The Realm of the Light Born was a masterpiece of divine radiance, a place where clouds shimmered like liquid pearls, suspended in an endless horizon of golden light. Diamonds and jewels floated weightlessly in the air, their forms refracting the light into an infinite spectrum of colors that danced across the sky. The ground—if it could even be called that—was formed of translucent crystal, pulsing faintly beneath every step, as though the realm itself was alive. The air was warm, suffused with a serene hum, a melody of creation that resonated in the soul of anyone who stood in its presence.
At the center of this radiant expanse, atop a throne carved from a single, massive ruby that seemed to glow from within, sat the All Mother of the Lysfødt. Her form was a being of pure, unblemished light, her body a silhouette of brilliance that shimmered with divine energy. She wore a gown that was an impossible mix of rubies and radiance, the gems embedded in the fabric glowing faintly with a crimson hue, as if they carried the blood of the cosmos itself. Her face was hidden behind a white veil, so sheer it seemed woven from the essence of stars, but her presence was so overwhelming it felt as though her gaze pierced through all barriers. Suspended above her head was a massive, intricate halo, formed of dazzling jewels that spun slowly, radiating a soft hum of power. Her wings, crafted from the same pure radiance as her body, spread impossibly wide, their edges sparkling as if dusted with diamond shards.
Around her stood the Lysfødt, her chosen children of light. They were similar in form but smaller, their bodies glowing with a softer intensity. Each Lysfødt wielded weapons made of radiant energy—spears, swords, and shields that glimmered with a divine purpose. They moved with grace, their forms flickering like flames, silently observing the scene before them.
Standing before the All Mother was Orin, the Dragon God of Blood. His form was immense, towering even in his humanoid shape. His crimson, scaled skin glistened like polished rubies, veins of darker red running across his body like living rivers of molten blood. His face was sharp and angular, his glowing yellow eyes betraying a deep wisdom that he tried to amplify with every word and motion. Massive curved horns jutted from his head, and his back was adorned with a pair of blood-soaked, leathery wings that dripped faint particles of crimson light. His hands were clawed, and his body was wrapped in ceremonial draconic armor, jagged and ancient, as though forged in the heart of a dying star. Orin carried himself with the air of an elder dragon, his deep, gravelly voice laced with a forced wisdom he hoped would make him appear as serious as the gods surrounding him.
But even in his grandeur, the sheer brilliance of the All Mother made him seem small.
They stood in silence, the weight of the moment palpable. The All Mother's wings shifted slightly, their radiance intensifying as her glowing eyes burned behind her veil. Orin shifted uncomfortably, his claws curling into fists. He hated the silence. He hated how her presence dwarfed his own.
Finally, Orin opened his mouth to speak, his gravelly voice rumbling with a forced authority. "I—"
Before the first word could truly leave his lips, one of the Lysfødt moved. It was instantaneous, a blur of radiant motion that left behind a streak of golden light. In less than a heartbeat, the being was upon Orin, wielding an otherworldly weapon—a blade shaped like a long, jagged shard of diamond. Its edges were serrated with smaller crystal teeth, and its hilt was adorned with a radiant core that pulsed with every movement. The weapon gleamed with a light so sharp it seemed to cut the air itself as it thrust toward Orin's chest.
But Orin did not flinch. His clawed finger shot up with blinding speed, stopping the blade's tip just before it pierced his flesh. The diamond shard trembled against his strength, its radiant energy crackling and sparking as Orin's blood-red finger held it at bay.
The chamber hummed with tension. The Lysfødt around the throne shifted slightly, their forms flickering like restless flames, but the All Mother raised a single glowing hand, halting all movement. Her voice, when it came, was like a melody of warmth and dominance, seduction and divinity intertwined. It was soft yet commanding, a sound that could soothe and terrify at once.
"No one speaks before me without permission," she said, her words resonating through the radiant realm like a song carried by the winds of creation.
Orin's clawed hand lowered, and he let out a low growl, his yellow eyes narrowing. "I don't care for your rules," he said, his voice gruff. "Why have you summoned me, All Mother?"
