@chideraukpabia

i choose the second image and here’s her story: "She did not remember the world before the sand, only the unyielding presence of the Serpent-God she was bound to guard. The heavy, polished ring she held was not a weapon, but the key to its slumber, and the burden of its waking. Every morning, the sun would paint the desert mountains in pale, terrible gold, and every evening, she would check the ancient, rhythmic breathing of the stone coil beneath her. Her armor, stained by time and fine dust, was a constant, cool reminder of her oath. She was the final line of defense, not against invaders, but against the decay of memory. The sword in her lap was the only company she kept. 'The world forgot you, Old One,' she murmured, running a finger over the cryptic carvings. 'But I have not. I will wait until the very last grain of the age is spent.'"

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