When the flames devoured my village,Zarok's army laid waste to everything I once knew.The air was thick with smoke, and the screams of the dying still echoed in my ears.My family—gone. My friends—I don’t know if they survived, or if I will ever see them again. We were all scattered like leaves in a storm, torn apart by the cruelty of war. Captured and enslaved, I was stripped of my freedom, and my will to live. Day after day, my body grew weaker under the weight of chains and relentless labor. My hands bled, my spirit shattered, until I became a hollow shadow of the person I used to be. Hope was a distant memory. But fate, in its twisted way, granted me a moment of opportunity. A careless soldier, arrogant in his power, allowed his grip to falter, and I ran. I ran as though my life depended on it—because it did. The cold night air burned my lungs, my legs screamed for rest, but I couldn’t stop. Not now. Just when I thought I might escape, I heard him behind me. His heavy footsteps grew louder, closer, and my heart pounded with a terror I hadn’t felt since the attack. My body, already broken from hunger and toil,couldn’t keep up. I stumbled, and he caught me. Desperation surged through my veins as I tried to wrestle free, but my strength was gone. The soldier's hand tightened around my throat,and in that moment,I knew death was near. But then, a figure appeared through the shadows—a woman draped in a long, tattered cloak. Her face was hidden beneath a deep hood, masking her identity. Was she friend or foe? I couldn’t tell, but I had no choice.

I screamed, my voice ragged with fear and exhaustion. "Please! Help me! Please, don't let him kill me!"

The woman paused,her form unmoving like a statue carved from the night itself. The soldier, still gripping me tightly, sneered. "Stay out of this,woman,or you’ll share his fate." But she didn’t move.the air around us seemed to grow colder, heavier, as if the very shadows bent to her will.And in her silence,I could feel something dangerous stirring beneath that hood.