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In Flowing Wind World…
The forest blazed with autumn color. The wind sighed through the pines, and moss crept over ancient blue stones.
A girl sat there, her long black hair covering half her face. Curved in a sweet smile, her eyes were dark as ink. Her black dress clung tightly to her thin frame. She was malnourished and fragile. The skin on her exposed hands was so pale, it was almost translucent, veins faintly visible beneath. Sickly, yet beautiful like a porcelain doll.
Though young, she was already striking, the promise of great beauty to come. The only flaw was the scar running across her face, carved with a strange character that lent her a tragic, broken charm. She looked into the reflection in the water, smiling softly.
"When I grow up," she said, "I'll be the most beautiful girl in the world."
As her words fell, she thrust the dagger in her hand into the neck of the man lying beside her. Blood spattered across her black dress and splashed upon her pale face.
Around her stood six men in black. They were grim-faced, weapons drawn.
A swordsman growled. "You wicked little...
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