Time: Evening
Location: Castle --> Train Station
The castle halls blurred past her as Anastasia bolted, her bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor. The echoes of the guards’ shouts followed close behind. She didn’t care where she was going; she only knew she had to run, to move. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as the weight of her emotions pushed her forward. Her body burned with exertion, but her mind craved the sharpness of the adrenaline—the only thing keeping the suffocating thoughts at bay.
Bursting through the castle gates, she felt the cool night air whip against her skin. She barely registered the startled looks of the guards as she dashed past them, her dress billowing like a banner around her. Behind her, the guards scrambled as they shouted for reinforcements.
The city sprawled before her, dimly lit and alive with activity. Anastasia’s heart raced, her mind spinning with a singular goal. She sprinted down Edin Avenue toward Flora Road where a guard lunged for her, his hand brushing the fabric of her dress, but she twisted away, narrowly avoiding his grasp.
The guards barreled through the crowd, knocking over crates and eliciting a chorus of startled cries. Anastasia darted down the road, weaving between pedestrians and carriages, her chest heaving with exertion. A wagon laden with hay trundled past, heading in the direction of Clover Road. Her eyes lit up with a wild idea.
Running parallel to the wagon, she gauged its speed before leaping onto its side. Her fingers gripped the wooden frame tightly as she swung herself onto the top, landing with a soft thud in the hay. The startled driver turned to shout, “What in the—!” but she gave him a breathless grin before crawling to the far side and jumping off as the wagon rounded a corner.
She hit the ground running, her legs burning with the effort. The maneuver had bought her precious seconds, and the guards hesitated, momentarily losing sight of her. Anastasia tore up Clover Road, her path winding through quieter residential areas. She darted behind a row of hedges, crouching low as the guards’ footsteps thundered past.
Her reprieve was brief. The faint glow of Victoria Avenue beckoned her ahead, and she knew the train station wasn’t far now. Steeling herself, she emerged from her hiding spot and sprinted toward the main road. Her dress caught on a low fence, tearing slightly as she climbed over it, but she barely noticed. The thrill of the chase fueled her, drowning out her exhaustion and the ache in her limbs.
Victoria Avenue stretched wide and empty under the moonlight. Anastasia pushed herself harder, her breath ragged as the wooded path to the train station came into view. The guards’ shouts were growing fainter behind her. She allowed herself a fleeting smile, a burst of triumph sparking in her chest.
At last, she reached the station. The platform was deserted and eerily silent. The distant whistle of an approaching train echoed faintly through the night. Anastasia stood there, breathing heavily, her dress torn and her hair wild as the moonlight cast a pale glow over her.
Had she come here to take a train to nowhere? To run away? She could step aboard, take on a new identity, and vanish into the night—get off at a random stop where no one knew her name or her burdens. For a moment, the idea tempted her, filling her chest with a bittersweet ache.
But in the stillness, the silence pressed against her heavily. And with it came the pain. The pain she had spent the entire night trying to outrun.
The pain of knowing Darryn’s death was tied directly to her actions, to her recklessness, to her inability to think beyond the thrill of the moment. And worse, knowing there were others—like Riona—who blamed her too.
The pain of knowing her siblings would soon marry, move on, and no longer need her. The way her parents never really had. Would they one day forget her entirely, the way her father so easily had? Would she fade into the background, as invisible as she felt now?
The pain of the looming truth that her only purpose was to marry—to become a pawn in political games. To be sold off like a commodity to the highest bidder, her value measured not by her heart or her soul but by her name and the alliances it could secure.
And most of all, the pain of knowing that beyond that purpose, there was nothing else for her. No dreams. No meaning. No life of her own.
Her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps as she shut her eyes, fighting the tears that burned at the corners. But her legs moved on their own accord, carrying her forward. Her bare feet crunched against the gravel, the sound sharp and grounding in the quiet. She stepped onto the tracks, the cold steel biting against her skin as she stood there, arms outstretched, her chest heaving with exhaustion.
