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An old book sits alone on a gnarled wooden podium, light filtering over it through fluttering mossy curtains. The sun is up, and the wind sings through the rustic room with a sound like glass wind chimes. A quick glance around the room reveals tables and shelves, but no chairs. In the very back, a golden sword sits on a toppled desk. Despite the beauty of her surroundings, a young woman in an azure cloak laments everything she has been through. Her journey started here, and here it seems it will end, in the charred remains of a forest cottage with a blue-skinned man bleeding out in her arms. He chokes on his own blood, a poison flower petal of glass sticking out of his neck, and looks up at her with piercing green eyes the color of emeralds. "Reina," he gasps, and the young woman sobs, trying to remain silent. "Grab your sword. They'll come back in a moment."

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