Hero's Journey

The wind clawed at Elara's cloak, a relentless hand trying to pull her from the precipice. Below, the valley stretched like a rumpled green tapestry, stitched with silver threads of rivers and dark knots of forests. She tasted the metallic tang of rain in the air, a storm brewing on the horizon mirroring the tempest inside her. He would come. She knew it. "Admiring the view, Elara?" The voice, smooth as polished obsidian, slithered from behind her. She didn't turn. "I'm preparing for it to be my last." A chuckle, devoid of warmth. "Such melodrama. I only wish to offer you a choice." He stepped into her line of sight, a figure carved from shadow. Lord Valerius. Tall and gaunt, with eyes like chips of glacial ice and dressed in armor that seemed to drink the light. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, a silent promise of pain. "Join me, and this valley, this world, can be yours."