"Astrid Calliste… it's you again…"
A chill, razor-sharp icicle pierced up through Brennild's chest from below, yet it didn't interrupt her speech in the slightest, as if the ice magic had struck not her lungs, but a lump of air utterly unrelated to her.
Several meters away, Astrid, hearing that familiar tongue again, felt none of the joy of meeting an old acquaintance in a foreign land. Her snow-white delicate face was cold as frost; her crimson pupils quietly fixed on Brennild, suspended midair with an icicle through her body, and her tone was light, almost careless.
"It has been a few years."
Since that truly farewell in the Monster Beast Mountain Range, time has passed. If this "god" hadn't repeatedly stirred war in the shadows, plunging the lives of two nations into misery, Astrid would almost have forgotten she existed.
