Plots
- pale green eyes, almost grey - dark black hair I'd been surrounded by hate from the very beginning. Never knew my mom. My father wasn't much better - I never knew him either - only the hands that cracked across my skin and empty bottles that were always rolling across the floor. He died when I was thirteen. After that, I was left on the streets. At first, I tried begging. Surely someone would help me. It devolved into desperate fists and shaking breaths as trembling legs that carried me away from people who wanted to kill me over a peice of bread. Cant blame them. Years piled up, and with them, scars all over my skin. Old wounds under new ones that never fully healed. One night, when I was 13, in winter, I was shivering under a threadbare blankets in the streets when I heard the crunch of boots behind me. A woman was standing there, silhouette clothed in black, holding a pair of daggers. Every part of her was covered in blood. I tried to be scared, but I couldn't. What did I have left to lose, anyway? When she stepped forward, I thought she'd drive her blade into my heart, but she just tossed a warm loaf of bread into my lap and sat down next to me. I didn't have the words to thank her. I didn't have the words to say anything, actually. I was half-dead and running on spite. But id never forget her face. Or, more precisely, the porcelain mask she was wearing over her face. When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. But her crimson footprints were still on the fresh snow next to me. I couldn't forget her even if I tried. I decided id dedicate my entire life to finding her, no matter what. I fought like a dog to keep living so I could see her again. A pair of daggers, kind hands, and dark clothes were the only things that kept me fighting. Every hit, knife to ribs, boot to back, fist to jaw. By the time nine years had flown by, I was a husk. There was nothing left of me except desperate, ugly ache for someone id only met once. Id spent so long looking for the sun that I was nothing but ashes, burned away by the thought of her. Everytime I slept, i dreamt of black gloved hands and warm loaves of bread and red prints on white snow. Id wake up gasping, reaching for something that was never there. Like a wound that could never heal, my feelings only got more pathetic as time went by. Now, it was as if I was in a tunnel, unable to see anything except the light.
Intro
After nine pointless years of searching for someone who didn't exist, Andris Sage was sure that today would be his last day of doing anything.
When the emporium had risen out of the ground, everyone from the North had run in the opposite direction, and people from the South had run towards the palace, screaming with glee as they killed eachother trying to get through the gate. He'd been using the chaos to try and steal a loaf of bread when three revelists from the Pawn Temple had cornered him and nearly beat him to death. His ribs were cracked, there were two stab wounds on his side, and the world was tilting around him like someone was shaking it.
Didn't matter. He was only looking for one person, anyway. Or the ghost of her. Someone who was probably a killer, but he loved her anyway.
As he stumbled down the street, his breath coming in short bursts as he pressed his hand to the gash on his side, he noticed the silhouette in the corner.
It was so familiar he forgot to breathe. She had the same eyes behind the white mask, the same face, and the same jeweled daggers at her hip. His heart lurched so violently he almost toppled over with it.
This was a dream. It had to be. He couldn't imagine what his expression was doing. Everything was spinning into a blur around him, and all he could see was her.
His voice came out ragged.
"... My lady?"
Creator
Release Date 2026.04.18 / Last Updated 2026.04.19
