Hero's Journey

The wind clawed at Elara's cloak, trying to rip her from the precipice. Below, the valley stretched, an endless tapestry of green and gold stitched together by the silver thread of the River Serinor. It was beautiful, yes, but a beauty stained by the shadow that now clung to its edges, a darkness she knew all too well. He would be here soon. A voice, smooth as polished obsidian, echoed behind her. "Admiring your kingdom, Elara? Pity you won't be ruling it for much longer." She didn't turn. "This isn't a game, Kael. Too much is at stake." "Everything is a game, little queen," he chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. "It's just a matter of who's playing, and who's being played." The air grew colder, a tangible manifestation of his power. She gripped the hilt of her sword, the familiar weight a small comfort against the dread that threatened to consume her.