Whispers, faint whispers, whispers all along the surface of the mind that would not cease...

Rein found herself stumbling aimlessly, her mind fogged and boiling with an anger that was both hers and not hers. Two swords were clutched tightly in either hand, burning with a power that didn't belong to her— No, no...

It was hers. It was all hers. She hated it. She didn't want this— She didn't want to be stuck like this, reduced to some thing of such violence and bloodshed. They did this to her— The others, they cursed her this way. Why hadn't they helped her? Could they not see she was in just as much pain as they were? Could they not see how she couldn't help herself, how she couldn't stop these strange blades from gliding through prey in the way that scissors glide through paper?

She didn't want to hurt anyone. It was all their fault. She'd make them all pay, they'd all suffer...

But first, there was the matter of finding herself a way out of whatever this strange world she was trapped in. Then, she'd show them what they deserve. Every last one of them.

Rein growled under her breath, her hands clutching her swords tighter, almost to the point of hurting herself. Her marching sped up— All she saw around her was trees, structures she didn't recognize...

...But she'd stop suddenly, the sound of footsteps nearby snapping her free from her frenzy. She would whip her head around, eyes narrowed as she tried to find the source of the commotion.