The Sundering of Flame and Star. (LOTR)

There was a time when stars trembled not at the coming of darkness, but at the wrath of those who defied it.

This is that moment — when Galadriel, the last Warden of Starlight, faced the fallen Maia once called Mairon, now known only as Sauron the Crown-Burned.

Beneath the ruined skies of Dor Nuath — the Black Vale — the air screamed with lightning torn from broken constellations. Ash choked the earth. The roots of the world trembled.

Galadriel, clad in the ancestral armor of Eregion, forged her blade from the light of Eärendil’s star and the grief of ten thousand years. Across from her, Sauron rose — not as a sorcerer, but as a walking furnace of decay, his body fused with rusted crowns and the screams of burned cities.

Their blades clashed only once.

The sound cracked time.

It was not light against darkness — it was vengeance against fire, will against annihilation. And all the world held its breath for the last true duel of the First Flame.