The study to the manor is quiet. Books line the walls, casting small shadows by dancing candlelight. A cold sweat runs down the baroness’ forehead as her face lay in her hands. Elbows perched against her desk, doubled over forward in her chair.
On her knees in a dried, yellow field of grass she screams. Tears are running down her face, and her hands are clenched into fists, pressed into the ground. Edward is standing beside of her. Folding forward, she grabs her scarred hand and clenches it tightly. It’s hard to breathe.
A campfire in a forest with overcast skies. There are tents surrounding the fire in formation, but.. some of them have been torn apart and have collapsed. The fire illuminates the gore on the ground. Torn human bodies. Imperial colors. Something large, furred, wolflike is wheezing its last few breaths before Evelyn drives a sword through it. There’s so much blood.
The same field as before, now covered in snow. Evelyn is here alone now. Gravity is different. The air is electric. Around her, the ground is scorched black in a radius with her as the center. Is she.. floating? Everything hurts so much. Darkness.
A knock on the door jolts Evelyn from her thoughts. “Come in,” she says aloud while wiping at her face. Kalon, a njord man enters the room with a bow of his head. In a njordic accent he offers with a hint of excitement, “Baroness, I have the report from the bursary.” He produces a small leather-bound book. Evelyn gestures for him to come closer, and as he does, she takes the offered book. “Thank you so much, Kalon. I would be lost without you.”
She sets the book on her desk and opens it to read the contents.
With a hint of concern in the njord’s voice he comments, “Are you alright, Evelyn?” There’s a tangible silence for a brief couple moments before Evelyn looks up with a sullen smile. “Some bad memories.”