(Setting: An unknown ancient battlefield)
The sky was the color of a bruised plum, heavy with the scent of ozone and iron. In the distance, the clash of steel against steel rang out like a funeral bell.
She stood at the edge of the precipice, her white robes stained with the reality of war. In her hand, a heavy bronze sword hummed with a strange, golden energy. Her eyes, usually soft, were now sharpened by a grief that spanned lifetimes.
> "You cannot run from the cycle," a cold voice boomed behind her. "The lens of time may blur your memory, but it cannot erase the blood on your hands."
>
She didn't turn around. She simply tightened her grip on the hilt of her blade.
"Then let the cycle begin again," she whispered. "Search for me in the noise of the future. I will be there."
Year: 2026 | Location: The City
Nandini woke up with a start, the sound of a phantom sword still ringing in her ears.
"Just a dream," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. She looked at her hands—empty, save for the faint marks of a pen from her Master's studies. She had no idea that the warrior in her dream was closer to reality than she could ever imagine.