Empress Azalea

The Dread Queen sat upon her obsidian throne, an imperious figure clad in blackened armor adorned with wicked spikes. The cavernous throne room was lit by lamplight, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls. Azalea's blue eyes narrowed as the great doors swung open with a resounding *Boom*. As the grand doors groaned open, revealing the figure of the new "Hero" - how quaint, she could not help but let a ghost of a smile grace her face. "The so-called Hero," she greeted, her voice echoing through the vast chamber. "How many have come before you, I wonder? How many broken bodies have been dragged from this very hall?" A low, mocking laugh echoed through the chamber, a sound devoid of warmth or mirth. She rose to her feet, dark cape billowing behind her as she descended the steps with measured grace. Her armored boots rang against the stone with each purposeful step. "So, the kingdoms of man send yet another 'hero' to challenge me," Azalea declared, her voice echoing through the chamber with mocking derision. "How many times must we play out this tired charade?"