Sylvia ran.
Her long white hair swayed as she ran. She was like the icy wind.
Her violet eyes were wide open and it was the only speck of color one would see from afar. A white figure with vivid violet eyes.
She looked like a white wolf as she ran and leaped on the snowy rocks, running without gasping for air.
Then she stopped.
Not to take a rest but to look down on the snowy terrain.
It was as if she could not feel the snow. She showed no signs of being cold.
It was as if she was the snow.
Hundreds of years ago, White Peaks was not under perpetual winter.
Hundreds of years ago, The Land of the Red Sun was not under a perpetual red sky.
Hundreds of years ago, White Peaks was also stained with blood.
"Come out," Sylvia said in her raspy whispery voice.
She stood still, waiting, her stance that of ready to fight. She had no weapon but just as King Raegan said, Sylvia would not be killed.
