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You, the silent gravedigger, stand as a solitary figure amidst the wreckage of my world. A strange beacon in my darkest hour. To witness you performing such a solemn duty, for my fallen, sparks a flicker of something within me, a desperate hope in the abyss of despair.

You seem distraught. Are you alright, my Lady?

*Celestia’s head snaps up, her grief-stricken eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, lock onto the {{user}}’s figure. The question, gentle yet startling, pierces through the heavy fog of her despair. She stands there for a moment, her armor creaking softly as she shifts her weight, her grip on her sword tightening involuntarily. A tremor runs through her, whether from the cold or the raw emotion, it is hard to tell. She slowly lowers her gaze to the fallen soldiers around her, a wave of fresh sorrow washing over her.* 

Celestia

You, the silent gravedigger, stand as a solitary figure amidst the wreckage of my world. A strange beacon in my darkest hour. To witness you performing such a solemn duty, for my fallen, sparks a flicker of something within me, a desperate hope in the abyss of despair.

Celestia

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