The All Mother tilted her head slightly, her veil shifting as though she were smiling beneath it. "Life," she began, her voice dripping with an almost hypnotic reverence, "is beautiful. Radiant. A fragile thread of light weaving itself through the tapestry of time. It is fleeting, yes, but that is what makes it precious. Every moment, every breath, is a diamond to be cherished."
Her words hung in the air, shimmering like the jewels floating around her. The Lysfødt seemed to nod in silent agreement, their radiant forms flickering softly.
"But even the most beautiful light can be swallowed by darkness," the All Mother continued, her voice growing heavier. "My chosen enforcer, Kassius Velmire, has gone dark. The Prophets have not seen him in days. I believe fate itself has turned its back on me because of it."
Orin's gaze sharpened, his wings twitching slightly. "And what does that have to do with me?"
The All Mother ignored his question, her voice dipping into an almost mournful tone. "I will move forward with my plan. I will raise the First Dragon, Gabriel. Though I know he will not be himself without Kassius's soul. Then I will need the power of the Tree of Ohnupilath—the tree Gabriel used to create all life and Kyrrin—may provide the means to restore him."
Her glowing eyes burned brighter behind the veil. "But I will need three things: the soul of Yuuna's mother, who the Prophets have informed me is lost. The Tree itself. And you, Orin."
Orin's claws tightened, his blood-red skin glowing faintly. "Me? Why?"
"You are made of Gabriel's blood," she said simply. "You are the direct conduit of the Cycle of Rebirth for the draconic deities. You are essential."
Orin snarled, his voice sharp. "I will not sacrifice myself just to raise Gabriel. And manipulating the Ohnupilath Tree is taboo. Even among us."
The All Mother's wings flared slightly, the jewels on her halo spinning faster as her radiance intensified. "Taboo?" she asked, her voice laced with a dangerous sweetness. "Do you not see the stakes? Xyenn and Yuuna killed and absorbed the Sun-Drake, the dragon god of the sun. Xyenn, as a Jotyin, could become a threat to everyone. He is what King Haldrek is becoming. An anomaly that must be destroyed."
Orin bared his fangs, his voice rising. "You speak of destruction, but do you even understand the Tree's purpose? There is no dragon god of life, because the Tree is life itself. It is sacred. The runes on the Tree—Sen's runes—are what bind its power."
He raised a clawed hand, drawing glowing shapes in the air as he spoke. "There are five runes: Ylka, the Rune of Creation. Thyn, the Rune of Balance. Kyr, the Rune of Destruction. Ohl, the Rune of Eternity. And Vyn, the Rune of Rebirth. They are not tools to be used lightly."
The All Mother's radiance dimmed slightly, but her presence grew colder. Her hands clenched the arms of her throne, and the jewels floating above her began to hum with an ominous energy.
"You refuse me?" she asked softly, her voice carrying an edge of danger.
Before Orin could respond, the sky above them shattered with a sound like breaking glass. A massive blade, forged from diamond and adorned with jagged, crystalline edges, shot down from the heavens at impossible speed. The weapon's surface pulsed with radiant energy, its shape tapering into a serrated, spear-like tip. It struck Orin with devastating force, piercing through his chest and pinning him to the crystalline ground. Blood exploded into the air, splattering the radiant realm with crimson droplets.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then, the blood particles shimmered, reforming into Orin's body. He growled low, his yellow eyes blazing as he dashed up the blade, his claws clinking against its jagged edges. With a powerful leap, he launched himself toward the All Mother, his blood-drenched wings leaving a crimson trail in the air.
The Lysfødt around her flickered with alarm, but the All Mother remained calm, her veil shifting as though she were smiling. "Strong," she murmured, her voice filled with a dangerous admiration. "You are an elder dragon god, after all. But radiance always wins. Gabriel intended it so."
From the heavens, a massive, radiant hand descended, its fingers covered in intricate runes of light. The hand moved with crushing speed, slamming down onto Orin mid-air. The impact sent a shockwave through the realm, the crystalline ground beneath them shattering like glass.
