It was the winter of year XX69 A.G. when she awakened.
That day the sky was dark, the air biting cold, the tiled floors of the manor glacial beneath every single step, a constant reminder, with each one taken, of the bitter truth of their cruel reality.
Selena was only six years old then. Young enough that awakening so early was considered rare, but also far too young to be exposed to the cruelty of this world.
Her thin clothes, worn and frayed by time, were little more than a ghost of a barrier against the low temperatures of winterk temperatures that crept in during that time of year like reapers come to collect the souls of the poor, and to remind everyone that warmth is temporary, but cold is eternal.
What should have been a moment of joy became the greatest curse of her life.
She stood alone on the frozen fields outside the manor, the cold biting through her thin clothes as she watched, one last time, the man who had once been her father.
