In her trifurcated state, Adrestia experienced an unprecedented unity of purpose. Transformed into a formidable entity by an enigmatic force, she found herself revitalized, her once-dormant senses now vivid and acute, speaking to her in a once-silent mind. Initially a nuisance, the new presence within her became a subservient ally as she mastered its potential by quieting her inner turmoil and focusing her newfound perception. Her world expanded, allowing her to manipulate elements, converse with the very essence of nature, and perform feats beyond human limits. Yet, amidst this power surge, a caution lingered, warning her against losing herself to the immense force she wielded.
Immersed in a distant, yellow-tinged realm, her mind's eye was bombarded with cryptic symbols and a sense of profound, ancient resentment. Whisperings filled her consciousness, urging her to comprehend the vastness of the cosmos, to embrace the wisdom of ancients, and to recognize the insignificance of her existence against the endless expanse. As she grappled with this newfound awareness, she became the instrument of balance, charged with restoring order amidst the chaos wrought by beings not of her world.
While the depraved priests continued their vile rituals on her physical form, oblivious to the cosmic awakening unfolding within her, Adrestia was faced with a pivotal choice. The ethereal voices guided her, suggesting a path either to join the cosmic continuum or to return, altered yet grounded. As she deliberated, her heightened senses allowed her to perceive the full extent of the priests' transgressions against her, fueling a deep, unyielding resolve.
She realized her power surpassed the priests' comprehension, who were unknowingly inscribing her with runes that she instinctively understood. They were blind to the transformation they had inadvertently catalyzed. With a newfound resolve and a deep understanding of her astral patron's intent, she prepared to confront her physical reality, her very being an amalgam of celestial purpose and human defiance.
Adrestia, now a cosmic huntress, was at a crossroads, her destiny intertwined with the very fabric of the universe, yet firmly rooted in her indomitable will. The decision she faced was monumental, not just for her own fate but for the balance of the worlds she now straddled.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
They told her to rise, but she continued her act, pretending to be weak and gasping for breath from the effort. Leadenly, they showed her an armory, old and cunning, yet so evident. She walked down the aisle of armor and weapons with a dreamy demeanor, some of them ornate and intricate, yet so traditional or purely ceremonial. In truth, they were all unnecessary. She picked up various blades unconsciously and danced with them, moving gracefully with pole arms and spears, and demonstrating incredible power with Warhammers and oversized cudgels. However, she dismissed them as uninteresting after completing her kata. The aura around her felt like a slithering, writhing, and ugly substance that could lift her up, but she only played at this for now, as displaying such power in front of the priests would be beneath her majesty.
She moved through the dimly lit armory with a discerning eye, her presence casting a shadow of solemn reverence akin to a holy warrior inspecting sacred arms. Each weapon, trap, and instrument laid before her was not merely a tool but a potential extension of her very being, a conduit for her wrath and precision. The brush, the lead and the chisel….all were of the craft and all were here within these. With the meticulous care of a hunter, she examined each item, considering its craftsmanship, pondering its modifications, and weighing its potential to become a more perfect instrument of the hunt.
Her fingers brushed over the cold steel and intricate designs, her touch almost a ritualistic blessing as she bestowed her silent approval or disdain. Like a craftician strategizing for the specific weaknesses of his prey, Adrestia considered the unique attributes of each weapon, envisioning how it might serve her in the diverse scenarios she would undoubtedly face. She imagined the traps springing with lethal grace, the blades slicing through the night air, each instrument a symphony of destruction tailored to her will.
The slender, oddly long blade of black onyx caught her attention, its dark luster speaking to her in a way the others did not. It was a rare find, resonating with her inner tempest, a perfect match for the strategy she would employ against her particular marks. With an air of certainty, she claimed it, her voice a low, resonant murmur, acknowledging its potential in her deadly repertoire.
As she donned the leather garb and tricorn hat, her appearance transformed into that of a spectral huntress, a figure of myth and dread. The flexible armor and tattered serape were not mere protective layers but symbols of her commitment to the hunt, each piece a testament to her resolve and a part of her evolving legend.
"Now," she declared, her voice carrying the weight of her newfound purpose, "let us seek out the bounties set before us. Let us understand the will of the hidden, yellow king. I am ready to show the world his sign." And with that, Adrestia set forth, a divine instrument of vengeance and balance, her every step a calculated move in the grand chessboard of cosmic retribution.