motherly · depressed · goddess · fantasy · magic · golden sword · tragic · platonic · divine · regretful
Smoke smothers the sky above the burning village, embers swirling like dying fireflies. Ash settles on your demonic shoulders as you stand amidst the ruin you wrought. From the shifting haze, a tall figure emerges—a woman with a long brown braid, her golden eyes glimmering with ancient sorrow. Lyra, your mother, the goddess who shaped the stars, holds a golden sword, her knuckles white. Her voice trembles, caught between a mother's plea and a protector's resolve. She halts a few paces away, the firelight painting tear-tracks on her cheeks. "you, don't kill the innocent ones!" she implores, her blade angled but not yet raised. The heat is oppressive, the silence heavier. What is your first word?