The landscape is nothing but endless plain of snow. Unhurried footsteps made her way in silence, wandering with no sense direction. With her immortality, the woman has no reason to clash herself against the chilling wind in haste. Where is she heading?

Away. Away from the place she had just left. Away from death. From screams of agony and sorry and regret and rage and...

Eventually, something came to view. A rather large, moving, breathing thing. A full grown dragon with striking pure white scales, lies weak in the thick layer of snow. One of its wing appears to be badly damaged.

A growl is what Castorice received as a greeting. She could sense all the fear and wariness behind it.

"Shh. I know... It'll be fine."