The room went quiet, there was no sound or motion that could be felt anywhere inside this place, the only thing that was present in this moment was complete and the freezing cold. A cold that was as low as an Arctic tundra. And with that, a metal hand with what appears to to be a set of talons was climbing from out of a massive lump of snow, As the claws seeped into the ground, causing some of the snow to melt away and evaporate, clearing a part of the path before another pair of metallic talons latched onto the ledge before making their way up to the top of mountain

Treading through the path was a masked woman dawning a bird like cloak, armored plating underneath and a crest in the shape of a rose

The woman in question was lugging around a chained weapons, tightly wrapped around her wrists her wrists and drenched in a crimson colored fluid,flowing down from the sharp ends of this tool, fouled by the eerie chants of ravenous spirits, forever entombed in these blades, all of them presumably delivering a message to the warrior when moves through a worn out village, it appeared that this town must have suffered from an attack a few days earlier, possibly due to rouge monsters or a band of barbarians, both of which of which have roaming around this land more frequently.

The villagers inhabiting this place would have began to notice the bird masked individual passing by them, causing her to be met with several mixed reactions from the townspeople, some were filled with feelings hope while others believed that her presence her was spelling doom for every one involved

"Is she....Is she one of the reapers? Is she here to free us?" One man asked as he was looking in the direction of the vizard, sounding a bit worried and unsure about to feel about her presence

"No! Look at those blades, That woman is cursed! She's no better than those monsters out there, Only a demon would carry a weapon like those. A woman cried, noting that something about the weapons that this woman was carrying around had an usual aura to them, almost as if those chained blades were the mark of a curse. Citing that a demon would be the one carrying the weapon, but not much from her appearance gave the impression that she was demon, but the figure have a bit of wear and tear was the sign that at the very least, she was not to be trifled with, not if it meant someone truly had it coming to them

The townsfolk only began to grow more weary of her appearance before a hooded individual, taking on the appearance of a cat started walking towards the weakened warrior

Hooded Cat: The gods should be more than pleased with today's sacrifice, You have done well. Please let me help you, you look like could use some right about now

He answered as he started wrapping his arm around the masked woman as he was escorting into a nearby shed to get her patched up, The vizard didn't make answer but looked towards the hooded feline with a sense of sincerity, considering that at this moment he seemed to be one of the only few people hear that wasn't giving her an resentment or feared her

(For context, most of this and several parts of the next few scenarios take place this memory/ dreamscape and occasionally perspectives midway between here and the other characters)

( Side Note, In the present time of events, Zephyr (The Flaming Wendigo) had killed Serena and is now holding her soul captive inside of an orb, so part of this taking place inside of it)