Cold.
A merciless, suffocating cold.
It wasn't the crisp chill of a winter morning or the comforting embrace of freshly fallen snow. This was something else.
A cold that gnawed at my flesh, seeped into my bones, and wrapped around my heart like the hands of a corpse.
I gasped, my breath shallow, my chest tight. My lungs burned, each inhale like a blade of ice stabbing through me.
Where… am I?
My body was half-buried in the snow, my face pressed against frozen earth soaked in something thick and metallic-smelling.
I forced my eyes open.
And the horror struck me.
The snow wasn't white.
It was crimson.
Everywhere I looked, bodies lay scattered—twisted, lifeless. Men, women… children. The scent of burnt flesh lingered in the air, mingling with the thick, metallic stench of blood. The sky above was no longer the familiar blue of the North. Instead, it was dark, split by distant fire and thick columns of smoke rising like funeral pyres.
A low ringing echoed in my ears, drowning out all sound. My body ached, my limbs were numb, my head throbbed. But one thought screamed louder than the pain.
The North has fallen.
Itried to push myself up, but my arm gave out. I collapsed back onto the snow, a sharp jolt of pain tearing through my ribs.
I coughed, tasting iron. My breath came ragged, and my vision swam.
I was still alive.
But why?
Then, my mind caught up to my senses.
I needed to move.
I needed to run.
But my body refused to listen.
A sudden, sharp noise cut through the ringing in my ears. A heavy crunch in the snow.
Something was nearby.
And it wasn't human.
I forced myself to turn my head.
Then, I saw it.
A creature lurked among the bodies, its elongated limbs moving unnaturally, its form hunched and skeletal. Its skin was black as tar, shifting like liquid. Glowing red eyes flickered in the darkness as it sniffed the air, searching.
A demonic scavenger.
My breath hitched.
If those things were here, that meant…
This wasn't a war.
It was a purge.
I clenched my jaw to keep myself from making a sound. My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst from my chest.
Slowly, carefully, I shifted my weight, pressing myself into the snow. I needed to hide.
The creature let out a guttural snarl. Its elongated fingers twitched as it crouched over one of the corpses.
Then, in one swift motion, it plunged its hand into the dead soldier's chest, pulling out something pulsating and dark.
My stomach twisted.
I turned my head, forcing myself to look away.
Then, my gaze landed on something just a few meters away.
A figure, lying in the snow.
A man clad in shattered black and silver armor.
A broken sword by his side.
His lifeless eyes stared up at the sky.
My father.
I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood.
The Duke of the North. The strongest man I had ever known. A warrior who had defended these lands for decades.
And now, he lay there. Motionless.
A long, jagged wound ran across his chest, his armor torn open like paper. His face, once full of authority and power, was now frozen in eternal silence.
The cold had already stolen the warmth from his skin.
A lump formed in my throat.
I should have been beside him. Fighting. Dying.
But I was still here.
Why?
A wave of nausea hit me, but I swallowed it down.
This wasn't the time.
I needed to move.
I clenched my trembling fingers into fists, my nails digging into my palms.
I need to survive.
I need to disappear.
Shifting as quietly as I could, I reached toward my father's hand.
His fingers were stiff, frozen in death's grip, but I managed to pull the silver ring from his index finger.
A dimensional ring.
clenched it tightly.
My father no longer needed it.
But I did.