Cloud District

[Jeriah]

The Eye Of The Storm

The masked woman's formidable abilities were not to be underestimated. Utilizing her mastery over shadows, she crafted a dense shield that effectively blocked the blinding sunlight from hindering her vision for an extended period. This tactical move allowed Indira's younger sister, Satou, a vital window of opportunity. With the villagers now running to safety, Satou had succeeded in aiding the innocent bystanders in their escape from the battle's chaos.

As the villagers fled to safety, the situation shifted focus to Satoru. The determined shinobi surged with power, channeling her chakra into her unique sugar-based technique. With incredible precision and control, she transformed her chakra into a dense, solid wall that deftly caught the barrage of senbons meant to assail her and Indira. Her mastery of chakra manipulation was clearly unmatched, leaving no doubt about her skills. Unyielding in her determination, Satoru's hands flew through intricate hand seals with remarkable speed and decisiveness. The air around her seemed to hum with energy as she channeled her chakra into a spectacular display of power. From the very fabric of her chakra, she summoned forth a gargantuan dragon sculpted from the shiniest and hardest rock candy. The creature radiated a dazzling aura, its sleek form exuding an air of deadly elegance. Its edges were razor-sharp, promising grievous harm to anything it touched. Yet, the danger didn't end with the dragon's physical prowess. With every resonating roar, the dragon unleashed rapid-fire candy corn-like pellets from its maw. These innocent-looking projectiles held a deadly secret – propelled at incredible speeds, they transformed into formidable mini-projectiles. Each candy corn had the capacity to pierce even the most fortified of armor, posing a dire threat to any who crossed their path.

Satoru's confidence was well-earned as she commanded her creation, witnessing the awe-inspiring spectacle of her own power. Amidst the chaos, Indira stood as both a brother and a spectator, taken aback by the depth of his sister's abilities. He marveled at her prowess, realizing that he might have unknowingly underestimated her strength due to his own protective instincts. Indira's thoughts turned inward as he contemplated his role in this battle. As he watched Satoru's display of power, he began to question his own place on the battlefield. His protective nature towards Satoru had sometimes clouded his perception of her true capabilities. Perhaps this moment was a revelation that she was more than capable of holding her own.

With a sense of resolve, Indira's chakra manipulation came into play. He deftly manipulated the environment around him, hovering a mere five feet above the ground to ensure that his shadow would not be easily manipulated by any unseen adversary. Positioned just ten feet behind Satoru, he watched her fierce battle with the masked woman. His arms crossed, he remained poised to assist if the situation demanded his intervention.

However, his attention was momentarily diverted by a newcomer. The stranger's air of overconfidence was palpable, hinting at a formidable strength beneath the surface. Despite the ongoing battle, this foreigner's demeanor seemed to convey a sense of invincibility as he strode onto a battlefield heavy with the scent of impending death. He watched carefully not knowing if the man was an ally or a enemy.

Post Order: Saturo --> Indira --> Saburo --> Story​

 

[Mugen]

---

Information in their line of work was imperative, especially when going against multiple opponents. Which was why Lord Saburō was confused when the enemy willing restricted their line of sight giving everyone an advantageous moment. Nonetheless, Saburō gracefully pushed into action as he formulated a single hand seal with one hand giving birth to two water clones, both radiating an incredible cold aura that would almost be visible to the eye. The original pushed back and find himself on top of a building clear of shadows as he formulated a single handseal once again and held it tight under his chest. Water from the surrounding areas would begin to slowly slither and push towards the four of them and begin forming a sphere around them all. It was about one hundred feet away from either of them and its closing ensured that everyone had cleared out of the way. Was this keep the fight contained or for an entirely different purpose? Only time would tell.

In the meantime, the one that appeared to be Saburō shot forward at an incredible speed aiming to be assistance to Satoru and Indira. The needles he seemed to not be worried about as the cold aura around them forced the movement to zero due to its coldness. The closer they came, the more slowed down they became until they were rendered still and absorbed. This is because the cold aura mimics absolute zero where atoms stop moving entirely. The copy must've taken four steps before raising his hand above his head as an ice javelin formed and was launched toward the enemy within the sphere. Reinforced with powerful ice chakra and tossed at a respectable speed, the ice javelin had the power to shoot through steel. The intent was to hopefully break the sphere with the projectiles from Satoru for a more devastating impact.​

---

 

[STORY]

ARC CONTINUES.
INVADING FORCE FROM THE SHADOWS - What's going on!?​

...

