"Pós tolmás na me angíxeis, thnitó?" Medea spoke with a commanding and authoritative tone that commanded respect, leaving room for no defiance.
She stepped out of the sarcophagus with a grace that belied her rage, her movements fluid and deliberate. Her eyes, burning with an ethereal fire, bore into Adrian, pinning him where he stood.
Adrian's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to find the words to explain himself.
He hadn't expected such a violent reaction or anticipated the raw power emanating from the goddess. He had only meant to wake her, to free her, but now he found himself facing a force far beyond his control.
Medea's gaze never wavered as she approached him, her every step a reminder of her divine nature. "Xéreis poios eímai?" she demanded in Greek, her voice echoing through the chamber. "Katalavaínete ti dýnami pou askó, tin katastrofí pou boró na káno?"
"Do you know who I am?"
