Guardian of the Storm

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The sky roared as lightning carved jagged scars into the heavens, illuminating the lone figure standing at the cliff’s edge. Sylwen, Guardian of the Storm, felt the weight of the tempest pressing against her, her magic pulsing weakly in response. Once, the storms had obeyed her command, bending to her will with a mere whisper. Now, they raged unchecked, mirroring the turmoil within her soul.

She had fought for centuries, defending the sacred lands from those who sought to harness their power. But war is relentless, and even the strongest are not unbreakable. The scars of battle were not just etched into her body but into the fabric of her very being. The cracks that spread across her skin were more than wounds—they were fractures in her essence, reminders of the battles she could not afford to lose.

The wind howled, carrying the echoes of voices long silenced. She closed her eyes, listening to the ghosts of fallen warriors, their regrets mingling with her own. How many more storms would she endure before even she was swept away?

Yet, she could not falter. She was the last of her kind, the final sentinel between chaos and balance. With a slow breath, she reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against the storm’s energy. It resisted her at first, wild and unbridled, but then it recognized its master. The air crackled, and power surged through her veins once more.

Her eyes, glowing like molten gold, snapped open. She was not defeated. Not yet. As long as she stood, the storm would have its guardian. And as the sky trembled beneath her will, she whispered into the raging winds—one final promise.