Rio who had fallen on the ground with hands trembling from blood loss, stared into the Starman's orange eyes. Death stood before her once again, just like years ago when she had ended her first life with suicide. Memories of her six years in this world passed before her eyes like a raging river: small joys, heavy sorrows, Nadia's laughter, and Elian's teachings.
Fear had swallowed her entire being, and the end had fallen like a heavy shadow on her heart.
But suddenly, the Starman's eyes returned to their cold gray color. He raised his head and stared at a point behind Rio, not too far away. Rio, whose vision was blurred, struggled to turn her head. Amid the snowy storm, a large white wolf appeared, with blue eyes that shone like ice. The wolf and the Starman locked eyes, a heavy, wordless gaze that seemed to stop time. The Starman, with a calm but terrifying voice, whispered:
"Consequences?"
To her astonishment, the wolf shook its head, as if giving a silent response. The Starman let out a deep sigh, his gray eyes locking onto Rio again.
Suddenly, with a movement faster than lightning, he reached his black hand toward Rio, so forcefully that it seemed he wanted to crush her skull. Rio, paralyzed by pain and fear, could only see the black hand stop in front of her eyes.
The Starman knelt on one knee, raised his index finger, and with a deep, hoarse voice, like a growl from the depths of the cosmos, said:
"Tell him we are inevitable."
With those words, he stood up and turned back. The ground beneath his feet trembled, and suddenly space and time split open. A star-like gate, like a rift to endless galaxies, appeared before him. Radiant purple and blue lights emanated from it, as if the gate led to the heart of the void. The Starman stepped toward the gate, and as he passed through it, without looking back, he said in a cold voice:
"We will see each other again, sentinel."
Then like a shadow lost in light, he vanished into the star gate. The gate closed with a sound like a cosmic wail, and a deathly silence filled the plain, with only the howling of the storm lingering in the air.
Rio who had lost a lot of blood, struggled to crawl toward Nadia. Her breaths were rapid and ragged, as if air couldn't reach her lungs. She pressed her healthy hand on her severed wrist, but warm blood gushed through her fingers, like a red river sinking into the white snow. Her eyes blurred, and her body grew weak. With her last effort, she looked at Nadia, who lay unconscious on the ground, and then darkness swallowed her.
Some time passed. Rio was immersed in darkness until she felt something dragging her on the ground. With blurred and hazy vision, she realized she was being pulled across the snow, but before she could understand anything, she fainted again. When she came to again, she felt her body being dragged on a wooden floor. The sounds were muffled, but the sound of a gate opening and the cold air giving way to faint warmth reached her ears. A woman's voice, calm and worried, echoed in the air:
"What happened?"
Rio tried to say something, but her throat was dry, and her body was lifeless. Before she could react, darkness swallowed her again.
When she opened her eyes again, a terrible headache stabbed through her head like a dagger. Her body was half-naked, and her severed wrist was wrapped in bloody bandages. She was lying on a large bed in a dark, old room that smelled of burnt wood and dried herbs. The faint light of a fireplace in the corner flickered, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. Rio struggled to turn her head and saw a small table beside the fireplace. A tall woman stood there, grinding herbs with a stone mortar.
She wore a thin, short dress, and old scars on her arms and shoulders looked like a map of past battles. Her hair, a mix of white and black, shone like a stormy cloud in the fireplace's light.
Rio tried to speak, but her throat was so dry that no sound came out. She waited for a few minutes until the woman's voice, like a calm whisper, echoed in the room:
"For now, try to rest."
The woman turned toward Rio. Her face was cold and emotionless, her turquoise eyes gleaming.
She was a dragon.
She gently mixed the ground herbs in a bowl with warm water and approached Rio. With a soft movement, she helped Rio sit up slightly and slowly fed her the contents of the bowl. Rio coughed; the bitter taste of the herbs burned her throat, but gradually she felt her body regain some strength. Leaning against the bed's pillow, with a weak and trembling voice:
"Where is this? Who are you? Where are Nadia and Ayhan?"
The woman placed the empty bowl on the table beside the fireplace, pulled a wooden chair from the corner of the room, and sat in front of Rio. She clasped her hands together, her turquoise eyes locking onto Rio, a gaze that seemed to pierce into the depths of Rio's soul.
"Since I saved your life, I'm the one who asks first. Who are you? And why are you here?"
Rio wanted to answer, but her gaze suddenly fell on her severed wrist. The bloody bandages, carefully wrapped around her wound, were like a silent scream from that horrific moment. The image of the Starman, with his black cloak waving like a living shadow, came alive in her mind like a nightmare. The merciless slaughter of the elves, the screams lost in smoke and ash, and the burning pain of her severed wrist overwhelmed her like a wave.
Tears streamed from her eyes, and her voice turned into a loud, broken scream:
"What kind of place is this? I just wanted another chance! Just a chance to make things right! I didn't want this! I didn't want any of this! I didn't want this damned world and its events!"
Her cries echoed in the room like a raging river, and her body trembled with the intensity of her sobs. The mysterious woman with those cold, emotionless turquoise eyes stood up. She took a cloth from the table beside the fireplace, dipped it in a bowl of warm water, and returned to Rio. She sat on the wooden chair again and, with a gentle movement, wiped Rio's face with the wet cloth, cleaning her tears and the dried blood on her cheeks. Her voice was like a calm but firm whisper:
"I was wrong. It's not just physical rest you need."
Then, she gently placed her finger on Rio's forehead. A cold, strange touch, as if magic flowed through it. Rio's eyes grew heavy, and the world around her began to spin. As darkness swallowed her again, a soft whisper from the woman reached her ears:
"For now, sleep."
Rio, with a body that no longer had the strength to resist, sank into a deep sleep, and the sound of the flickering fireplace and the smell of dried herbs faded into the darkness.