>>Enya (Original Timeline)
The world was quiet.
Too quiet.
I sat in front of the grave, the once-green earth now blanketed with a layer of snow so thick, I could hardly recognize the landscape. The oak tree's branches were heavy with frost, hanging low, as if mourning with me.
My fingers trembled as I clutched the ancient book in my lap, the brittle pages fluttering in the icy wind. One page lay open, the inked words blurring in my vision—not from the cold, but from the tears that brimmed in my eyes.
The cold bit into my skin, somehow seeping through the thick fabric of my clothes.
Or perhaps it wasn't the cold that I was really.
No, it was definitely something else.
A hollow feeling inside of me. It felt like the ground had opened up beneath me, swallowed me whole, and left me here—staring at that grave as if it held my entire world beneath it.
And it did.
