Dreaming.
Lately, Rednaya started dreaming constantly.
There are two types of dreams.
The first type is when she repeatedly returns to that cold afternoon: factory, heavy snow, broken leg.
The pain keeps spreading in her thigh, and no matter how long it has been, she cannot forget.
The second type, however, involves her starting to converse with another familiar man.
"Leoz's rejection of me is reaching its limit. I don't know if I can hold out until the ceasefire in 1130. Liali is already on the verge of collapse, and I have a feeling she might be exiled in a few months."
The man lightly leaned against the armrest, resting on the lonely throne. He cupped his face, his temples graying, showing no wrinkles, yet he appeared far older compared to their first meeting twenty years ago.
Rednaya couldn't remember his face nor who he was, but she knew clearly that she had a good relationship with him.
