The Villainess's Journey To Heroism

Prologue

The moon, a pale reflection of the sun's light, cast an ethereal glow on Erza and Hina, two redheads bound by a shared destiny.

"Hina," Erza whimpered, her voice choked with emotion as she cradled Hina in her arms.

"Erza," Hina whispered back, her voice weak, her cheek resting against Erza's.

Hina's hands were stained crimson, her own mouth a testament to the violence that had unfolded. Blood seeped from the corner of her lips, a stark contrast against her pale skin.

Erza held Hina as tightly as she could, her own body trembling with a mixture of grief and fear. "You're getting cold, Natsu. Help, she's getting colder," she pleaded, her voice breaking.

Natsu and Gray stood frozen, their faces etched with a mixture of shock and helplessness. They had witnessed the brutal fight, the chaos, the bloodshed, but they were powerless to stop it.

Hina, her gaze fixed on the star-strewn sky, offered a faint smile. A meteor shower, a celestial display of light and wonder, danced across the canvas of the night.

"Hi-Hina, you're v-vanishing," Erza cried, her voice filled with despair.

"Erza...I've killed many lives before, just out of rage," Hina confessed, her voice barely a whisper. "This seems impossible, yet...I want to ask...can you ever forgive me?"

Erza didn't answer. She simply tightened her grip on Hina, desperate to hold onto her, to prevent her from fading away.

"If ever I'm given a second chance," Hina thought, her voice a silent prayer, "I would want to be like her, a brave, kind, and strong one. Someone who is calm and makes good decisions in life. Someone who turns tragedies and failures into lessons. I want to be just like her, Erza. If I am given another chance, I promise to be a sister she can be proud of."

Hina's consciousness began to slip away, her grip on reality loosening as Erza's voice faded into a distant echo.

"Hina," a voice, unfamiliar yet soothing, broke through the darkness.

Hina opened her eyes, her vision blurry, to see a man and a child. The child, no more than eight years old, has arms clung around him.

Hina tried to speak, but her voice failed her. It was as if she had forgotten how.

"Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you," the man said, his voice calm and gentle. He reached out and gently stroked Hina's hair. "Poor child, left in a forest all alone. Don't worry, you're safe here with us."

He extended his hand towards the child, and she slowly reached out, her small hand meeting his.