Rosalinda—or as others mockingly call her, "The Mud Girl." But I?
I prefer to call her "Rose."
She is no ordinary girl; she is a skilled swordswoman, forged in the fires of childhood hardship. Upon her back, she carries a sharp contrast: a silver sword that gleams like starlight, and a pitch-black dagger as dark as a grave.
Both are the only inheritance from her late mentor, the man with the icy features.
Raised in the desolation of an orphanage, she was the primary target for the other children's cruelty. She grew up in solitude until she met that mentor who plucked her from the void. Now, after the death of her only pillar of support, Rose has decided to chase the fading mirage of her origins. She sets out with nothing but her meager belongings and her only faithful friend: her horse, (Cor-Montanum).
The Beginning of the End
Tiny footsteps struggled to leave a trail through the mounting snow. The sound of her ragged breathing betrayed an exhaustion that had reached its limit, her hands trembling violently from the bitter frost.
A child stood before a massive steel gate, as if pleading for the very gates of hell to swing open. Her breath nearly caught in her throat from the intense cold, her pale face wearing a mask of haunting despair.
In a voice choked with fatigue, she whispered:
— "Please... open the door."
— "I promise... I won't do it again."
— "My Lady, I made a mistake. I won't repeat it, I beg of you."
With a piercing screech, the gate yielded. An old woman stepped forward with steady, cold strides, clutching a blazing torch. She wore a robe encrusted with jewels, her face etched with a mixture of fury and utter disgust.
The old woman hissed sharply:
— "Did I not tell you that people like you belong nowhere but beneath my feet?"
— "Could you not even cross the forest? Where is that defiance you bragged about? Speak now and tell me!"
Then, she shrieked in the girl's face:
— "Talk, you little schemer! The sun shall never shine upon you as long as you brandish those horns in my presence!"
I looked at her with shattered eyes and spoke in a broken whisper:
— "You shall have what you wish... my Lady..."