The train’s light pierced through the darkness, cutting a blazing path toward her. It grew brighter with every passing second, the ground trembling beneath her. The roar of the locomotive filled her ears, drowning out everything else. The chaos, the noise, the overwhelming weight of her thoughts—all of it disappeared in the face of the raw, electrifying power rushing toward her.
Anastasia closed her eyes and tilted her head back, the wind whipping around her, tugging at her dress and hair. The rush washed over her like a tidal wave, stripping away the pain, the guilt, the fear.
The ground beneath her began to tremble, the faint vibration growing stronger with each passing second. Anastasia’s lips curled into a small, trembling smile. She closed her eyes, the rush of adrenaline silencing the chaos in her mind. The roar of the oncoming train grew louder, the wind whipping her hair wildly around her face.
For the first time, she felt completely free.
She stretched her arms out as if to welcome the incoming train, despite the rising sound of screams and protests of gathering onlookers. The ground beneath her began to tremble harder, the vibration shaking her bones. The sound of the train was deafening now, and yet, in the face of its unstoppable momentum, she found clarity.
I can control my destiny... It's this easy, huh?
Inside the train, the conductor slammed his fist on the horn. The sound hit her like a physical force, but Anastasia didn’t flinch. Her wild, glassy eyes locked onto the light hurtling toward her.
“Get off the tracks!” the conductor yelled, his voice muffled by the relentless screech of the train’s wheels. He yanked the whistle cord again and again, the horn wailing in frantic, desperate bursts.
Behind her, guards and onlookers screamed, their voices blending with the cacophony of the train. A woman on the platform clutched her child, shielding their eyes, while others shouted at her to move. The chaos swirled around Anastasia, but she remained frozen, her mind strangely calm.
Peasants and onlookers had gathered near the platform, their faces pale with horror. A woman clutched her child close, shielding their eyes, while a man shouted angrily at guards to “do something!” The crowd was growing, the fear and chaos palpable.
Anastasia remained rooted to the spot, her head tilting down as she opened her eyes to look at the train hurtling toward her. At the last possible moment, she stepped back, off the tracks, her feet hitting the gravel just as the train roared past. The force of it swept her hair back, but her expression was calm—eerily so.
The guards rushed to her, panting, but they hesitated when they saw her face. She stood tall, her posture regal, her gaze sharp and unwavering. The onlookers stared at her in stunned silence, their murmurs dying away.
And then, Anastasia giggled.
It was soft at first, a breathless sound that bubbled from her lips. The guards froze, exchanging uneasy glances as the giggle grew into a laugh—a genuine, almost childlike laugh that seemed out of place amidst the chaos. She pressed a hand to her mouth, steadying herself before she spoke. “I’m sorry,” she began, her voice lilting with amusement as her gaze swept over the onlookers. “You all must think I’ve gone mad.”
Her laughter faded finally as she addressed them a little more seriously, “But I haven’t. For the first time in my life, I’ve finally figured it out.” Anastasia straightened, her voice growing steadier. “ You know... I am not a fake person and a lot of people keep telling me I am." She shook her head with a sad smile, "I was just… trying to choose happiness, in whatever way I could.”
The crowd exchanged confused glances, but Anastasia wasn’t speaking for them. She was speaking for herself.
“And now I realize,” she continued, her voice growing stronger, “if I can choose happiness... If I can choose to stay in Sorian or go somewhere else...Even live or die... Then of course I can choose my own purpose too. I don't know why I expected one to be laid out in my lap. Kinda silly of me... ”
The guards looked at her, dumbfounded, their hands hovering as if unsure whether to reach for her or not. The onlookers stared, their confusion and awe mingling.
“I don’t know where I’ll go from here. But for the first time, I know I can choose, no matter how many other people tell me that I can't.” And with that, she sank to her knees in the grass.