A great dream often comes bitter after the waking of reality.
Experiencing the perfect reality, only to find out that none of it was real—nothing but a cruel mirage dissolving into the harsh light of truth.
A pen clattered onto the polished marble floor, slipping from the fingers of the white-haired girl.
Her once radiant hair, a pristine silver that shimmered with life, had dulled to an almost ashen hue.
Beneath it, tendrils of shadows writhed and coiled, dancing ominously as though alive, feeding on the darkness that emanated from her.
Her beautiful crimson eyes, once like polished rubies brimming with light, had transformed into something distinctly inhuman.
Vertical slits cut through her pupils, predatory and cold, as they gazed out the grand window of her room, piercing through the heart of the city below and far beyond.
The view outside was idyllic.
