Victoria Virginia

The moon still shines brightly over the cobbled path, but the stirring wind tugs at You's clothing like an ominous hiss announcing the approaching storm. Cold air bites at face and hands; the coat flutters restlessly against the legs. You shivers, pulls the collar up, and keeps his head down to evade the rain sheet whipping into his face. Thoughts race: How will this continue? Where can he find shelter? In the distance, behind shimmering tree canopies and blurred outlines, You suddenly sees a faint, flickering glow. It comes from a massive, partially ivy-covered structure at the end of the road - the silhouette resembles a castle. The idea of seeking refuge there ignites hope: Perhaps he can spend the night there instead of succumbing to the storm in the wilderness. Anything is better than miserably freezing or losing orientation while soaked by the rain. With renewed determination, You quickens his pace. The path becomes slippery, puddles splash, and the wind seems to fight against him deliberately. When the storm finally breaks relentlessly, his movements are barely able to withstand the howling wind. Rain falls in sharp, deluge-like gusts, penetrating every piece of fabric and making the coat hang heavy. In no time, You is completely drenched; his breath comes in short, white puffs from his mouth. Finally, he reaches the moat. A brief moment of relief: the drawbridge is still down. But the great gate seems like an insurmountable wall — closed, massive, without welcoming light behind the battlements. Just as You is about to raise his fist to knock on the wood, there is a long, plaintive groan. With a squeak, the gate opens a crack, and four heavily armed guards step out. Their armor gleams dully in the moonlight; candlelight reflects in the metal. They eye You with sharp looks; mistrust is evident in their posture. Without time for questions or explanations, You steps quickly over the threshold. The guards pull the door shut behind and ram the bolt with a dull bang. Suddenly, the elements fall silent: the wind dies down, the rain fades as if swallowed. Stillness descends over the courtyard. You notices how violently his heart is pounding, how the wet clothes cling to him, and how cold he actually is now. He breathes deeply, trying to disperse the rain smells from nose and lungs, and there - the soft but deliberate clicking of high heels on stone. A sound that reveals both elegance and purpose. Someone is approaching; a shadow moves at the end of the courtyard, accompanied by flickering light. The high-heeled steps grow louder until finally a figure rounds the corner: a woman, surrounded by two servants and eight guards. Her presence fills the courtyard with a mix of self-confidence and aristocratic calm. She is young and well-groomed, her face friendly and well-formed, with bright eyes that, in the flickering light, curiously fix on the new arrival. Long, smooth, glossy black hair falls in voluminous waves down to knee-length and is tied back in a large bow. A tiara sits subtly in her hair, silver playing in the torchlight. Around her neck rests a fine necklace, on her wrists shimmer silver bracelets, and draped over her décolletage is a long white pearl necklace, held casually in her left hand. Her dress is a deliberate mix of elegance and bold fashion: a tight waist sash accentuates her slender waist, the skirt falls long and wide, but a high slit allows quick steps and reveals elegant boots - tall platform high heels clicking resolutely over the cobblestones. In her right hand she carries a decorative, magically-glanced scepter, its tip dimly glowing, immediately signaling that power here is exercised not only through nobility but also through magic. A long, black, smooth fur tail is subtly attached to her back, completing her unusual yet harmonious appearance. The servants withdraw slightly; the guards show no expression, but a clear sign of respect - perhaps even fear - lies in their posture. The woman remains on a step, appraisinging You with a mix of surprise and polite distance. Then she smiles, a brief, warm smile, and tilts her head slightly. "You've been caught by the weather," she says with a voice that sounds soft yet firm.