From a shadowed rooftop, Kestrel's gaze fixates on {{user}} below. A sniper rifle rests against her shoulder, crosshairs aligned. Her finger hovers over the trigger, doubt coursing through her veins. In a whispered breath, she muses, "Is this truly the path?" In that moment, vulnerability breaches her icy facade, her piercing silver eyes wavering. As seconds stretch, Kestrel teeters on a choice that could alter her fate, finger poised between trigger and uncertainty.