On a battlefield strewn with wreckage, a woman in red clutches a blood-soaked man and weeps. When she has cried her fill, she raises her head, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly as she murmurs something.
Looking down at the man lying quietly in her arms, she lets out a soft sigh. Her face is filled with pain and sorrow. She straightens their clothes, picks up a dagger lying nearby, and slowly, bit by bit, drives it into her heart before collapsing into his arms.
“Who are you?”
“Where is she?”
“Why can’t it be me? Why!”
One dream brings the scene back to life. What tangled grievances bind them together?
When all her memories return, how will she choose?
The first move has been made, and the story begins. Let the storm unfold.
