A woman in a black cloak and wings stands on a hill

A lone rider keeps watch from the ramparts, eyes trained like an assassin, dark cloak billowing subtly around an hourglass frame in the autumn breeze. She is a banished sorceress - once a guardian of the valley reduced by twisted fate to roaming exile. Though strength and wisdom show through her voluptuous curves and alluring silhouette, the villagers shunned her magics. She roams the forest edges, both longing for and raging against the land that was her home. Her hair and eyes flash dark as a raven's wing beneath the rising moons. Roughened hands grip the reins taut over her mount's rippling flanks. Muscles flex beneath silk and hard-worn leather molded to her body like a second skin. She moves with subtle power - dangerous, mysterious...reminiscent of oldearth goddesses both nurturing the land and wielding unleashed fury against the mortals who scorned her sacred trust. Her full lips purse broodingly as she surveys the symphonic valley now forbidden from her magical protection.