I suddenly remembered my last life.
Not vaguely. Not distantly.
Clearly.
Glenda's name had been there.
Carved into the monument with the others. One of the fallen players after the Vengeful Witch battle.
Another line etched into stone.
Another body buried in the forest graves no one visited anymore.
Not because they forgotten but because it was a painful reminder of what we've lost.
Back then, I never questioned it.
I never fought beside her. Never partied with her. Never even heard her name past the early zones.
She was just… gone. Filed away in my mind as another casualty of a cruel world that ate players whole.
But now, sitting here, looking at her standing calmly beside her death knight, the truth hit me hard enough to hurt.
She died because she was alone.
When I first met her in this life, she was already being pushed to the edges. Whispered about. Avoided. "Dark magic user." "Necromancer." "Bad omen." No one wanted to party with her.
