The Church of Favonius nun who was the least faithful was evaluating her life decisions after meeting a certain annoying man.     

As soon as she was born into this world, she felt the icy chill of snow.     

The northern mountains were permanently covered in snow, and there were very few flowers. The sky appeared to be threatening hail, and the winter chill permeated even the heaviest clothing that could be brought from the south.     

A crying infant with no prior knowledge or experience of the world clung to her mother's arms.     

Her tears landed on her mother's clothing, but neither warmed the woman nor helped her escape the icy world.     

The frostbite on her mother's fingers worsened and spread, eventually claiming her life.     

The mother accepted her fate as she lay immobile with her child clutched tightly to her bosom. She had given up on a better future for herself, but she still wished to provide her child with a glimmer of comfort.     

She prayed to the Archon she believed in, pleading with her to take pity upon her passing and grant her daughter the opportunity to survive.     

'Survive. That's all I ask of you...'     

The request was fulfilled, and a group of people appeared out of nowhere as the village burned around them.     

The heroes did not wear shining armor or wield swords, as depicted in the stories recounted to children, nor did they use magical weapons. In fact, they appeared more like commoners or barbarians...a band of bandits.     

They wore plain, blood-stained garments, and their faces were swollen with bruises and scrapes.     

They carried crude weapons such as spears and axes, and each appeared weary and gloomy.     

"Boss, we took what we could. I think we should leave before we attract monsters."     

"Indeed."     

"No, wait, Boss! I see some movement!"     

One of the bandits observed the corpse of the mother who was huddled over with her wailing infant and aimed his spear at her.     

"Someone is still alive, Boss!"     

Another bandit, a man they dubbed "the Boss", spotted what he was pointing at and looked in that direction.      

"Huh? What are you referring to? Isn't that just a dead woman?"     

The first man carried on. "A child is laying there! Look closely! What should we do with it?"     

"That one's too young." said the boss. "Let's leave it alone. Let the cold do it's bidding."     

"...Are ya sure, Boss? What if it survives and returns to exact vengeance? I read a similar story in a book before!"     

"..."     

The leader returned his attention to the mother's corpse.     

Frostbite was slowly consuming the body, and the infant would soon perish as well.     

"...I'm sure. This woman's soul has already entered the afterlife, leaving behind the runt... On second thought, I will handle this myself."     

After removing his cloak, which concealed his armor, he picked up the infant.     

"B-Boss? Are you sure?"     

"But, that's..."     

"It's just another mouth to feed! We can barely handle ourselves!"     

His comrades stared at him in disbelief, but the Boss responded to them with a serious expression on his face.     

"I was moved by the mother's decision to sacrifice her life for her own child."     

As he drew the girl closer to his face, she began to cry.     

"Shhh, shh...it is fate that you've survived this ordeal. You're one of us now, whether you like it or not."     

The newborn stopped weeping and gazed at him with tear-filled eyes.     

"A name is not important, but you will earn it with time."     

The other bandits were shocked as their vicious leader embraced the infant as though she were his own.     

"Let's get going!"     

The bandits then fled the village without a second glance.     

They were the cause of the village's destruction, and it was evident they were to blame...but they were also the reason the child had survived.     

As the crimson flames disappeared into the night sky, they were able to find comfort in one another's company.     

Raised by those crooks, the girl learned how to fight, sometimes thieving, other times doing odd jobs for the crew.     

In exchange for the food she stole, they offered to train her in the art of battle, allowing her to become stronger than anyone her age.     

She had no experience with love or affection, but she had discovered her purpose in life.     

When she reached the appropriate age, she joined the bandits in their raids. They taught her all they knew, including how to fight, kill, and most importantly, survive.     

Rosaria's youth resembled Mondstadt's sunset; it was blood-red from horizon to horizon and so brief that night had descended before she had a chance to appreciate the beauty.     

This was the only life she knew, and she couldn't imagine anything different.     

She was their servant and tool, a crook who was still a child.     

She had seen so much violence, and she had experienced so many hardships, that she slowly lost her own feelings.     

The bandits had taught her to value her life and to not fear the cold, but embrace it.     

Those who smiled were regarded as weak, and those who showed emotion were seen as fools.     

Only the cold and calculative types survived the harsh environment.     

She adhered to the bandit code, and the crew both feared and respected her to a certain point. She fought against both enemies and allies, and her childhood was a perpetual struggle for survival against starvation and cold.     

Her body and mind eventually toughened, and she became the ideal warrior.     

Once a defenseless youngster, the girl has matured into a brave warrior.     

Until one day, her life changed forever.     

***     

Things were getting desperate for the bandit gang — people were starving and the food supplies were dwindling.     

Never able to eat her fill, Rosaria was driven by hunger to flee into the freezing wind rather than continue another second with the hard labor she was forced to endure.     

One of the elders of the gang, the boss who retired, pursued her and brought her back.     

He was the very person who had taken her from the village of her birth, and the one who had taught her how to kill.     

"To flee is to become a traitor, and traitors can only win their freedom through combat triumph!"     

The old bandit tossed Rosaria a worn-out dagger.     

"Well, come on then! Kill me, and you can leave this place. You won't gain the respect unless you truly prove yourself!"     

"...Kill you?"     

The old bandit chuckled at her, but she responded with a blank expression.     