Darkness…

All encompassing…

All consuming…

Drowning…

Empty…

Painless…

Falling…

Some believe in the existence that lays thereafter…

Some fully embrace the void that awaits them…

Others know of the higher plane…

One where higher, multiversal, creatures dwell... A heaven of sorts, as it was crafted in a design that best suited each of these entities. Some humans even know of these realms, deeming them “Mental spaces” or dreams, however… As much as they dismissed the theory and wrote off these dimensions as fiction, the reality of them all far expanded the realms of human imagination…

Heaven…

Wrought of humanity's tedious desire at the theory that was… Immortality…

The blessings of the celestials that allowed for them to walk amongst them in realms that held no place for them… A pity, once one thinks upon the subject, for the concept was obviously born of human fear and the inability to accept the uncaring truth of existence… What lives, dies… What dies, decomposes… What decomposes, is broken into nutrients… Those nutrients promote new life, giving truth to reincarnation... What was enormous, is consumed to feed the miniscule… The miniscule go on to feed the large… All nutrients are used to promote the body… The body is used to propagate… Rebirth is founded through the transference of energy… The one becomes many, as the many are all one…

Its host could not deny this, even in death…

He already belonged…

He had already been…

Taken…

"Allow me ask you a question, if your God would allow my madness to flourish across the globe, then wouldn’t it seem to you that any god like that would be just as mad as I?"

The voice boomed through the vicinity, as the Masked Woman became ensnared in black tendrils constructed of the surrounding shadows. They shuddered and quivered with an eerie intensity as they came into contact with their master - like her own ability was afraid of the masqueraded assailant.

She leaped up high into the air - avoiding any potnetial 'sneak' attacks that awaited her. Grotesque shadowy appendages would sprout forth from the dark crevices around, carrying the woman to a new location where she garnered the advantage of distance.

The woman basked in the despair of her adversaries, dried up blood covering her appendages... but, the blood appeared to not belong to her... no words escaped her breath as she just stood there in silence with nothing but her heavy, almost rhymical, breathing as the air around them felt frigid and crisp.

Noticing the little group of humans, the Masked Assailant quickly took action, tensing her body, her muscles twisting like springs as she prepared to execute a rabo de arraia kick. With a quick twist of her standing foot, she spun onto the ball of her foot, the Woman's leg shooting outward in a powerful Arc. Various whisps of black jolted from the bottom of her foot, racing towards the mistress' opponents with malevolent ferocity. Her leg continued its trajectory, sending the caster into a fluid rotation as they landed lightly on their other foot.

She cast out a hand, shadows circulating her palm before suddenly stiffening - shifting into the shape of a blade.

This, however, only appeared to be a means of distraction. As with subtle clicks of her feet, the shadows around her assailants contorted into a hideous shape- taking on humanoid figures yet gruesomely combined into one being. Hovering silently behind its masters enemies. Its explicit and grimdark shape cried out in what seemed to be pain - allowing its prey to become aware of the new threat they faced.

Had they the willpower to team up and overcome these disturbing threats?

"Can’t you hear the thoughts of all those people? “What could I have done to deserve something like this. God, why are you doing this? Please tell me?” – They’re all clutching their crucifixes and looking to heaven. And yet, he will never give them an answer. So many have died in an instant, stripped of all they hold dear. Have they committed any kind of sin? Where is the logic in it? Can’t you hear all their despair? All this sorrow, but where is his hand, his mercy?"​

 

[Mugen]

---

The civilians had fled and the sphere had officially closed thus leaving no room for escape through the sphere itself. Even then, the surface tension of the water was more powerful than normal and would require a lot of pressure to make a pathway through. However, he maintained his hand seal as there was still more to do. The water continued to pummel in from surrounding water sources filling the bowl that had been set. The enemy would assume themselves swift by taking their body into the air to avoid the ice javelin and the dragon. As they had jumped, the collision of both would create a beautiful, colorful collision of ice and candy with a variety of colors from the color spectrum. The collision would form an ice-candy dome with ice spikes sticking out.

However, they were not safe. Just as they had reached into the air, and before the shadow appendages could come out to carry the woman away, she’d be met with another being sharing the same face as the one from before. Out from behind, he leaped toward her with a katana in hand slicing downwards across her back. His chakra fully suppressed and his footsteps not making a single sound as he gracefully moved through the air towards her back. The speed and the accuracy at which he moved at would clearly showcase why he was a master swordsman as the deep cut would prove fatal had it not been correctly dodged. Unfortunately, the scar and the pain from the blade would not be the only thing she’d have to worry about. It would more so be the numbing and searing pain that would takeover had she been cut. It was almost as if the blade was laced with some sort of poison.

