In the heart of the brutal snowstorm, Keilia's voice rang out like a final shot before the explosion — eyes fixed on Iver with complete contempt:
"You… you're nothing but a counterfeit son—"
Fate didn't give her time to finish.
The barrier she'd built around Ice shattered. As the smoke cleared, Iver was gone — vanished like a ghost, leaving behind a silence more frightening than any sound.
On those white heights, only two still bodies remained.
And one small boy standing in the middle of a crimson pool.
Blood that seemed to weep in the freezing cold.
Ice rose with difficulty, his small body trembling — not from cold, but from the weight of what his eyes were seeing.
He knelt beside his mother. His shaking fingers reached out and wiped a frozen tear from her cheek — a tear that had been there while she was still holding him, just seconds ago.
His white hair swayed in the wind, blending with the surrounding snow as if he'd always been part of this brutal landscape.
From far away, a dark shape broke through the white horizon. A black dragon, stumbling — clothing torn, head bowed, as if it carried the sins of the entire world on its back.
As it drew closer, the dragon transformed into a winged human figure. His eyes held a brokenness that matched the child's completely.
Ice (empty eyes): "Who are you?"
Zis (rough voice): "I am… your guardian."
Zis vanished suddenly with the sound of approaching heavy footsteps.
The villagers had finally arrived.
Ice screamed — a sound that tore through the mountain's silence:
"Where were you when my parents were slaughtered?! Where is my brother?!"
Wit, the village elder, stepped forward, his face covered in shock:
"Your brother disappeared from his room… and your uncle too. The message they left says: 'Two jewels were stolen — one that shone, and one that was the brightest of all jewels before its light went out.'"
Ice's hands fell to his sides.
A short, bitter laugh shook the chests of everyone standing there:
"Wonderful… I have nothing left. Completely alone. Wonderful."
But the emptiness in his eyes shifted. Something underneath it hardened.
He reached out and took hold of his father's twin blades — the Khopesh — and wrapped a snow cloak around his neck. His white hair rose like a crown of ice above the head of a defeated king.
Ice: "Elder… do you know the name 'Iver'?"
Wit: "No, son. We've never heard that name before."
Ice looked toward the village, eyes wet:
"Rejoice, Father… Mother… I'm going to start a war that will turn young men's hair grey before the old men's."
Wit: "You've arrived at a grief no human being should have to carry. I'll send you to the far north — where monsters are made."
Ice: "The place doesn't matter. As long as I get what I want."
He knelt beside his mother and pulled the ring from her finger.
The moment it settled in his hand, a three-dimensional blue screen bloomed into existence — lighting his pale face and white hair.
Screen: "Hello… I am your intelligent assistant: Kily."