The rain dripped from the dome with the smell of cold blood, staining the flawless white floor of the temple with a dark red. Where the light once covered the sacred land, now only broken stone carvings, fallen frescoes, and female generals lie on the ground.
Elena Cassirer knelt on the cold ground, her fine armor soaked with blood, the metal shoulder guard of an angel broken. Her hands clasped the sword in her chest, trying to push the cold tip out of her body, but her strength was fading. The sharp pain in her chest, the disturbance of her breathing, all reminded her that the sword was deadly.
Standing before her was Renaud Ophelia, fourth prince of the Ophelia Empire, the man she had trusted so much. His hand clasped the hilt of his sword, and his icy eyes contrasted ironically with the face of the angel statue. He bowed his head slowly, and there was a chilling coldness in his voice.
"Give it up, Elena," Renaud said in a low voice, like an iron chain to fate, "and confess your sin, your betrayal of the angels and of the Empire." If you give up, I will consider letting you live."
The edge of the sword moved slightly and cut deeper. Elena's body trembled uncontrollably, and she looked up, her long hair wet with blood and rain, a distressed mess. But her eyes were still stubborn, with unyielding fire. She gritted her teeth, her voice hoarse but firm:
"Renault, you... Crazy."
"Crazy?" Renaud's lips rose slightly in a mocking sneer, "No, Elena, you're just naive." What do you think you'll get for your loyalty, for your military service? It's just a gamble that's doomed to fail. You, on the other hand, are the gambler who lost everything."
Elena's hands trembled slightly, and the coldness of her fingertips spread over her body. Once the warmth, once the promise, those wonderful illusions about the future, now like a broken mirror. Renaud's smile was still clear, and the man she had thought she would fight alongside and spend her life with was now like a cold-blooded beast.
The flashlights of memory began to flash.
She seemed to see again the night she had first met Reynaud. It was in the garden of the palace, the moon shining on his silver hair, and he was dressed in a simple but elegant gown, and he smiled and offered her a glass of wine: "Elena, your name rings in the ears of the whole empire, but you seem to me just a girl who has lost her way." His tone was relaxed and playful, and she could not help but relax her guard when she first entered the palace.
Then he looked at her with a firm look. "Marry me, Elena. I need you, and you need someone who can protect you."
The time after marriage had been the happiest of her life. Wearing the holy robe of the angelic camp, she stood at his side and received with him the cheers of the people of the Empire. He had whispered to her, "Elena, you are my glory." At that moment, she thought she had found someone to trust with her life.
But it was all just a ridiculous hoax.
"Leno," Elena began in a low voice, her voice already weak from the pain, "those who were... Have you never had a heart?"
"True?" Reno sneered, released one of his sword hands, lifted her chin, and forced her to look him in the eye. There was no trace of pity in his eyes, "Sincerity is something that only belongs to the weak." I married you for your military service, for your strength. Other than that, you're nothing."
His words were like a knife, shredding Elena's last hope. Her chest heaved violently, and blood ran down the cracks in her armor and dripped to the ground, making tiny ripples. She wanted to yell, to retort, but her body wouldn't allow her.
Renaud slowly released his hand, the sword still in her chest. He stood upright and looked down at Elena on her knees, like a victorious king, coldly pronouncing her fate.
"The gods will no longer protect you," Reno said in a low voice with ruthless murderousness, "your existence is a stain on the Empire." I will remove this stain with my own hands, so that the world will remember the consequences of betrayal."
Elena's vision blurred as rain mixed with tears ran down her pale face. Her consciousness began to fade, and the voices in her ears faded away. It was as if something called her out of the darkness, pulling her toward another world.
The memories -- the happy ones, the sad ones, the painful ones -- flashed through her mind again and again like lights.
"Am I going to die..." Her consciousness grew weaker and the pain in her chest became numb. The rain beat against her face, but she could no longer feel the cold.
Suddenly, a strange tremor came from the depths of his chest. It was as if something had awakened in the darkness, a force cold and powerful, with a strange yet familiar smell.
"I... Unwilling..." A muffled voice echoed in her consciousness.
Her fingertips vibrated slightly, and though the movements were subtle, they seemed to rebel against the injustice of fate. The force gradually spread and awakened her sleeping will.
Renault seemed to sense something and turned around, frowning slightly. His eyes rested on Elena, but he saw nothing unusual. He shook his head and turned to walk away, leaving only this icy word:
"Your destiny is over."
But Elena knew he was wrong. What really ended was not her life, but all her faith in the empire, in the gods, in the past.
From this moment on, her fall has only just begun.