Flurries catch the moonlight and shimmering stars in their descent. He wonders, as his life leaves him behind, how everything can change so suddenly. How priorities and events that seem as miniscule as snowflakes can turn into avalanches in an instant.

Will she have the necessary strength to tame my curse?

He looks up to find the woman he fought standing over him, curved sword in hand.

"You are much less formidable in that state. Far less bothersome." The woman nears.

He says nothing in return, but rather coughs, splattering blood from his wound.

"I must ask..." She lowers to his level, face scrunched up beneath the cover of her hood. He hadn't noticed before that her head is shaved to the scalp, an unsettling look for such a pretty face. "Why? You are but a new enterer, alone in the midst of the forest.... I'm certain you haven't made contact with any others, so...why? For what reasons do you oppress?"

His lips crack, a maniacal laugh bursts through. "Why do I oppress? This land is a lie! Anyone who stands by allowing others to be taken is not in their right mind!"

The woman's cheek twitches.

"That's right," he says, striking a nerve. "That includes you. The moment I received this curse, I vowed to free those who—"

Her wrist flips while she simultaneously bounces to her feet. Her outstretched sword drips in red.

"Silence," she says calmly, though her breathing is uneven. She stares at his disfigured form which now lacks a head. The brown cluster of scars emblazoned on his chest disappears beneath a layer of blood.

"Come, Belitza," calls the darker man.

The girl whimpers behind her hands. She stands awkwardly between the two men, her wounded thigh trembling. The woman, Belitza, considers her momentarily, wondering idly if the Queen will, in fact, show the girl mercy.

Frowning, she swipes her blade clean and sheathes it before turning to follow the others and leaving behind the corpse of the world's only savior for the coming half century.