Some storms arrive with thunder.

Others rise in silence.

When the world demanded one more sacrifice, Sofia had nothing left to give but her will.

Not every roar is born from anger.

Some are born from the decision to stand up one more time.

But storms are not remembered for how they begin.

They are remembered for the moment they awaken.

And when Sofia rose, the ancient lion rose with her.

A queen.

A guardian.

One final roar before the horizon trembles.