... He couldn't help but think of that white hair and those sharp blue eyes. Over the past week, no matter day or night, he always thought of Lynn Elikania's figure; in his chaotic and tangled dreams, it was the moonlight-pale undead, and in his imagination during the day, it was the reflection of the sun on the sword's blade. She never let any worldly dust tarnish her pure whiteness. She even escaped aging, died at the right age, and then quietly looked at all of them who were still alive.
"The deceased is unconscious, and we offer our condolences. She will rest in peace today, using the earth as her quilt and the sky as her dome, and enter eternal sleep."
Now no one will answer these questions because Lynn Elikania is dead.
The white heather was speechless.
Purpose: In the end, she got what she wanted, but we are still suffering in the world.