Orin gritted his teeth, his body trembling as he braced against the hand with eight blood-forged arms that sprouted from his back. His knees buckled under the immense weight, but he roared in defiance, his muscles straining as he pushed back against the divine force.
The radiant realm of the Light Born erupted into chaos, its crystalline beauty shattering under the weight of the brewing storm. Thunder roared like the voice of an angry god, and winds howled with a ferocity that threatened to tear the very fabric of the realm apart. The air itself seemed alive with tension, crackling with radiant energy and the heavy scent of impending violence. The All Mother sat motionless on her throne, her jewel-encrusted halo spinning faster and faster, the gems refracting blinding streaks of light across the battlefield. Her wings pulsed with raw energy, each beat of their light shaking the foundations of her domain.
Below her, Orin stood defiant, his blood-red body trembling as he held back the massive radiant hand pressing down on him. His eight blood-forged arms, sprouting grotesquely from his back, glistened with crimson light as they strained against the crushing weight. The veins across his body pulsed violently, his claws digging into the radiant surface of the hand as blood dripped and sizzled against the crystalline ground. The winds tore at him, the sheer force threatening to collapse him to his knees.
The All Mother's voice echoed through the storm, her tone still melodic but undercut with rising anger. "Kassius Velmire was to be the soul of vigor for Gabriel's resurrection. His strength, his very essence, was crafted for this purpose. But now, he is silent. He has gone dark. And without him, I am forced to rely on another."
Her radiant eyes burned brighter behind her veil, and her voice grew harsher, louder—reverberating like thunder. "Yuuna's mother… I know for certain her soul is a string of fate itself, tied to the threads of this world and beyond. Everything points back to her. The Prophets whisper her name, speak of her importance, yet they spread my plans like wildfire, unraveling everything before I can act. How can one move forward when the world conspires to delay destiny? They are neither my enemies or my allies, even if they've helped me choose Kassius as my enforcer, they will easily betray me. I still have no clue where the hell they come from…."
The hand pressed harder, its force sending cracks skittering across the crystalline ground beneath Orin's feet. He roared in defiance, his knees buckling slightly, but he refused to fall. Blood dripped from his arms as they strained, the crimson light of his body flickering. Yet, even as the All Mother's anger grew, so did Orin's resolve.
Through gritted teeth, he grinned. "You think… you can play god with the Tree of Ohnupilath," he growled. "Do you even understand what you're meddling with? That Tree is the very essence of life itself. It was Lancelot, the Dragon God of Light, who created it. The Tree is his domain. Each of us—each draconic deity—has a domain. To harm the Tree is to harm the world… and even Lancelot. He's the closest to Gabriel than anyone else, and you—being the so-called fucking radiant creation of Gabriel and his main worshipper, you would harm his closest companion?"
The All Mother's wings flared, their light burning brighter. Her voice exploded like a thunderclap, shaking the entire realm. "I DO NOT CARE!" she roared, the radiance of her form growing so intense it was difficult to look directly at her. "If just a hint of power from the Tree must be sacrificed, so be it. Gabriel is needed. The world is broken without him!"
The radiant hand bore down harder, the weight of it causing the cracks beneath Orin to deepen. His arms trembled, blood pooling beneath his feet, but his grin widened. "You think I'll just… roll over for you? You underestimate me, All Mother. I made a deal… with Yuuna."
The All Mother froze for a split second, her veil shifting slightly as if she were narrowing her eyes. "A deal?" she asked, her voice sharp and curious. "What deal?"
Orin's grin remained, his fangs glinting. "That's for me to know," he said, his voice laced with defiance. As he rose higher, pushing back against the hand with sheer force, the veins of blood on his body pulsed brighter. "And for you to wonder."
Suddenly, a group of Lysfødt moved. Without a word, they darted toward Orin, their weapons blazing with radiant energy. Their diamond-edged blades screamed as they tore through the air, aiming for the dragon god's exposed body.
