Prologue: Winds of Change

A wise man once said, it doesn’t take a thousand minds to change one, but one mind to change a thousand.

Wind is often associated with change; it is said the blow people together, whether it be fate, luck, or something else I do not know. But tonight the wind blows exceptionally strong. A large city lay on the horizon of a field entirely covered in snow, the silhouette of a large tower looming ominously over the world. The eye of the moon stares down at the surface below, its eye’s piercing glow giving a faint light to the hard snow on the ground. The wind is cold tonight, as if trying to discourage people who seek change or escape. I, however, see it as merely a test of courage. 

A young woman no older than sixteen is out in this field. Her hair is long, blond, and messy, the moonlight reflecting in her blue eyes as she pushes forward toward an unseen goal. Her body turns purple and blue from frostbite; the air she breathes is dry and heavy, and with each breath it feels like it weighs her down. She can no longer feel the cold; her body is barely covered up by clothes made of tattered and frayed fabric barely stitched together, riddled with holes. This woman bears a mark on her back, a brand, the symbol of a N eclipsing the sun. She wears no shoes or gloves; her hands and feet are calloused and rough like sandpaper. But most horrifically of all, her body is covered in thousands of scars. The only places free of them are her hands and her head. They are the kind of marks that could only be made by burns, cuts, and beatings. Around her wrists are metal shackles, each one having the end of a broken chain rattling from it. Before us stands a woman who has lived through what could only be described as Hell.

She stumbles forward through the frozen field, one small step at a time, with grit teeth and a look of pure determination. After hours of walking, she finally reaches the end of the field and enters a dense forest. It is much darker in the woods; the trees form a roof that keeps out most of the moonlight. The air, however, is slightly warmer, offering some relief to her lungs. But due to the lack of light, she trips over a root hidden under the snow and falls forward, her arm getting caught on a branch, ripping open a large gash from which blood oozes. She lies face down in the snow for a moment, catching her breath before getting up onto her hands and knees. She takes in a deep breath and rises to her feet once more; she doesn’t even feel the wound on her arm.

More time passes, and through the trees, the moon is at its apex. The young woman still pushes forward, but each step slows her pace more and more. Her limbs look nearly necrotic now, and the gash on her arm is frozen shut, yet she keeps walking. Eventually she enters a large clearing in the woods, likely a frozen lake. But just then the world begins to spin around; exhaustion is catching up to her as she falls to the ground, lightheaded. She makes her way back up onto her hands and knees again, breathing heavily, every exhale shooting out mucus and phlegm onto the ground. Tears nip at her eyes as she bites her lip, causing it to bleed as she triumphantly makes her way to her feet once more. 

Her heart beats with pure determination and will to keep moving. She fights for each step, inching her way forward. But life does not care about determination, nor courage, nor will. As she takes her next step, she falls again, but this time her legs will not move. “Not yet, come on, not yet.” She cries, her voice dry and raspy. She begins to crawl forward, digging her fingers into the snow as she inches forward, her heartbeat slowing. She makes it a few feet before her arms give out on her. The world is still spinning, and her eyes grow heavy; she begins to lose consciousness. She uses what little is left of her strength to turn over and look up at the moon. Its unforgiving eye looks down at her as she closes her eyes. “ So this is it…” She whispers, her voice weaker than before. She looks peaceful for a moment before breaking down into an ugly sob. “This can't be it! No, I won’t accept it! This isn’t the end! It’s not! I can’t be!” She cries out with a broken voice. “I want to live!” She screams.

But no one is there to hear her plea; the trees don’t care, the snow doesn't care, and the moon does not care. She looks up at the moon through blurry eyes one last time. “This can’t… be… it… Please… someone… please…” Her voice fades away as she closes her eyes for what she thought would be the last time… her heart slows, the wind howls, and then silence. 

That night, a young woman faced the test of courage; she ventured out into the cold winter night with nothing but rags on her skin and a fool's hope of seeing the sun once again as a free soul. No matter how hard it became, no matter how cold, no matter how dark, she never gave up… and she never will. The next day, a search party followed her tracks at the trail's end; they found only an empty imprint in the snow…