The mist enshrouds my barren body.
Left to die in the wild, nothing but a black veil of despair clouding over me.
A barren, lifeless valley.
"...Heh, my body's never been this cold before. Guess I'm a survivor."
They were making more shipments today.
The slave trade never falters in these parts.
I don't recall ever believing I'd escape that kind of life.
In hindsight, I guess the storm was a relief all its own.
"Believe in yourself... and you shall succeed. Such encouraging words..."
She had a lover there, or so it seemed, anyway.
A striking youth clad in black, simple yet elegant.
There was never any doubt as to his intentions - he made sweet promises
and delivered on them tenderly.
But it was all too fleeting.
The thunder clapped in a vicious salvo.
Fear, disgust... excitement?
Mixed together in the shallow night, that night, the night she was being led away.
The rich, the powerful - they are the true clientele. She was to be theirs.
--No longer, she'd decided.
Fortune called, and her answer lay in her hands.
In that night.
Collapsing from the mountainside, they say a cart once filled with people came to be ash and rubble.
Amidst speckled dust...
Crissele arises.
Knife in hand, and the bloody remains of traders at her heel.
Yet now, hope eludes her.
"He always did say I should stop speaking to myself--!"
...Laughing in the inside, dying on the outside.
Much like those days with him.
Why were they to part, then?
It is a barren valley indeed.
Nothing lives in these parts.
The vegetation is just a mixture of enduring trees and harsh, rugged grass, and the air is a mixture
of dread and--
--A howl. In the distance, a deep cry.
Was it loneliness I felt?
