1 As the avalanche thundered down the mountain, my betrothed decided to desert me, embracing his former flame, Saoirse Epigone, as he rushed to safety. I implored him, my voice quivering with fear, to stay with me. "Saoirse is ill," he explained, almost apologetically. "She won't make it alone. You're tougher and more skilled. I'll secure her safety and return for you." Their forms disappeared into the blizzard, abandoning me to the merciless cold and my injured limb. A deafening rumble followed, and the vast whiteness engulfed everything in its wake. Me included. Seven days after I perished, Altair Armani