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The night was silent, with the glow of the moon filtering through the curtains of Vivian's room at the White Gale boarding school. Vivian was deep in slumber when she was suddenly transported to the dark past of her childhood. She found herself on a cloudy day, in the garden of her house, where she was playing with her younger sister, Sarah, who was smiling innocently in her wheelchair The familiar smell of freshly cut grass floated through the air. She was in the garden, a place that used to bring happiness, but was now pervaded by a tense atmosphere. Vivian could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, but the light seemed distorted, as if tinged with shadows. In the nightmare, the conflicting emotions Vivian had felt at the time resurfaced. Corrosive jealousies ate away at her heart as she realized that her parents were always more attentive to Sarah's needs, putting her at the center of their concerns. A feeling of anger boiled up inside Vivian, an anger she could barely

The battlefield lay in ruins. Hundreds of Lord Cennétig’s soldiers littered the ground as far as the eye could see, all laid waste by the hand of the lone combatant left standing. Fionn, the fair-haired hero of his humble village, had fought his way through hordes of enemies, and now he stood alone with the object of his quest at swordpoint. ‘Any last words, wretch?’ the weary paladin asked, his broadsword ready to stab the defeated foe below him. ‘I—I don’t understand!’ Cennétig spluttered, reaching helplessly for the blade that Fionn had knocked from his hand. ‘H-how could a single warrior slay my entire army? This must be s-some kind of trick!’ ‘This is no trick.’ Fionn gestured to the town from which he hailed, visible on the horizon, whose citizens were no doubt praying for his safe return. ‘Your vile army could never hope to stand in the way of virtue. Good will always prevail over evil, as simple as that; a hero with a noble cause can never fail.’ With those valiant words