The wind howled as if the dream itself was cracking apart. Sarissa stood alone, bruised and bloodied, swaying in a wasteland of splintered memories.
Dust swirled at her feet. The sky above, fractured with hairline cracks of gold and obsidian, reflected the chaos within her soul. Memory shards blinked in and out of existence. Some half-formed, some screaming with voices long gone.
Ahead, her younger self rose again.
Still barefoot, wild-eyed, still holding the blade made of every scar, every failure, every loss she had refused to mourn.
Sarissa didn't move. She simply breathed.
One breath, then another.
"You don't get to stop. You don't get to pretend this is over." The girl snarled, blood matting her hair, her posture sagging with exhaustion.
"I'm not pretending." Sarissa murmured, her voice quieter than the wind. "I just… Understand now."
"Understand?" The younger her barked a laugh. Dry, broken. "You understand nothing. You think pitying me makes this go away?"
