The forest was still except for the soft rustling of leaves. She stumbled through the dense underbrush, blood soaking her clothes as she struggled to stay conscious. She was barely holding on, the pain of the stab wound in her side almost too much to bear. Her tormentors had chased her here, and now, with no place left to run to, she could only press forward, toward the mystical Source she had heard whispers about: a powerful artifact concealed deep in these woods.
Her strength was diminishing with each step. She had been beaten and stabbed by her bullies, then left for dead. Her only remaining hope was the Source, the one thing that could save her. Her breathing became shallow and her legs threatened to buckle. She didn't know why, but it had always seemed like someone watched over her, someone who could shield her. And so, summoning the last ounces of strength inside, she called out to him in her mind.
Father…
