It lies on the cold grounds of the dreary underground. Rin is by its side for a long time, until the tears run dry and there are no emotions left.
Blank, vacant and numb, her mind drifts into nothingness. She refuses to feel, recognise her current position or allow the suspension of her dissociation.
But it is the sound of hooves that breaks her reverie, perhaps not out of her own willpower, but by an unseen force.
In the blackness of the dark tunnel, an immense figure casts an unsettling shadow against the jagged walls of the melancholic dungeon.
Rin is not perturbed. Emotional pain can only affect her so much before it reaches a limit and levels off.
Under the illumination of dripping candles, the figure materialises into the outline of an enormous black horse. She has met this creature before, the same one on Cascades Mountain. Only this time, it does not approach warily, but with grace and purpose.
On ground, the feeble sounds of the white stallion reverberates woefully across their space, as if the pain it feels is not physical, but a manifestation of poignancy and sentimentality.
Then, it disperses into a billion particles and vanishes in an innocuous display of lights.
"Life," Rin utters.
Instantly, she feels considerably lighter.
When Rin turns her gaze, the black horse is surveying her. It is in that moment that she understands.
"I am going to make use of time," she whispers, "I need you."
The horse stares, but she understands it. Not through words, but through a strange connection she call feelings.
"I won't defy it anymore," she continues softly.
Then, it disperses into the air and returns when time allows.
x
The misery hurts. It is not literal pain, but a seething irreparable affliction that originates somewhere deep within her empty heart. Except, the heavy feeling of despair is etched with such monumental depth, it has become a perennial part of her soul.
Rin walks past the dreary coldness that is the underground dungeons. The flickering glow of candles does nothing to quell the unseeing darkness that attaches itself to these walls.
But her watch is fixated on the end room. For seventeen years, this place has been her refuge, her shelter and her solitude.
Her room is dainty, dark and awfully cold.
She rummages through her drawers, but she does not know what she is supposed to be searching for.
Her fingers catch the feeling of wooden beads and she extracts the incongruous colours that are purple, orange and an odd shade of blue and brown. The bracelet is old and dusty despite having sat in her drawer for so long.
She does not remember how she got this.
It does not look like anything special, yet she finds it captivating.
To this day, she still does not understand why she is so solicitous and possessive of such a strange and ugly looking ornament.