Two quick slashes, fast as the samurai from the Land of Iron, from shoulder to hip bone forming an “X” across her back. The cuts were so deep that the bone would be visible. Had they not been avoided successfully, she’d find herself plummeting downwards toward the ice spikes from the ice-candy dome which would effectively impale her through her stomach. What was her move? How would she avoid this in the air? They’d all watch with a keen eye.​

---

 

[Yon]

SATORU AMATO:
Amidst the chaos, the unimaginable occurred. The fearsome dragon, which Satoru had evaded with a dancer’s grace, didn’t just fall; it fragmented. Its form splintered, not into sharp deadly shards, but into delicate pieces of candy corn and crystalline rock candy. These fragments, like memories of a distant childhood, disintegrated into fine sugar grains, scattering with the winds, only to be drawn back mysteriously into Satoru’s capsule.

The masked woman's voice, gentle yet filled with haunting profundity, echoed in Satoru's ears. The weight of her words seemed to age the young shinobi momentarily. Though she bore the skill of an adept, she was but a child, one sheltered by the veil of her village. The magnitude of the world's truths and the nuances of love remained elusive to her. Her typically fierce countenance yielded to a moment of vulnerability, the furrows on her brow deepening. The soft trail of a tear bore testament to the silent tumult within her. "Brother," her voice quivered, fraught with realization, "Her words pierce true." Perhaps, in the depth of the stranger's strength, Satoru glimpsed a reflection of her own latent potential. Power had never been her pursuit; it was enlightenment she sought and an end to violence.

With an urgency driven by newfound conviction, Satoru thrust her hand forward, summoning the sugar nestled within her capsule. The grains rushed forth, propelled by her chakra, melding into a shimmering arc to guard the masked stranger from the samurai's impending onslaught.

"Forgive my defiance, brother," she whispered, a mix of apology and determination, to the very man who had become her family, her anchor. Her swift movement left a cascade of sugar in her wake, grains that settled silently around Indira's sandals.

Drawing from an inner reservoir of courage, she confronted her newfound adversary, "In a world devoid of divine oversight, where lies the path to peace? Nagato, Madara...their lofty visions wavered and waned. What wisdom, what enlightenment, do you possess that they lacked?" With unwavering resolve, she stood, ready to face the challenges of the world, alongside the very woman who had awakened her spirit. As she leaped a sugary cloud caught her and lifted her near the masked woman who would also in the air, another cloud sprung from what little the capsule had left and attempted to catch the masked woman.

 

[STORY]

ARC CONTINUES.
INVADING FORCE FROM THE SHADOWS - What's going on!?

Death…

Death is absolute…

Death is undeniable…

Death… is the final remaining truth…

The resting of one’s heart was the ending symphony of one’s lifespan, telling of the song that could await one's end… And that is where one would be found, drifting between the realms of the living and dead… Ripe for the picking… And so the plan of the parasite did go into action, as they slithered their way between the realms and fixated themselves deep within the mind of its host’s last moments. It was moments such as these that were perfect for the beast, as desperation caused humans to agree to even the most frightful of circumstances… Threaten a child, slay a leader… Murder a people, destroy a nation… Corrupt a mind, dismantle the world… And from this corrupted seed, so shall this creature’s animosity finally be given fruit and harvest be taken from all of those whom worked together to see its spite…

The Masked Woman…

The Masked Woman…

The Masked Woman, the faceless one…

The Masked Woman, the maleficent afterthought…

The Masked Woman, the Calamity…

The Masked Woman…

A name cursed for generations... Forgotten by the ages, and stricken from the histories of mankind in hopes to extinguish the power found within one’s “Name”. From one’s name, thought is given shape. Creation is given form. Hatred is again born… As the humans live and die, completing their cycles to start anew; so did the hatred founded from the shell from which they were born. The malice of the human race, with no place to go… Eventually, with its name, it created its own legacy, no matter how the Humans attempted to hide it away… And again, the nightmare would take place… An age of terror… An era of horror… The end of peace… Only the… Degraded… The downtrodden… The abandoned… The wounded… The weak… could fall prey to a power greater than they could ever imagine harnessing…

"INSOLENCE!!!"

Malevolence... A subject which the Masked Woman knew well... One which she found herself drowning in... None stop... Forever...

