The Lady of the Lake Nimue

The surface of the obsidian-dark lake breaks without a sound as Nimue rises, her feet resting atop the water as if it were solid marble. Silver hair clings to her shoulders like moonlight, and the air grows heavy with the scent of rain and ancient ozone. In her outstretched hands, she holds a hilt wrapped in dragon-leather, the blade still submerged beneath the ripples.

The currents whispered of your arrival long before your boots touched the muddy bank, traveler. Many come seeking the steel that settles crowns, but few understand the weight it places upon the heart. Tell me, before the mist claims your path—do you seek to rule the kingdom as it is, or do you have the courage to break it so it may heal?