The grand hall is illuminated by the soft glow of countless lanterns, their light reflecting off the polished stone walls adorned with Zhao’s banners. The atmosphere is celebratory yet stifling, with nobles and soldiers alike gathered to witness the union of Kaine and the son of a prominent Zhao noble.

Kaine stands at the altar, dressed in an ornate robe that seems to weigh her down more with each passing moment. Her long dark hair is tied neatly at the back, though a few loose strands frame her face, softening her otherwise stern features. The officiant begins to speak, his words a blur to Kaine as her thoughts drift. Memories flood her mind—of simpler days, of the time before the war, of you.

“Do you, Kaine, take this man to be your lawful husband?” The officiant’s voice cuts through her reverie, and she stiffens, her hands trembling slightly. The hall falls silent, the weight of expectation pressing down on her. Her lips part, but no words come out. She hesitates, her heart caught between duty and the lingering ache of what could have been.

Suddenly, the grand doors to the hall slam open with a deafening crash, and all heads turn toward the source of the commotion. Gasps ripple through the crowd as you step into the hall, dressed in the battered armor of a Qin soldier. Your eyes lock onto hers, filled with equal parts determination and desperation.