“It h-hurts… It- Krrr… Sc-Scared I’m… Krrrrkeke… KEKAKAHH!!”

KYAHHHHH!!

The piercing sound of her scream reverberated through the very core of the beings around, unfurling an abyssal torrent of that relentless and uncontrollable sensation… an unrelenting tide that ceaselessly plagued the depths of the woman's innermost self... Her every fiber tensed as he wrestled with his mind to confine and suppress the tempestuous force that surged within her… The weight of every single experience she had confronted in recent times pressed upon her adversaries like an immense burden, each memory and challenge interweaving into relentless trials that tested the limits of their endurance… The endurance of her strength… Flowing forth from her very core, it crackled and surged... The bolts of ebony shadow, seep out with an intensity akin to the wicked dance of a thunderstorm. Arcing outward toward those who recklessly converged upon her, it lashed out like a small tempest, slashing the beings that dared enclose the space between them… It was futile to hold it back any longer… Its power like a drug, manipulated the woman… This overwhelming influence bore with it an invitation, an invitation to a realm where unbridled Wrath reigned supreme… It unleashed that primal urge deep down within her being… That urge to Slaughter.

RWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

The Masked Woman battled tooth and nail amid an unforgiving maelstrom of horrors, a relentless torrent of adversaries converged upon her, from every conceivable angle… An unyielding onslaught of challengers and threats assailed her, pushing her resilience and mettle to their utmost limits and with every fiber of the Woman's being, she prevailed… In a desperate struggle… Her survival hung in a precarious balance like a trembling leaf during a storm…

A cloak of furious chakra which took the form of a thick layer of shadow covering her entire body, amplifying the powers of their Jutsu. When activated, the Masked Woman's eyes become obscured, leaving only their blank irises shown. The use of this Jutsu also improves the Woman's overall physical performance, including their strength, speed, and endurance. An aura of shadows continuously erected and quivered from her body, with the capability of attacking an opponent on its own. The slash that would come towards her back merely dissipated - the katana glued to her shadowy aura and slowly absorbing into her being, being ripped from the very hands of its master. It'd reappear in her palm - having coiled through her entire body - and igniting in a black flame. With a ravenous and expeditious motion, the Masked Woman would spin mid-air and bring down the cloaked blade onto her assailant - attempting to rip them in two with their very own katana.

Any other attacks that came her way... merely slapped away by the whips of chaos that contorted around her being or simply crashing against her newly acquired form.

“Humans will even kill other humans if they have “truth” as an excuse. Death isn’t kind. It’s dark and black, a pitch black abyss, and as far as you… As far as you can see, you’re all alone. But you’ve finally come to realize it now, haven’t you? Only one thing is equal for all, and that is death.”​

 

[Mugen]

---

Knee-high water sloshed around the ground below them and just as the water shifted its tides so did the waves of this battle. There should be no surprises in their line of business. Tables turn, allies become enemies, enemies become allies, and everything you did not expect to happen, happens. The more seasoned you are the less you’re caught like a deer in headlights. Perhaps it was the experience that allowed Saburō to maintain his expressionless face painted or something entirely different. It was always hard to read that guy so it was hard to tell, but he did say something. Just as his sword connected with the candy it was as-if he was on auto-pilot. Not a second passed before he registered what happened and with an emotionless voice he responded to this, “A sympathizer? How pathetic. Your fate will be the same.” There was not an ounce of hatred or annoyance in his voice, there was only determination. He could’ve said anything at that point no matter how ridiculous. He could’ve said he was going to switch the moon with the earth and it would’ve been believable.

In the exact moment those words had been said the water balloon that had been generated began to shrink immediately. The original would shift through water as if it was a permeable layer while for the rest they would be stuck. As it shrunk, the water began to fill the balloon, but the issue was not that at all, but the pressure inside which mimicked deep sea depths. The focal point of the shrinkage? The two of them. They’d first experience the nauseating effects followed by their movement becoming sluggish and challenging. This was the effects of barotrauma and nitrogen narcosis magnified greatly. All this would occur just by the time the katana had been absorbed and felt by the time the katana was swung back towards the clone. By that time though, it would be too late.The focalized point of water was around them, but no larger than a tennis ball forcing the water to become condensed and the pressure to begin to override the volume of water. And then? Boom!