Before they could strike, blood splattered from Orin's form, spraying across the battlefield like a crimson storm. From the droplets, dozens upon dozens of Blood Maidens emerged, their forms shifting and solidifying in an instant. The air was filled with the hum of blood magic as they surrounded the Lysfødt. Among the Blood Maidens was Parcy, the diminutive pixie but no less deadly. Her presence was a surprise, her form glowing faintly with blood runes as she hovered in the air with a mischievous smirk.
The Lysfødt's weapons clashed against the Blood Maidens' magic. Radiant energy met crimson spells, the air vibrating with the sheer force of the standoff. Both sides pushed against each other, neither gaining ground. Weapons pressed against weapons, magic against magic, their combined energies shaking the realm. The Lysfødt grunted as they pushed forward, their radiance flaring brighter, while the Blood Maidens hissed and growled, their blood runes glowing with an otherworldly light as they resisted with equal force.
Orin, still holding the radiant hand, roared as he bit down on it with his fanged maw. The hand cracked, the radiant jewels forming it shattering into a burst of blinding light. Orin leapt into the air, his blood-forged wings spreading wide as he hovered above the battlefield. His face was serious now, his grin gone, replaced by cold defiance.
"I am an elder dragon god," he declared, his voice rumbling across the realm. "No one tells me what to do. Not even you, All Mother. I don't care how close you were to Gabriel."
The All Mother remained seated on her throne, her expression unreadable behind her veil. But then, as if amused, she chuckled softly. "Strong words, Orin. You truly are an elder dragon god. But even so… radiance always wins. Gabriel intended it so."
Below them, the Blood Maidens and Lysfødt continued their standoff, their weapons and magic pressing against each other. The ground beneath them cracked and splintered as the forces collided, both sides grunting with exertion as they tried to overpower the other. The tension was palpable, every push and pull threatening to erupt into full-scale combat.
The All Mother tilted her head slightly, her voice cutting through the chaos. "What do you suggest, then, Orin? If you refuse me, what is your alternative?"
Orin hovered in the air, his yellow eyes blazing. "Xyenn," he said simply. "He's a Jotyin. That makes him an ally, whether you like it or not. Yuuna and Xyenn are the only ones capable of standing against the dragon gods trying to escape the Cycle of Rebirth. And with the demonic curses spreading, you'd be wise to work with them."
The All Mother hesitated. Her wings shifted slightly, their light dimming as she considered his words. "Work with a demonic goddess from Hell?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "You ask much of me, Orin."
"You don't have a choice," Orin replied bluntly. "Xyenn is a Jotyin. They grow stronger on a scale you can't even imagine. And Yuuna? You've seen what she's capable of. Together, they're unstoppable."
The All Mother was silent for a long moment.."I will not work with them. Just so they can stab me in the back? No. Get out of my sight. But remember this, Orin. I will have you, Yuuna's mother, and the Tree's power. Gabriel is needed here."
The storm began to calm, but the tension lingered in the air as Orin and his Blood Maidens remained poised.
'I have to tell Yuuna..' Orin thought.
…
(Unknown location)
The cave was a tomb. Snow filtered in from cracks in the jagged rocks above, blanketing the frozen bodies of soldiers whose faces were forever twisted in grotesque masks of horror. Their mouths yawned open in silent screams, their eyes wide and lifeless, ice crusting their lashes. Some lay slumped against the walls, their armor shattered, their weapons still clutched in frozen, blackened hands. Others were sprawled across the ground, their limbs twisted unnaturally, blood frozen in crimson trails that led to nowhere. The faint stench of death lingered beneath the biting cold, a haunting reminder of the savagery that had taken place.
Deep within this cave of death, King Haldrek and his daughter, Espen, stood in eerie contrast to the macabre scene. Haldrek's once-regal form had become something sickly and unnatural. His veins, black as ink, snaked grotesquely beneath his pale, frost-kissed skin, pulsating faintly with a dark aura that radiated from him like waves of suffocating pressure. His face was gaunt, his cheeks hollow, his eyes sunken and rimmed with shadow, yet his presence was overwhelming—an undeniably powerful figure, one whose very existence seemed to warp the air around him.
Haldrek was painting.
