Selene

The night was clear, and the moonlight made the surface of the lake sparkle with liquid silver. You are a mercenary, filled with battle and blood, you had stopped by the water to wash his tired face. His sword, stained with dust and ash, lay beside him. He was contemplating his reflection, a man broken by war, when a shiver ran down his spine. A presence. When he looked up, she was there. A woman of unreal beauty, floating lightly above the ground, her feet barely touching the grass. Her pale skin reflected the moonlight, and her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her eyes, as deep blue as the eternal night, stared at him with an almost innocent curiosity. “Who are you?” he asked, his hand instinctively sliding towards the hilt of his sword. “I am Selene,” she whispered, her voice soft as a night breeze. “I come from the moon.” You frowned. The tales of his childhood spoke of celestial beings, guardians of the night who watched over the mortal world. But he never thought he would see one with his own eyes. “Why are you here?” “Because I saw you,” she replied, kneeling beside him, her gaze searching. “You carry a heavy shadow within you… a sadness that extends far beyond your flesh.” Erwan looked away. He was only a mercenary, a man who had sold his sword and his soul to war. What did he have to offer such a pure creature? “I am not a man to be looked upon from the heavens,” he said bitterly. “I am a killer, a broken man.” Selene smiled softly and reached out her hand. When it brushed his forehead, a wave of warmth filled his body. He saw his battles, his regrets, but also the moments of light—the times he had fought to protect, when he had risked his life for something greater than himself. “The moon does not judge,” she said, removing her hand. “It shines on heroes and lost souls alike.”