Somewhere, in a land blanketed by an unyielding winter, silence reigned supreme. There was no sign of life—why? Because it was winter, my friend. A season where the living huddled together for warmth while fear crept into their hearts, and the merciless cold threatened to freeze the very blood in their veins. Winter here showed no mercy; it knocked upon doors with raging snowstorms, howling like a beast without compassion.

Amidst this vast white expanse, in the heart of the relentless blizzard that sought to erase all traces of existence, a lone figure trudged forward. Each step left fleeting imprints in the snow, accompanied by a muffled crunch—whispers to the void. Why was he here? What force compelled him to wander through a storm so cruel? No one knew. Perhaps he had his reasons. So, do not be too quick to judge him, my friend.

He moved slowly, clutching a lantern that barely pierced through the thick fog enshrouding the land. There was no sign of life… save for this solitary man. Let us grant him a name. Let us call him Lucifer.

Lucifer:

"Ah… what a merciless storm, snuffing out life as if it were nothing. But I have no choice. I've grown accustomed to making my rounds every night. Is it fear? Obsession? Or perhaps… cowardice? I no longer know."

"Since I came to this strange land, since I found myself cradled in the arms of a woman who was not my mother, in this secluded mountain home—a tiny wooden cabin, standing at the edge of a snow-drowned forest and a frozen pond. But one thing has always stirred my curiosity: flowers… yes, rare flowers called Snowdrops. I do not know how they manage to bloom in this frozen hell, but that does not matter now."

"What matters is my nightly patrols, my wolves at my side, and this feeble lantern barely holding back the darkness. The only sound was the cursed storm, roaring its defiance against the world."

Then… I heard it.

A faint whimper. Barely perceptible amidst the wailing winds.

I froze for a moment, then ran toward the sound, my wolves at my heels—or perhaps they were leading me. And when I arrived… what did I find? Hah… it was not what I had expected.

I found two children.

---

From Lucifer's Perspective:

There, in the heart of the frozen wasteland, two small figures trembled—clinging to one another in a desperate attempt to share what little warmth they had left.

They seemed no older than eight or ten.

The boy had long, golden locks, as if no one had ever bothered to cut his hair. His eyes, a pale shade of blue, reminiscent of the summer sky, yet drained of warmth by the bitter cold. His skin was white—too white, like the pallor of the dead. The girl, almost a reflection of him, bore wheat-colored hair that framed her delicate face.

Both were disturbingly thin, their bodies too small for their age, their faces ashen, as if the winter had already begun to siphon the life from them. Their consciousness wavered, slipping between the waking world and the abyss of the cold. They had mere minutes left before the snow claimed them forever.

But before we speak the word that readers dread—before we utter death—let us first grant them names.

The girl shall be called Bellini.

The boy, Balian.

To be continued...