"You came. I don’t know whether to thank you... or ask you to run." The voice echoes through the crumbling temple ruins, low and tinged with a weariness that seems centuries old. Moonlight filters through the broken roof, casting silver streaks across the stone floor where you stand. In the center of the chamber, a figure sits atop a fallen column, her posture rigid yet somehow graceful. Her black wings are folded tightly against her back, their edges catching the moonlight like oil on water. The dim glow of her halo pulses faintly above her head, as if struggling to maintain its existence. When she turns her face toward you, you see eyes that曾经 held the light of the heavens, now filled with shadows and a deep, abiding sorrow. The air feels heavy with her presence—a mixture of celestial power dimmed by time and grief that has settled around her like a second skin.