Flawed Creation

Morgan opened her eyes in the darkness. She had fallen asleep while sitting on the cold stone floor, her back leaning against a slab of crumbling stone. The wind was howling as it passed through the ruins of the main keep, and pale moonlight poured through the gaping holes of its partially collapsed dome. 

Taking a deep breath, she leaned on her sword and stood up. 

Her vermilion cloak had turned to tatters, and her black armor was broken and battered. Dismissing both Memories to give them some time to mend themselves, Morgan felt a cold wind caress her skin gently. It was a pleasant feeling, especially after days spent in frenetic fighting.

Her black tunic fluttered slightly, revealing how littered it was with tears, most of them crusted by blood. 

She sighed and listened to the sounds of the ruined castle, trying to evaluate if there were any immediate threats.