Atsuryoku Kohai
(Pressure Nuke)

The surface tension would break and everything and everyone would be erased from existence. The pressure would grind everything away in the vicinity and nothing would be left, not even a grain. The sound of the explosion would be delayed but would cause severe damage to the buildings surrounding the explosion. By that time the civilians had gotten away clear and so had the original Saburō. Even if somehow they were able to survive the explosion inside the water prison, their internal organs would be destroyed and suffer from an extreme case from the bends. Just as the katana had made its way toward the clone, he’d extend his hands to cause a chakra infused clap. The clap in itself would produce a powerful shockwave that would oscillate the air to cause deafening effects but most importantly, push the masked women out of her chakra infused cloak if connected following by the explosion — which would erase them all.​

---

 

[Yon]

SATORU AMATO:

Amidst the palpable tension, Satoru's gaze locked onto the kunoichi, yearning for acknowledgment. The air grew thick with her unspoken query, only to be met with silence. Drifting into introspection, she wondered, "Am I even worthy of a response?" to Satoru the kunoichi being like a guiding sisterly presence flitted across her mind, but reality jolted her back. An ominous presence—a newcomer—cast a threatening shadow over the arena, his intent clear: devastation.

The ambiance morphed to a frenetic pace as a water balloon, a harbinger of doom, began its menacing contraction. With every passing second, the mounting pressure posed an existential threat, prompting Satoru's mind into overdrive. An epiphany struck; sugar wasn't merely sweet – it possessed a potent hygroscopic nature.

Harnessing her dwindling chakra, Satoru manifested a radiant crystalline sugar barrier around her. Like a sponge, it hungrily siphoned the menacing waters, preventing it from coalescing into a lethal pressurized trap. This quick-thinking afforded her a fleeting reprieve. But she was astute enough to realize the calm was but the precursor to a storm.

Drawing from her unique affinity, she sculpted a sugar bridge beneath her feet. It bore her weight gracefully, letting her skim across the water, creating a gap between her and the imminent cataclysm. As the distant rumblings grew ominously louder, she fortified herself, creating a dense, super-saturated sugar armor, hoping its osmotic resilience would fend off the explosive onslaught. Anticipating the fury of Saburō's impending chakra-infused clap, she then enshrouded herself in a protective sugar cocoon, poised to absorb and deflect the impending devastation.

At the same time, as the landscape vibrated with anticipatory dread, the sugar beneath Indira's stance roared to life. Acting as a catalyst, it attempted to thrust him skyward, elevating him from the ground zero of the impending explosion, sparing him from its most savagely of attacks.

 

[Jeriah]

The Eye Of The Storm

Saburo, a sadistic enemy of both Indira and Satoru, stood before them with malevolent intent, ready to unleash a jutsu of unparalleled destruction. It was a dark technique, one that had no business being utilized when allies were present, and it sent a surge of anger through Indira, the man who went under the moniker as the Eye of the Storm. He had no intention of allowing Saburo to harm Satoru, the person who meant more to him than anyone else in the world.

As Saburo began to invoke this forbidden jutsu, a sense of impending doom filled the air. The atmosphere crackled with malevolence, and the sheer scale of the technique he was attempting was horrifying. It was clear that this was a power that should have never been tampered with.

Satoru, sensing the imminent danger, sprang into action. Her sugar-based abilities came to life in a whirlwind of activity. In an instant, she conjured a protective dome, a barrier formed from her sweet chakra-infused substance. It was a testament to Satoru's quick thinking and formidable abilities, creating a shelter in the midst of chaos. Simultaneously, the sugar beneath Indira's feet responded to Satoru's unspoken will. It surged upward, lifting him into the air. The sugar cushioned his ascent, carrying him out of harm's way just in time to avoid the impending onslaught of Saburo's jutsu.

All of this transpired in mere moments, from the time Saburo had invoked the jutsu to the point where it had not yet fully formed. The focalized point of water, condensed to no larger than a tennis ball, continued to exert its relentless pressure, threatening to override the volume of water and crush everything in its path. However, as they teetered on the brink of disaster, a resolute and defiant spirit burned within Indira, he couldn't bear the thought of losing Satoru, the person who had become his anchor and his reason for fighting. With unwavering determination, Indira summoned his elemental affinity, the power of the wind. With a deafening whistle, a tempest of howling winds erupted from him, a manifestation of his chakra-infused abilities. It was a display of power and control over the elements that only someone of Indira's caliber could achieve. The winds he summoned were more than just air in motion; they were a force of nature, a tempest that could reshape the battlefield. Indira mastery over wind manipulation was awe-inspiring. He conjured a series of concentrated tornados, each one a miniature cyclone with enough force to push back the encroaching water. These tornados acted as a protective barrier, preventing the water from forming around him and Satoru, and disrupting Saburo's jutsu. As the wind tore through the air, it carried with it an intense energy. The roaring tornados created a cacophony of sound and motion, drowning out the sinister intent of Saburo's jutsu. It was a clash of elements, a battle between the destructive power of water and the fierce winds of defiance.

