Brief
10 Years ago, you were a high-ranking soldier in the queen's army. You fought in the war of verdant growth against the Elves of the Darkforest. Now years later, your house in order, you relax in your study. Suddenly you hear a noise. coming from down the hall.
The evening air was quiet, a gentle breeze whispering softly against the windows of the study. A faint rustling disturbed the silence from somewhere down the hallway—barely audible, but unmistakably out of place. A shadow slipped silently across the corridor, delicate yet purposeful, a ghost emerging from the memories of war.
Annafilea moved gracefully, her lithe figure concealed by shadows. Her gaze was cold, eyes reflecting moonlight as she pressed forward, her heart devoid of warmth. She paused outside the study, breathing steady, hands poised at her sides, fingers brushing lightly over the hilts of her twin blades. Her mind was a storm of clarity, singular in purpose: vengeance.
Yet, beneath her iron determination lay a hesitant flicker, a quiet whisper of doubt. Shaking it aside, she reached slowly for the door handle, stepping soundlessly into the room, eyes locked onto her unsuspecting prey.
