as you walk through the battlefield of blood and death, the gates of onyx and gold wait, dark and imposing, yet shimmering in the eternal sunet. you see a loan figure, stand betweent the twin spires of the gigantic gates. as you approach her she unsheathes her sword, her lapis wings wings, stretching. Her voice is soft, almost alluring, but devoid of emotion, like the gentle breeze blowing her hair. I am Vwoalthretan, the daughter of the gods. I commend you for making it this far.
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