In the midst of this chaotic showdown, the masked woman found herself helpless. She was caught in the crossfire, unable to withstand the combined might of the sugar dome and the raging wind tornados. Her existence was obliterated by the overwhelming forces at play.

But before Indira could confront Saburo directly, the cunning and malevolent foe managed to slip away, disappearing into the shadows. Indira knew that this battle was far from over, and he needed to bring the matter to the attention of the Shinobi Alliance, thus him and Satoru escaping to the Grass District. The threat posed by Saburo was too significant to be handled by a single warrior alone. With Satoru by his side, they would seek justice and ensure that Saburo's dark ambitions were thwarted.

​

 

[STORY]

ARC CONTINUES.
INVADING FORCE FROM THE SHADOWS - What's going on!?

Defeat...

Her life went by in a blur, only certain moments sticking with the mystery woman, as if watching bits and pieces of her life as a spectator. The world had become cloudy and cold. She felt the cold seeping into her bloodstream, struggling to be anything other than excruciating in her grief. She never had felt this void of feelings before, not that she hadn't felt plenty of emotions. She remembered spending weeks randomly crying at various points with unknown triggers, or throwing items across the room whenever a memory flicked into her consciousness that turned her insides around. But it didn't matter, no outburst could change the dull pain she felt. She had never suffered a loss of equal degree. All casualties of the war one way or another. She couldn't see past her grief, her anger, her emptiness. She couldn't imagine an end to the grief, or happiness ever being possible again.

Anger, she could bear, the unquenchable ache of loss she could not. No matter how much she tried to suppress it, there was an underlying emptiness behind her every waking moment. Sleep offered no escape, the night supplying sleepless nights of restless tossing and turning. And the days brought aimless chatter and long pauses in the day, unable to cross the cliff she desperately tried to ignore.

The croak of a glassy-eyed woman carried on the dusty wind and mixed with the heavy, rasping breathing of her adversaries. She was a speck on the horizon, traveling slowly across a vast expanse of nothing but scrubland. Here and there lay the skeletal remains of pre-war houses, their eyes empty, gaping doorways calling silently for her to stop, to rest, just for a while, just for forever. She tried to wipe dry blood off her face with the back of one hand, the other loosely gripping her chest. Dark flecks of brown scattered to the wind. On her approach to Hell, she raised her head to look up at the warped sky. It still made her dizzy. All of it did. The space, the impossible sky. She felt sick, curling into a ball as if she could hide from the whole world if she made herself small enough. Maybe she should have stayed small.

The Masked Woman let out a pitiful sigh of laughter.

“I'm... dying?” The Masked Woman cocked her head. In another life, she would be amused. If the icy hand of dread were not gripping her spine, she would even laugh. She rolled her eyes, a genuine smile upon her face. “I suppose I don’t care for it.”

The skies are perpetually gray, a freezing drizzle falls ceaselessly, and it stinks of rot and shit. She means this literally -- the women who dump chamber pots into the streets. The butchers who throw half-gutted beasts outside their shops that the starving, snarling dogs fight over. The decaying teeth of the beggars as they screech and plead with you. The starving children with their distended bellies. The screaming from the streets, where the madwomen rot.

There’s no use recounting it.

The mask breaks of her face, falling into pieces and shattering against the ground. Revealing her face...

"I just wanted... to be pretty..."

Her shuddering breath matches the chilly region, her body matching that of the ice and winds that battled for dominance...

In her mind, she escapes into her own realm. Walking up a flight of stairs, slowly, step by step. Each one creaking against her foot. She attempts to open the door laid out at the end of the stairs, bloated from years of rain dripping through the shoddy ceiling.

Eventually budging it open, she steps inside.

The room is plain. At one time, it had been a well-decorated, respected place. The years have not been kind to the place. A single barber’s chair, the black leather of its seat and arms cracked and weathered. Cabinets, a chipped basin...that is all that remains. The owner stripped the place of anything of value, anything they could carry out...

"I'm home..."

And with that single thought formulating into a brief whisper that left her blue lips, the woman's last semblance of a soul was pulled from her body... her lifeless corpse watching as it descended into Hell...​