She is falling.

The wind passes through her dissolving body,
as though everything were about to fade into extinction.

The hand reaching upward
is a silent cry from the depths of the soul—

toward the light,
toward the power that once pulled her back from death.

She is falling.

The wind passes through her body as it disintegrates, as though everything were on the verge of disappearing.

Her hand, reaching towards the sky, is a silent cry rising from the depths of her soul.

A call towards the light, towards the force that once pulled her back from the brink of death.

She continues to fall into the depths of the valley.

Yet her gaze remains fixed, unwavering, in one single direction.

Even though this ember is almost extinguished, it has never stopped burning.

As if, in the very heart of the storm, it were gathering its strength to burn once more.
--
Elle tombe.

Le vent traverse son corps qui se désagrège, comme si tout était sur le point de disparaître.

Sa main tendue vers le ciel est un cri silencieux venu du plus profond de son âme.

Un appel vers la lumière, vers cette force qui l’a autrefois arrachée à la mort.

Elle continue de tomber au fond de la vallée.

Pourtant, son regard reste fixé, sans jamais vaciller, dans une seule direction.

Même si cette braise est presque éteinte, elle n’a jamais cessé de brûler.

Comme si, au cœur même de la tempête, elle rassemblait ses forces pour brûler à nouveau.