A year had passed—slow, merciless, and yet unstoppable. Time moved in the same rhythm, indifferent to human pain, indifferent to loss. The seasons had come and gone, each marking the passage of a year since Jessamyn's sacrifice.
Winter had arrived first, harsh and cold, a mirror of Jerrick's heart as he faced the reality of a world without his beloved wife. The valley, once vibrant, lay barren under layers of frost, its beauty gone, much like Jessamyn herself. Snow covered the land where life had once flourished, where rivers had once flowed with crystal clarity, and where lush greenery had once kissed the sky. It was as though the earth itself mourned her loss, bowing under the weight of grief.
