Where did everything take a wrong turn?
Ingrid adorned herself in an exquisite white overall with long bishop sleeves and billowy pants. She was meant to perform the Mountain God's Spear Dance at the temple festival. Seated in a magnificent silver carriage straight out of a fairy tale, she anticipated this day for months, the fruit of her hard work.
It was a moment she had eagerly awaited, being the first task assigned to her as an Ásján princess.
So how did it all turn out like this?
Ingrid lay motionless beneath the wreckage of the shattered carriage, feeling an odd numbness enveloping her entire body. The relentless sound of rain drumming on the broken wood above her filled her ears. She couldn't see anything beyond the debris that covered her, her world confined to the damp, encroaching darkness.
