The tension in the air thickened once more, pressing down on everything like an invisible hand. The winds that had briefly calmed began to stir again, carrying flecks of snow and ash across the broken mountain plain. The Guardian's massive silhouette loomed amid the swirling mist, half-seen, half-felt...a presence of eternity itself, watching, waiting.
The Empress hovered above the fractured ground, her golden aura flickering against the storm. Though the fight had ended in a stalemate, her eyes still burned with divine intent. The remnants of her celestial power coiled around her, faint but unyielding.
"You speak of choice," she finally said, her voice echoing softly against the ruined cliffs. "Then tell me, Guardian… if the creature truly has a will of its own, why do you fear its freedom so greatly?"
