Months passed.
In an ordinary house in the kingdom, a pan stirred frantically with an egg over a wood burning stove. A man set it onto bread, folding it over and handing it to a woman, who thanked him, bringing it to her lips.
The man sat beside her, pulling a bandage off his hand, the skin beneath it looking as it had before. Despite the difficulties, he had quickly managed to adapt to the humble technology of the region. The woman agreed, it was good to see him better. But she had a question, why hadn't the other arm regenerated? He explained that the state that part had been left in was so disfigured that, if it regenerated, it would end up being a far more complicated deformity than simply not having the limb, so mechanizing it was the easier option. Was he going to do that? He answered he would, later, full recovery of himself was the priority for now.
When she finished eating, the woman stood, smoothing her red hair with her nails. She had to get back to work. He asked if she couldn't stay a little longer, since, as he had noticed over the past few days, there were barely any Inferius left in the IceStorm region, meaning she would likely be assigned almost nothing. That made sense, and she added she had already cleared out the few that remained. So she agreed, dropping onto the couch and asking for more bread and egg.
The one visible eye beneath the man's bandaged face closed, a sigh escaping his covered mouth as he went back to the kitchen. She swung her legs up into the air, there was nothing to do, it was boring. Then it was time to learn how to rest. How? She could, well, visit people, take a walk, go eat at some local restaurant. She decided on the idea of visiting Carolina. Wouldn't she be working? No, the queen had seemed restless, so the soldier was free. With that, he nodded and handed her another piece of bread and egg.
Stepping outside, they felt the wind hit their bodies. The man wrapped himself up further, the woman pulled him along by the arm.
People, the same ones who had once looked at the pair with suspicion, waved good morning to them now. The woman waved back, and the man wished them the same. They stopped at a tavern, where the bald, heavyset man greeted them by shouting their names with a wide grin. Slady and Ferinish.
Soon after, they passed a clothing shop. An older woman and a young girl welcomed them inside. The young girl led Ferinish toward the women's section, careful not to touch her. Slady stayed by the entrance, leaning against the wall. The older woman took her place beside him, back hunched, arms crossed behind her.
He looked thoughtful. He denied it, said he was only taking in the view. The old woman laughed, telling him not to try fooling her, she'd lived long enough to understand children. He turned toward her, challenging her to guess what he'd been thinking. About Ferinish? He denied it. About the kingdom? He denied that too.
About his old home?
How had she known? She had heard he came from somewhere else, so it was fair to assume he might be thinking of his old home. He agreed, but it was really the people there who weighed on his mind. Did they need him? He didn't know. They were capable of surviving, but he still worried. The old woman touched his shoulder gently. If he had known good people, they would take care of whoever mattered to him. That was what she hoped for him.
Suddenly, a touch at his back. It was Ferinish, in a beautiful thick, dark dress, asking how she looked. To the old woman, she looked like a goddess. Slady, after a few seconds letting his eyes travel from her face down to her feet, concluded she was perfect.
And so they kept walking through the great kingdom, talking about whatever crossed their minds. Until they reached a house. They looked at the horizon, the sun sinking, disappearing behind the walls, which glowed orange.
Carolina probably wouldn't want visitors on her day off, so they turned to leave, until murmurs reached their ears and drew them toward a small window.
Steam clouded their view before it cleared. In a bath, a little boy of six or seven rested against the chest of an older girl. She sang a soft song, stroking his hair. Her brother, her hero, needed to rest after spending so much energy through the day. Her only expression in that moment was a small, faint smile.
Watching the scene, the two of them reached only one conclusion. Adorable.
Back home, Slady sat on the couch. They had needed that day, a moment to let their minds drift away from their problems. Ferinish agreed, sitting right beside him, knees pulled to her chest. She hadn't imagined that, behind that whole place full of scientists, there existed a world with smells, food, everything no simulation she had ever lived through could give her. The closest thing to a real world she'd had was the Inferius, and those hadn't been good experiences.
Slady watched her as she spoke. The world could be a cruel, complicated place and everything else besides, but there was still beauty in it. There always is, even hidden in the shadows.
He was being too poetic, she said, better to just rest. He nodded, closing his eyes. Soon, he felt her head against his chest, then in his lap, already snoring softly. He lingered, looking at her hair before reaching out a hand, running it slowly over the strands. The motion was slow, and grew slower still as time passed.
Until it stopped.
***
Suddenly, knocks on the door broke the peace of the moment. Still half dazed, Slady answered. It was Carolina, giving a formal greeting. The queen had summoned Ferinish, and it was for today. Ferinish, still lying down, asked what it was about. There was no further information.
With a sigh, she got up and changed in another room, adjusting her coat. Slady kept his eyes fixed on Carolina. Should he come along? The soldier shook her head no. Once ready, Ferinish said goodbye to Slady and left with her.
