This is a solitary pilgrimage on the precipice of fate, a wordless confrontation between replica and original within the icy abyss of the mirror. The relentless torrent of Pamish carries two destined intersecting trajectories, ultimately colliding in the eternal void, creating the echoes of a poignant elegy.

She had sunk into an eternal slumber in the cradle of the deep sea, her consciousness dissolving in its lightless embrace. Yet, the icy tide pushed her back to the desolate shore. Struggling out from the murky depths, she found not rebirth, but a deeper loss. Her fingertips no longer touched warm flesh, and the blood coursing through her body no longer flowed bright red. She was no longer human.

who I am?

Within this inhuman shell, fragments of memories belonging to "Grey Crow Commander" surge, as clear as yesterday, yet as distant as a dream from another world. Is she a clone of the fallen star?