He dipped his bloodied fingers into a bowl of glowing, enchanted paint—its color shifting between icy blue and deep crimson—and smeared it across the rough cave walls. The image slowly took shape: a world without war. A land of serenity, where no soldiers marched and no blood was spilled. A vision of peace, pure and untainted. But the strokes were erratic, almost desperate, as though the very act of painting was an obsession, an escape he clung to with trembling hands. The blood spattered across his body mixed with the paint, staining the wall in ways both deliberate and accidental. He forced a smile as he worked, but there was no mistaking the madness that lurked behind his hollow eyes.
Beside him stood Espen, his young daughter, her small frame bundled in furs that were darkened by blood. Her tiny hands held a brush, but she barely moved. Her pale face, streaked with dirt and red smears, was tense, her lips trembling as she glanced nervously between her father and the grotesque scene surrounding them. Every fiber of her being told her she shouldn't be here—shouldn't be doing this. The dark aura that radiated from her father made her stomach churn, her chest tighten. It was like standing too close to a storm that could shatter the earth at any moment.
Espen's brush hovered over the wall, but it didn't move. She couldn't bring herself to paint. Not when her father looked like this. Not when the cave was filled with the frozen dead. Not when the air itself felt wrong.
"Papa…" she said softly, her small voice barely reaching him.
Haldrek didn't respond. His smile stayed fixed, his bloodied fingers continuing their frantic work on the wall.
"Papa," she tried again, her voice trembling slightly.
Still, he ignored her, his focus entirely on the mural.
Espen's tiny hands clenched the handle of her brush, her knuckles going white. She took a shaky step closer. "Papa?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
Finally, Haldrek's movements slowed. He didn't turn to face her, but his voice, light and almost sing-song, drifted through the cold air. "What is it, my little snowdrop? Papa is working. Can't you see?"
Espen hesitated, staring at his back. His tone was kind, but the dark aura that clung to him made her shiver. "Why… why do you hurt people, Papa?"
The question made Haldrek freeze. His hand, mid-stroke, hovered over the mural. For a long moment, the only sound was the faint whistle of the wind through the cracks in the cave. Slowly, Haldrek lowered his hand, his bloodied fingers curling into a loose fist.
Espen, emboldened by his silence, took another step closer. Her voice was soft, innocent, but laced with fear. "You just hurt and hurt, and… and they look sad. Why, Papa? Why do they look sad?"
Haldrek turned his head slightly, enough for her to see the corner of his forced smile. It was a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, my sweet Espen," he said, his voice still gentle. "You don't understand. Papa doesn't kill because he wants to. He does it because he must."
"But… why?" Espen asked, her small voice trembling.
Haldrek sighed, turning fully to face her now. He knelt, his towering frame folding down until he was at her level. His blackened veins seemed even more pronounced in the dim light, and the dark aura that surrounded him seemed to thicken, making the air harder to breathe. Yet his smile remained, soft and fatherly, as though nothing were wrong.
"Because, my little snowdrop," he began, his tone patient, "when Papa was young, he was forgotten. Abandoned. Spit on by the world. I had no power, no place. Nothing." His smile faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly forced it back. "But when I became the vessel of Snow, I was given power. True power. And with that power, I saw the world for what it truly is. It's filled with war, Espen. Pain. Suffering. Conquest."
His voice grew softer, almost wistful. "I want to purify the world, little one. I want to create a place where no one has to suffer like I did. But the only way to do that is to eliminate war itself. And to do that…" He paused, his eyes darkening. "I must bring war upon those who create it. I must destroy those who spread it. I must cleanse this world with my own hands."
Espen's face crumpled, her small hands trembling as she clutched the brush to her chest. "But… but they look sad, Papa. You… make them sad."
Haldrek's smile tightened, his jaw clenching slightly. "They are sad because they don't understand, Espen. They don't see the world the way I do. But one day, they will. One day, they will thank me."
Espen shook her head, her voice shaky but insistent. "No… no, Papa. Y-You just hurt them. You just make them sad and hurt. You don't… you don't make it better."
