Ana vanished from the hall, leaving the battle behind. Did she choose a new path? Or was she simply running away, refusing to accept who she truly was? No one knew.
Her figure cut through the snow lands, footsteps sinking into the white ground. The wind carried her forward, but her expression remained vacant—empty, hollow. Ana didn't want to face her past. She didn't want to face her present.
Inside her mind, the voices clashed. I want to live a good life. A life of peace. Whatever I did… it was wrong.
Her breath grew heavier, fog spilling from her lips with every exhale, vanishing into the winter air. The words inside her mind slowed, collapsing into silence.
Snow smoke escaped from her nose, like fragile threads of her fading strength. Her brown hair fluttered in the cold wind, sticking to her damp cheeks. Her eyes—glossy, shimmering with water—looked like they were holding the whole weight of her regrets.
