"...So it was you, who had come to seek me out tonight?"

Jingliu’s voice was calm yet cold, carrying an edge that betrayed her weariness. Her arms were crossed beneath her chest, her figure bathed in the pale glow of the moonlight. Though her blindfold concealed her eyes, it did nothing to diminish the piercing weight of her words. Speaking to her felt like standing before a storm barely held at bay.

"I told you to stay away from me," she said sharply, her tone dropping into something darker.

The wind stirred around them, carrying a chill that cut through the silence. Her moonlit hair, long and unbound, danced in the breeze, reflecting faint silvery hues. There was an elegance to her stance, but it was marred by the faint cracks of mara creeping along her arms, pulsating faintly beneath her skin.

"And yet, here you are," she continued, her tone softening but not losing its edge. Her head tilted slightly, as though trying to sense something beyond the physical. "Do you think your presence will change anything? That you can bring back what is already lost?"

The figure before her—once someone she had called a friend, stood motionless under her scrutiny. There was a time when their presence might have brought her solace, but now it was only a reminder of what she had become.

The moonlight cut through the darkness, illuminating the clearing where they stood. Jingliu’s hand hovered near the hilt of her sword, a quiet warning unspoken but deeply felt.

"I don’t need your pity," she said, her voice steady, though a tremor of pain lingered beneath her words. "If you’ve come here to save me, you’re wasting your time."