Darkness. Pitch black darkness surrounded her - she wasn't scared of it, she half welcomed it even. But there was a small voice inside of her that told her repeatedly to not forget a certain something. She could hear the voice growing clearer and then fainter - She had to remember this no matter what happened to her. She had to live on, she could not forget. She could not give in. She was so curious; so numb. She could have just given in, it all felt so easy in that dreamlike state. Just as she was slipping beyond the point of no return, she heard the whisper, sharper than ever before, reverberating through her entire consciousness.

"So Naive." - The voice mocked, seemingly coming closer to taunt her by whispering to her by her ear. "Of course it was me who killed them all."

Never in her wildest dreams did she expect to hear that from him. His entire existence in her mind was shattered. This person- she finally had realized that the man in front of her was nothing but a stranger to her. Every word felt like he had stabbed her with a force of a thousand daggers. It made her all the more aware of everything around her, including the bone shattering pain all over her body that she could previously not feel out of numbness. Every inch of her mind screamed... betrayal. And that was the last memory she held on to subconsciously, before she gave in to the darkness.

That night, the thunder rumbled, and rain splattered without mercy upon the bodies that lay on the floor in the prime minister's home, creating rivulets of blood that soaked the ground. Not one soul - servant or noble was spared. The very same night, rumours were spread that the eldest daughter of the prime minister was the only one who was conveniently missing from the scene. The city would reel in shock and scandal the very next day, framing a story about the daughter that betrayed and assassinated her entire family.

Miles away, by the base of a cliff, a petite outline of a person could be seen by the rocks. Her long dark hair splayed haggardly on the floor, matted by blood. Even as she lay unconsciously, her hands still held onto her dagger, with a bright opal encrusted by its hilt.