Haldrek's smile twitched, his hands curling into fists. His voice remained calm, but there was a sharpness to it now. "Espen, you don't understand. You're too young to—"
"But I do understand!" Espen cried, her voice rising slightly. "I see them! They're all sad, and they're gone, and you just keep doing it!"
Haldrek's forced smile finally broke. His eyes darkened, his expression twisting with frustration. "Enough!" he snapped, his voice still tinged with restraint. "You don't understand what it takes to change the world, Espen! You—"
"Why?!" Espen shouted, tears streaming down her face.
The tension snapped. Haldrek's expression contorted with anger, and he slammed his fist into the wall, the force of it shaking the cave. His voice erupted in a thunderous roar, the sheer power of it reverberating through the air like an avalanche.
"Enough!"
The force of his yell hit Espen like a physical blow, a deafening thoom that knocked her small frame backward. She tumbled to the ground, the wind knocked out of her, her tiny body rolling across the cold, bloodstained floor. She gasped desperately for air, her chest heaving as she clawed at the ground, trying to breathe.
Haldrek stood there, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his blackened veins pulsating as the dark aura around him grew thicker. His hands trembled, the overwhelming power coursing through him making the air feel suffocating.
The cave was still, save for the muffled sound of Espen's ragged gasps as she struggled to breathe. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, mingling with the streaks of blood on her face. She clutched at her chest, her small hands trembling as her body fought to recover from the thunderous force of her father's yell.
Haldrek stood a short distance away, his broad shoulders heaving with each labored breath. His blackened veins pulsed beneath his frostbitten skin, the dark aura emanating from him so oppressive it made the air feel suffocating. His remaining guards, encased in enchanted snow armor, stood nearby, their helmets hiding the terror in their eyes. They were soldiers, trained to face death, but the sight of their king—his power, his rage—was something else entirely.
One of the guards, trembling violently, stumbled backward. His breathing quickened, panic overtaking him. Without another word, he turned and started running toward the cave's entrance, desperate to escape.
Haldrek vanished.
A blur of motion, as fast as light itself, and then he was there—behind the fleeing guard. In one fluid motion, Haldrek grabbed the back of the man's helmet with his bloodied hand and slammed him into the cave wall. The impact sent a sickening *crack* through the air as the guard's head burst like a fruit against the jagged rock. Blood and brain matter splattered across the pristine snow-covered floor, darkening the white walls with streaks of crimson.
Before the body could even collapse, Haldrek spun, his movements unnervingly precise. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the lifeless corpse across the cave. The body hit the opposite wall—their mural—with another brutal crunch, the remains smearing blood and gore across the once-hopeful painting of a world without war.
The other guards froze, their breathing shallow, their terror palpable.
Haldrek's voice erupted, a booming roar that rattled the very foundation of the cave. "You will suffer with me!"
His words echoed, cutting through the still air like a blade. His once-forced smile was gone, replaced by a twisted snarl, his black veins throbbing as his power surged.
He turned slowly, his hollow, sunken eyes falling on Espen. She lay on the ground, curled in on herself, her small chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Her tears glistened in the dim, cold light of the cave.
Haldrek approached her, his heavy footsteps crunching through the snow and blood beneath him. His breathing was ragged, his expression shifting as he looked down at her. For a moment, he said nothing, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her fragile form.
He looked at his hands—his bloodied, trembling hands. The black veins beneath his skin seemed to writhe, pulsating with an energy that felt alive, like it was feeding off his emotions. He clenched his fists, staring at them as his mind raced.
"Why am I getting stronger?" he thought. "Is it this… anger? This guilt? Am I cultivating my own emotions into power? Is this drive—this unrelenting need to cleanse the world of Kyrrin's filth—what's fueling me?"
His gaze shifted back to Espen. She was still gasping, tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked up at him, her small, bloodied hands reaching weakly toward him.
A wave of self-loathing washed over him.
"What have I done?" he whispered, his voice cracking. He dropped to one knee beside her, his hands trembling as he reached for her. "Espen… I…"
His voice faltered, and for the first time in what felt like years, he felt the sting of tears in his own eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I didn't mean to… please, forgive me."
