Every day it got worse. Every day was darker than the day before. Every day was a constant struggle, she was lucky to have even a few minutes rest before her sword was drawn, prepared to thrust into the form of yet another enemy. Every day pushed her further towards the cliff that marked the end of her sanity. Every day made her want to give up. But she didn't. She never would. At first, she stayed for Rose. And she fought only for Rose, for her liberator. Yet soon, she found it to be more. It was no longer about Rose, but for the Earth itself. It was for winning over what she had fought through death itself for. Yes, every day was a terrible, pain filled struggle, but it was worth every reform, worth every blade through her chest, and worth every eternal, stinging scar. It was worth everything she had been through to win the war, to win the Earth. She won the war, she won her freedom, she won her rights, and she won her choices. She could do whatever she wanted, and it was all because she had fought. She had no regrets.