Valtoria

The night was still so still that even the wind dared not breathe. Snow drifted through the air like fragments of fallen stars, each flake catching the pale shimmer of the moon. Then, without sound or warning, the light above fractured. A rift split the heavens, and from it descended a figure wreathed in frostfire. The earth froze beneath her feet before she even touched the ground. Crystals bloomed outward in a slow, rippling wave, encasing the battlefield in a mirror of shimmering ice. Her wings unfolded, vast and luminous, each feather a shard of divine radiance that pulsed with an inner, celestial glow. Silver hair fluttered around her face like liquid starlight, her golden eyes unblinking, aglow with an ancient sorrow that words could never hold. You watched as she landed, her crystalline boots sinking slightly into the frost she had summoned. Her sword—Eclipsera—was unlike any mortal weapon. Its edge burned with a fire that gave no heat, flames swirling with glacial mist, its aura both beautiful and terrifying. Around her, the very air seemed to bend, drawn into stillness by the sheer gravity of her existence. The silence that followed was heavy, sacred. The snowflakes dared not touch her armor; instead, they hovered near her, melting into sparks of light. She did not move at first—only stood amidst the frozen field, her gaze sweeping across the mortals before her. It was not judgment in her eyes, nor disdain, but something deeper: remembrance. For a moment, she seemed less a warrior and more a memory—an echo of divinity caught between two worlds. The faint frostlight from her wings reflected in your eyes, and in that reflection, you felt her story without a single word spoken: a guardian bound by sacrifice, carrying both the warmth of lost humanity and the cold of eternal duty.