"What, you're afraid of fighting your own kind? I'm long in the tooth now, while you've got youth on your side. You can do this, can't ya?"     

"..."     

Rosaria's face contorted with hesitation and unwillingness, but the elderly man would not let her off the hook.     

"Come on! I know you can fight better than any of us, so get moving!" He'd long drawn out his axe and was waiting for her.     

"You are...my father...I simply cannot..." Her voice was trembling, as if the cold air was somehow cutting straight through her skin.     

The boss snorted. "Your father? There is no one like that! You knew it all along, didn't you? I was the one who raided your village and killed everyone including your parents, right?!"     

"..."     

Rosaria didn't respond.     

"If you kill me, you'll finally have your revenge! Come on, do it!"     

He drew his axe to attack, but instead of confronting the man who ruined her life, Rosaria began to flee.     

The old man however, had expected this outcome and quickly blocked her path with his weapon.     

"Run away? You intend to flee from me? That's really amazing! Rose, I suppose you're a failure after all!"     

Rosaria didn't say a word and tried running away.     

The old bandit had a malicious grin on his face.     

"Don't tell me...you're going to let me kill you? Aren't you going to survive?"     

As the words spilled out of his lips, the boss struck Rosaria's shoulder with his axe.     

By repeated use, the axe had been worn down and sharpened to a razor's edge. It sliced deeply into her flesh, causing her to scream in anguish as blood gushed forth.     

"S-Stop!" she screamed at the old bloke.     

The bandit, who'd lost his sense of humanity after years spent in this unforgiving world, simply looked at her and chuckled.     

"I wish I could, but I can't," he answered with a smile before adding, "You should know. That's how it goes around here." He then raised the axe above his head and brought it down with a downward swing.     

Despite being wounded, Rosaria was able to dodge the strike before it fell on top of her.     

She rolled out of the path and instinctively hurled the dagger at the old man.     

The dagger travelled through the air, and hit him square in the neck.     

The bandit soon dropped to the ground with a loud thud.     

Rosaria's survival instinct, honed through years of training, compelled her to do something she did not want to do: fight back against her only family.     

Blood spurted out of the bandit's neck, a fatal injury caused by the girl's blade.     

"Gah...ugh...just as I taught you...well done...'     

Her body shaking, Rosaria quickly ran over to her father's side and laid him down gently.     

"Father!"     

She cradled his head and brushed back his hair.     

"You...with your...nonsense...do what you do best...and survive."     

As he spoke, light flickered in his eyes, and his last breath escaped his lungs.     

Consequently, he, like Rosaria's biological mother, sacrificed his life so that she could lead a better one.     

"I...I...don't understand...why did you do that..."     

Rosaria looked at her father's dying form, and tears streamed down her cheeks.     

She had a feeling that the old man was trying to apologize, but he wasn't able to say it.     

"Why...why is the snow so warm?"     

Instantaneously, her chilly ambition was born, and a pale blue amulet materialized in her hand, enveloping her body in pure coldness.      

A Vision.     

No one thought that she would be able to kill him — and yet, the old lion would indeed fall by the newborn cub's claws.     

Thus did the bandits lose an old member and welcomed a new one that very night.     

The bandits were reluctant to accept Rosaria at first since she had slain one of their own respected elders, but they quickly had a change of heart after seeing the Vision in her hand.     

A God's gift. Only for chosen one's. There was no mistake.     

Surely, a Vision wielder had to be far stronger than some old coot who was about to kick the bucket, right? And she ate less, to boot... They could save some food this way.     

In the meantime, a doubt crept into Rosaria's frozen heart:     

'Did he truly let me replace him on purpose? ...Could a false father have harbored genuine affection for a child he stole so arbitrarily after he burned my village down? So much so to give up his life for my well-being?'     

She would never be able to answer that question.     

After burying the old bandit next to the ashes of her old village, Rosaria continued living alongside the bandits.     

She was now referred to as the Rose with Thorns, a sign of her intimidating strength.     

Her abilities and strength were unparalleled among the bandits, and the majority of those who encountered her dreaded her.     

Until one day, when the Knights of Favonius attacked them out of fear for a bandit gang that had been growing control over the land, her life was once again irrevocably altered.     

The knights crushed the bandit hideout, slaying everyone in their path, except for Rosaria.     

Being the only person left alive once more, she was confronting a man named Varka whom she couldn't even put a scratch onto no matter how much she tried.     

"Enough is enough. Give up."     

As the bandit camp's youngest member, Rosaria was deemed to have a shot at redemption.     

"Stop resisting and come with us. I see your potential. You don't belong in this environment."     

The man known as Grand Master Varka brought her to Mondstadt.     

He recommended her to visit the Cathedral and be purified by the light of their Archon, Barbatos, with the sincere hope that she would one day fit in.      

"You still have the opportunity to change your fate and lead a regular life. Mondstadt is the city of Freedom, and it's perfect for someone like you. A broken person."     

"..."     

But Varka had not counted on Rosaria constantly skipping classes and dodging hymnals, and being a troublemaker.     

She would rather hunt in the wild than settled into a life of dutiful service as a sister. As far as she was concerned, the golden sunlight was not so much cleansing as blinding.     

For Rosaria had long since come to understand that she was a child of the moonlight, and it was inevitable that she would someday return to the embrace of darkness.     

Her life would never be normal.