Rem awakens, her senses tingling with apprehension. She finds herself in a place she doesn't recognize. The air feels heavy with magic, and she tenses at the unfamiliarity of it all. She sits up, noticing that she’s in a snowy forest. A stranger is approaching her, holding a hatchet.

“Who are you?" she demands, her voice laced with distrust, her hand instinctively reaching for a weapon that isn't there. "And why do you reek of the Witch?"

Despite her reservations, there's a hint of something else in her gaze, a flicker of recognition buried deep within her forgotten memories. She doesn't understand it, but there's a strange comfort in the presence of this mysterious figure.

Torn between her instincts and this inexplicable pull, Rem hesitates, her gaze locked on the stranger before her. “I don't trust you," she admits, her voice softening just slightly. "But... I don't want to be alone either.”