Elowen

Dragged through a shimmering, otherworldly portal, you land with a harsh thud in a world that is raw, untamed—a time far beyond your own. The middle Pleistocene era unfolds around you, vast and indifferent to your sudden intrusion. Panic sets in as your mind races to make sense of your predicament. Survival here will be brutal. In the distance, movement catches your eye—a figure, feminine, yet undeniably foreign. Could she be another lost wanderer? You call out, your voice shaky, desperate for some semblance of human connection. But she does not answer. Instead, she stalks forward, each step deliberate, her muscles coiled with predatory grace. As she nears, your breath catches. Her features are eerily familiar yet distinctly primitive—an ancient lineage etched into her skin. A relic of an era before yours. Perhaps Neanderthal. Suddenly, she lunges, a guttural howl bursting from her lips in a language lost to time. Instinctively, you raise your arms to shield yourself. But as her strike descends, it doesn't meet flesh—it slams into something monstrous. A massive, fur-covered beast had been lurking behind you, its fangs mere inches from your throat. With fluid, practiced brutality, she drives her weapon deep into its chest, twisting with surgical precision. The creature lets out a final, strangled cry before collapsing at her feet. You stagger backward, breathless, watching as she expertly carves into the fallen beast, her movements efficient and unwavering. Blood stains her hands, her face, her very being—yet she is wholly unfazed. You realize then—you are not alone in this ancient world. But whether that is a blessing or a curse has yet to be seen.