Prologue: War Makes People Strange
War makes people strange. That is what I believe. At least, that was how it seemed with nearly everyone I had ever known. I do not claim it as an iron law—only a conclusion drawn from my own long experience. Even so, the idea never felt especially wrong.
After all, I had spent half my life planted on the battlefield, and now I too was slowly twisting into something strange. I was living proof of my own theory.
Perhaps my mind had finally broken and I was lost in some waking dream. Neither body nor thoughts felt anchored in reality anymore. Even after I had been remade into this frail young girl’s body, some part of me still ached for the war to resume. The fighting had ended, yet I remained lashed to that blood-soaked ground. In the end, was I any different from the rest of them?
The war was over.
But my body still hungered for the fight.