The wind whips around the girl as she heads for the cliffs, her eyes fixed firmly on the ground in front of her. Her red-gold hair is tossed wildly by the storm, and she brings one hand in front of her face, shielding her from the gale. At the top of the steep path she pauses, staring down at the crashing, rolling, inexorable pounding ocean below, the iron grey colour reflecting the dark sky above.

“Free me,” she whispers, staring at the powerful scenery, as the screaming maelstrom builds to its climax around her, whirling, cracking, shattering, “I want to be- free...”

The boy turned away from the mirror. The image of the girl, standing on the top of the cliffs with her coat billowing around her, stayed on the smooth surface for a moment, before seeming to almost implode in on itself and vanishing.

“I’m coming, Cassa,” he whispered, passing a tired hand in front of his eyes, “I’m coming. Things will be different, I promise.”