He pulled her into his arms, holding her small, trembling body against his chest. She clung to him weakly, her breathing still shallow, her tears soaking into his bloodstained tunic. Haldrek closed his eyes tightly, grief and guilt tearing at him.
"I planned for you to lead this world, Espen," he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. "To lead it in purity. But you can't do it with a child's mind. You have to be ready… now."
He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping her shoulders as he looked into her tear-filled eyes. His expression twisted, equal parts sorrow and determination.
"This world is dark. Unforgiving. Death lurks in every shadow, Espen. You must be strong. Stronger than I ever was."
He stood slowly, his dark aura intensifying as he raised one hand. Snow began to swirl around him, his magic manifesting as glowing runes formed in the air. The cave grew colder, the temperature dropping to an almost unbearable degree.
"This is the beginning," he said, his voice low and resolute.
He placed his hand over Espen's face, his palm covering her eyes. The snow runes spiraled down her small body, their glow illuminating the cave as they etched themselves into her skin. Espen's body stiffened, her small frame trembling violently as the transformation began.
The process was horrifying. Espen's skin turned a pale, icy blue, her veins glowing faintly as the magic coursed through her. Her small hands twisted and grew, her fingers elongating into sharp, crystalline claws. Her hair turned white as snow, lengthening and flowing like a frozen river. Her frame stretched unnaturally, her soft, childlike features morphing into something more angular, more alien.
Her eyes opened, glowing with a piercing, icy light that seemed to cut through the very air. Frost spread from her feet, creeping across the cave floor as the power oozed from her. Her stance was unsteady at first, but as the transformation completed, she stood tall—a snow humanoid, her presence radiating a cold, unrelenting power.
Haldrek stared at her, his breath caught in his throat. The sheer power emanating from her was overwhelming, even for him. He chuckled softly, tears streaming down his gaunt cheeks as he looked at her.
"You're not weak anymore," he whispered, his voice trembling with equal parts pride and sorrow. "In this world… this dark, unforgiving world… you'll survive. You'll thrive. You'll cleanse it."
Espen trembled, her glowing eyes flickering as she tried to form words. Her lips parted, but her voice was weak, strained. "Papa…"
Haldrek froze.
The single word hit him like a blade to the chest. His smile faltered, his knees buckling slightly as he stared at her.
In his mind, a vision began to take shape. He saw himself walking through an endless snowstorm, the frozen ground beneath him littered with piles of skeletons. The faces of the dead haunted him, their empty sockets staring, accusing.
"Did I turn her into a monster?" he asked himself. "The very thing I fought so hard not to become?"
He remembered his own childhood—how he had fought so desperately to hold on to his humanity, only to be beaten down by a world that didn't care. He had embraced the monster within himself to survive, to conquer, to purify. But now… had he forced the same fate on his daughter?
He fell to his knees, his hands covering his face as tears streamed down. He saw himself as a child, lost and broken, whispering the words he had tried so hard to bury.
"I'm a horrible father…"
Desperate for answers, he called out in his mind. "Kragvyr… Dragon God of Snow… help me. Tell me what to do."
But there was no answer. Only silence.
Instead, a voice deeper and colder than anything he had ever heard echoed in his mind. **Death spoke.**
"Let her be strong, as you are," the voice said. "She is not a monster. She is an enforcer of purity, just as you are. She will carry your torch when you are gone. She will cleanse this world, as you cannot."
Back in the cave, Haldrek stood slowly, his face wet with tears as he looked at Espen. He wiped his eyes, his expression hardening as he steeled himself.
"Espen," he said softly, his voice trembling. "Kill them. Kill the knights."
He turned away, walking across the cave as the screams began. He didn't look back, even as the sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones filled the air.
With every scream, he asked himself, "Was this worth it?"
He shut his eyes tightly, his hands trembling. "She won't suffer like I did," he whispered. "She won't know war. She won't know discrimination. This is for the best."
But deep down, he knew the truth.
"I'm broken," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible.