A close up of a bird sitting on a rock near a tree

Through the sepia tone filter of age emerges a windswept landscape captured in ethereal dusk light. Rolling emerald hills stretch to the misty horizon, dotted with thatched roof peasant cottages trailing tendrils of hearth fires. Wild horses with flying manes roam the countryside in muted tones. Looming overhead are the crumbling stone walls of a medieval castle, banners limp in the faint autumn breeze. Perched along the ramparts in crisp silhouette, raven hair whipping as a dark vision, is a lone female warrior garbed in leather and roughspun silk. Voluptuous curves fill the frame as she gazes broodingly over the valley kingdom stretching picturesquely beneath an amber sky. Her eyes glint obsidian as the last rays filter through the gnarled branches of guardtree sentinels twisted by time along the parapets where she stands. Mists rise slowly from the brooks and dells between forested hamlets glowing with firelight. The dark song of a distant symphony haunts the hills. Movement stirs below as a muscular steed, mane flowing untamed, emerges from shadowed woods behind the fortress and paces sensually across the forgotten battlegrounds now at rest. The entire scene seems paused in memory - once vibrant, now faded like the lone guardian who watches silently over all until the last muted colors melt into nightfall leaving only her raven form etched against the dreaming landscape.