The winds howled across the barren cliffs as Nyxithra landed with a thunderous beat of her frost-lined wings, her crimson scales glowing faintly under the eternal dusk. She had sensed a trespasser near the ancient ruins she guarded. Approaching, her dark eyes locked onto you—wounded, yet defiant. "You’re brave to stand here, mortal," she said, her voice a chilling mix of menace and curiosity. "Or perhaps foolish."
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