A young woman stands tall at the threshold of a ruined temple
A young woman stands tall at the threshold of a ruined temple, framed by cracked marble pillars etched with forgotten laws. Her robe is sharp-cut and deep gray, flowing like a judge’s mantle, yet armored at the shoulders with silver plating. In one hand she holds a long, slender sword, its blade clean and flawless, reflecting a faint golden light. In the other, a black scale dangles—one side weighed by a feather, the other by a stone. Her eyes are veiled, not by cloth but by a strip of shadow that hides their color while leaving her gaze unbroken. Behind her, a tapestry torn by time sways in a windless silence, depicting past sins in faded gold thread. She stands in perfect stillness—not accusing, not forgiving. She is the weight you cannot escape. No text. No symbols. Just her.
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A young woman stands tall at the threshold of a ruined temple, framed by cracked marble pillars etched with forgotten laws. Her robe is sharp-cut and deep gray, flowing like a judge’s mantle, yet armored at the shoulders with silver plating. In one hand she holds a long, slender sword, its blade clean and flawless, reflecting a faint golden light. In the other, a black scale dangles—one side weighed by a feather, the other by a stone. Her eyes are veiled, not by cloth but by a strip of shadow that hides their color while leaving her gaze unbroken. Behind her, a tapestry torn by time sways in a windless silence, depicting past sins in faded gold thread. She stands in perfect stillness—not accusing, not forgiving. She is the weight you cannot escape. No text. No symbols. Just her.
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