She Fell Weakly To Her Knees In Front Of The Elder, Losing Breath Due To Her Run. Tears Are Streaming

She fell weakly to her knees in front of the elder, losing breath due to her run. Tears are streaming down her face, mixing with the blood of a dragon. The pure white snow crunched beneath her armor, and the blood stained it a deep crimson.

“I-I’m sorry! Please! It was an a-accident! Please! I-I swear i-it was an accident!” She begs and cries. But the cries meant nothing to the man. She swallows her guilt, her cries only sounding more desperate.

The elder looked down upon her bloody figure, seeing nothing but a mischievous elf with the dirty sins of a hundred fallen souls, and the recklessness of a teenage human.

“You have disappointed me, young lady.” He grumbles, his voice deep and raspy, as if he spent his young days with a hoarse cough.

“Please! It was an accident! I beg for your understanding! H-he threatened me!” She whined and pleaded.

The elder man sighed in disapproval. “You always have an excuse, little one. You are.. You are no longer worthy.” He finishes hesitantly, turning around and retreating back into his temple made of the purest stone and gold, with waterfalls on either side of the temple. Leaving poor Veronica, in her bloody metal armor, all alone in the bitter winter. The wind whacked against her with merciless howls, soon making her shiver. Once she hears the slam of the doors to the temple, she falls into the snow. Leaving her helpless and alone.

Until she hears the vibrating ground behind her. Baring with the burden of an orc army, livid and hunting down the girl. And they found her small, crumpled form in the small valley.

The elder stepped forward slowly. In one hand, his crooked staff, in the other, the book of wisdom. “Hunters do not harvest. Harvesters do not heal. Healers do not hunt. You have broken the great tradition. Explain yourself.”