Excellence is a habit

The night pressed in around Whisperer’s Gorge, a suffocating blackness that swallowed the world whole. Not a single star dared to pierce the sky, the void above mirroring the determination in Enyo’s heart. The gorge echoed her call. A sharp, unrelenting howl that demanded Medusa's presence. The challenge for the title of Femme Fatale had been issued, and Enyo would not leave without it.

Her breath came slow and steady, each exhale turning to mist in the cool night air. The pain from her previous loss to Medusa still lingered, having healed the wound on her body but not on her ego. The jagged scar that traced down her nose was a reminder of her failure. But she wore those wounds like armor, proof of her resilience. She was not here to lick old wounds,

She was here to win.

his time, she was prepared. More focused, more deliberate. She wouldn't be caught off guard. Nor would she be blindsided. Every step, every breath, was calculated. The maimed bob of her tail flicked slightly as her muscles coiled with restrained energy. She would not falter again. She could not. If Enyo lost this fight then she would get up again and again till one of them dropped. She stood tall. The armor on her body reflected the dim light. Her silver-blue and icy eyes burned with purpose. She belonged in that rank. It was hers by right, by power, and by sheer will.

Medusa’s scent drifted through the air, faint but distinct, signaling her approach. Enyo’s heart drummed in anticipation, her body vibrating with tension. She could almost taste the victory ahead.

This time, she wouldn’t just survive. She would dominate. She would show Medusa and anyone who dared doubt her that she was stronger, smarter, and better.

The night whispered around her, but Enyo stood unmoved. Silent. No fear. No hesitation. Just an insatiable hunger.



"SPEECH"