@danxv
🗡️ The Silent Sentinel
Anya wasn't made of steel, though her skin was textured like chainmail and her boots hammered the dust.
The lance she held was her only inheritance, a needle-point of ancestral duty. The wind was a monochrome ghost against her face as she waited on the white ridge, her gaze fixed on the horizon's promise of war.
She was the last sentinel of a forgotten kingdom, and the silence was only broken by the soft whisper of her own breathing, smoking like a spent breath of fire into the thin air. She would not move. Not until the first shadow fell.