if she had seen the rise and fall of countless civilizations.
"The Hero of Darkness," she whispered, her voice carrying a weight of recognition.
Medea's eyes narrowed, her tone growing more demanding, "Who are you?"
