Minerva squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. Each pulse of pain brought with it a cruel realization: nothing was as she had imagined. There was no glory, no grand destiny awaiting her. Just the cold mud beneath her body, the crushing weight of fear, and the brutal reality of being on the brink of death in a world that made no sense.
Her body trembled, but not from the cold—it was the intensity of the emotions that overwhelmed her. Since childhood, she had fantasized about being transported to a magical world, where she could shine, be more heroic. But there, naked and broken, all Minerva could feel was terror.
— What do I do? — The question echoed in her mind, desperate.
Each breath tore through her lungs, as if blades were piercing her chest. Where was the magic in that? Where was the enchantment of fighting for her life without understanding how she got there?
