Sophie’s legs gave up and she fell on her knees, tears bursting out of her eyes. The other woman lacked the heart to pressure her and fell, squeezing Sophie into a tight embrace. Then she screamed so loudly that the black trees trembled; a moan of pure excruciating pain she could not endure any longer; a roaring demand for the gods to bring Aramina back; the ear-splitting sound of sadness. She had lost her soul to something wicked; something that was not moral, and craved for blood.

After watching the heartbreaking scene, Saskia stopped crying. She knew Sophie did not mean what she had said, she was just broken into pieces. Saskia stayed up, allowing Sophie and Winnie to have that moment together without interfering. Soon after, Winnie also got up, but Sophie stayed there. They stared at their feet, mourning in absolute silence not even glancing at the poor soul in the ground.

There were no more houses or streets, not even light to be found. What was left were tall trees — cedars — in every direction, adding to the suffocating effect they produced on those around. The humid climate gave them chills, and the smell of putrid flesh took over their fragile noses. Then, they noticed they were in the middle of a terrifying glade.

Sophie Riviere looked up. Her arms felt weighed, her knees, nude against the dirt, were bleeding, and we could see life leaving her glassy marine eyes as she gazed at the full moon. It was red. Identical to a polished ruby, maybe more similar to blood. Perhaps a lunar eclipse. She would have found it beautiful if not for the circumstances they encountered themselves in.

To intensify their grief, a drop of rain descended slowly through Sophie's cheek before a downpour began, covering them in blood, sweat and tears; a majestic cinematographic scene of the vicious scheme from the gods above.

They stood there, unfazed, letting the heavy rain clean their bodies in a vain wish to take away their feelings and sins, too.

One last shout. A cry from the bottom of the throat so reverberant it could be heard loud and clear despite the rain. The cedars shook their leaves, the wind blew harder, and the rain intensified. It was a cry for help, an unspoken wish for death, and a feeling so strong that nature understood it. Sophie's eyes were dry. There was nothing else to cry for.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it began. Sophie did not move, not even trying to look at her friends. Her eyes kept paying close attention to the blood moon in the sky. As for the others, their expressions harden as they look at each other, not recognising the ones staring back.

“Winnie?” a girl with eccentric blue hair loose at the back but tied in two medium braids in front, skin as white as snow, and cat-like golden eyes looked confused. “Is that… you?”

“Sas, don’t be ridiculous, we can still recognise each other. Our facial features are the same, and so is our skin colour,” Winnie slid her shoulder-length hair to the front to see it. “Purple. Could be worse.”

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“At least now you can say you have green eyes,” Saskia smiled insincerely, looking at Winnie. “And a dress.”

The girl with shoulder-length lilac hair with bangs, olive skin, and pale green eyes looked down to find what Saskia was referring to: they were all wearing the same plain white dress and cloak. Her face showed repulsion as she examined it, attentively. The dress was about ten centimetres shorter than knee length, fitted around the chest and wide from the waist to the hem. In contrast, the white cloak was long, but would not touch the ground even if they ran. It was layered and had lace patterns around the hems of each of them, it was also able to hide the dress completely using a flower brooch whose colour was different for each of them. Winnie quickly covered herself in the cloak. She had a brooch in a purple shade much stronger than her hair, Saskia’s was light blue, and Sophie had a teal brooch.

After noticing Sophie’s brooch, they slowly raised their gaze to the person herself. She was in the same position: sitting on her heels with her injured knees on the muddy dirt, her arms with no strength alongside her body, and her head facing the moon. She was strategically placed in the centre of the clearing like a sad statue of a heroine who lost everything. Her long and wavy hair used to be a gorgeous shade of brown, and Aramina would always say her eyes reminded her of caramel or honey but those were long gone. Instead, her hair and eyes acquired a saturated and tragic ocean colour. Despite the efforts of whoever changed them to make her marine eyes stand out, she was too depressed for them to look superb alone. Nevertheless, there was undoubtedly something sublime about the whole composition of her appearance, especially those pitiful eyes.

Suddenly, the bushed made a slight sound that resonated throughout the woods, followed by a piercing howl.

“We shouldn’t stay here,” Winnie said. “They might come after us.”

Sophie Riviere stood up before the others' inquisitive gaze. As if they were invisible, she slowly walked away, the ground cutting her bare feet like sharp needles. Winnie ran after her, committing to harm her feet like Sophie did. It was not enough that they had to wear tiny dresses in Autumn; they had to stand with their feet unprotected, too. They could tell the gods were deviant, yet not once suffered from the cold. Saskia quietly followed them from behind.

They walked for hours with no intention of stopping. They were tired, drained even, their frail feet covered in blood, and nothing to be seen except for trees. The disgraceful cedars never once left the view, forever engraving themselves in their minds: no birds, no rabbits, not even an insect. They walked alone.

Saskia stopped and squinted her eyes, and Winnie glanced back in doubt. She tried to clean her view using her hands to rub her eyes once or twice.

“There’s a cottage,” she said calmly. “Within the woods.”

“We are within the woods,” mocked Winnie, rolling her eyes.

“There,” Saskia pointed to where the cottage allegedly was.

To Winnie’s surprise, there was really a tiny wooden house near a lake in the place she was showing. It was a miracle no one noticed except for Saskia. Sophie did not react, as if she was somewhat expecting it.

Little by little they stepped closer to the house, and the ground felt muddier as they did. They could see it clearly now: it was built close to a small murky lake, its walls made of cedar wood covered by ivy, the windows were broken and dark, and every flower next to it was as dry as sand.