Keeping pace with the girl's brisk steps and her spear, the red haired woman leaned in, eyes narrowed. Something was off with her, she said. It wasn't, Carolina answered. It was, Ferinish insisted. How could she prove it? Fists clenched too tight, lips pressed into a strange line, shoulders too tense, something was clearly off with her. Ferinish nearly laughed. Let her guess, had Slady taught her how to read people too? Good to know. Arrogant, Carolina muttered. And also more irritable than usual, Ferinish added.
Carolina only shook her head. The air felt heavier, as though gravity itself had increased. People looked at them with the same smiles as always, waving. Ferinish returned it faintly, but Carolina kept her eyes fixed on the castle.
As they climbed the stairs, the soldiers lining the sides bowed, one arm pressed to their chest. The great door of ice slid smoothly across the floor as it opened, and Carolina kept walking straight ahead, climbing the steps in front of her.
Ferinish glanced around. The library, women's murmurs drifting from the kitchen, armored men whispering something indecipherable among themselves.
Once the larger doors opened, a hall stretched out into a single wide corridor. Along the sides, candles that never melted the icy structure, a white carpet down the center, dark and blue petals scattered in a synchronized pattern, blending together all the way to the throne, where the queen sat.
Fraizen Rosenmary rested her hands on the arms of the throne, its top shaped into three sharp points. Her face was lowered, hidden beneath completely white hair, the crown fitted perfectly, as though it were a part of her own body.
Beside her, a man in a cloak and white garments. A bow was visible across his back, his hands laced together in front of his waist, covered by a glove made of some material that caught the faint fraction of sunlight stretching across the horizon and reflected it against Ferinish's eyes.
Carolina and the man exchanged serious glances, and she took her place on the other side of Fraizen, leaning on her spear. Fraizen and Ferinish held each other's gaze, neither looking away. When the red haired woman was close enough, Fraizen rose, revealing a height near two meters, her bare feet touching the floor as she walked until she stood close to the warrior.
Welcome to the palace, Ferinish Lawhell. She hoped she wasn't taking up her time. She wasn't, but asked that Fraizen be direct, it was her day off. Of course, that was entirely her right. Then Fraizen would be very clear. She wanted her power, her loyalty, her blade to fight for IceStorm. Need her blade? Her power? She still didn't understand, was this about some specific mission? No. To put it even more plainly, she wanted her to become a soldier of the kingdom.
Ferinish refused. Could she repeat that? She refused, yes. Then let her explain.
She had lived there long enough to see that the queen wasn't loyal to her own people. People robbed, murdered, left unprotected. And those who had refused this same offer before her never came back. She wouldn't serve someone like that.
Fraizen understood. And indeed, she had failed her people greatly. But she wanted her to know something, Ferinish Lawhell. She allowed all of it because standing at her side wasn't merely a privilege, it was a divine obligation.
And anyone who refused that had to die.
A whisper reached Ferinish's ears, it was Carolina, an apology. In the same instant, the soldier and the man lunged forward. The spear cut through the air, Ferinish reacted immediately, kicking out. Carolina dropped low, threw a kick that missed. The red haired woman grabbed her by the leg and hurled her to the ground. The man fired from his bow, striking the ground beside her, a sheet of ice forming that pinned her in place.
He unleashed a flurry of strikes at Ferinish's face, but she dodged every one, caught his fists with one hand, and slammed her own head against his, forcing him to his knees. He called her a wretch.
Was that all this was? Sacrificing her own soldiers? And Carolina. She had wanted to be able to trust her. Fraizen let out a short laugh that echoed through the whole hall. No one had a choice under her command.
The door burst open, and countless men opened fire on Ferinish with their weapons. Fraizen merged into the castle itself, Carolina and the man pressed flat against the walls, Ferinish took cover behind one of the pillars. Suddenly, she found herself wrapped in ice, the queen's voice echoing around her. She needed to understand she had no control over anything.
Breaking free of the attack, Ferinish dodged the gunfire and charged the soldiers. Her blade lit up in flames, and she cut through them in a wave of heat that made them scream.
Women from the lower floors ran toward the exit, crying for help. The castle began to melt, sections of the ceiling and inner structure collapsing, crushing some of the innocent people below. Ferinish cut through the flames, carrying the women in her arms and rushing them toward the exit as fast as she could, leaving trails of smoke across the floor.
A younger one slipped on the wet floor. An older one tried to reach out a hand, but another piece of the ceiling crashed down between them, and a third piece was already falling toward the girl, who curled up, overwhelmed with tears. The fall never happened. She looked up, Ferinish stood before her, shouting for her to run, and hurled the piece of ceiling out of the castle, tearing through a wall and launching it kilometers into the sky.
Impressive, but also foolish for causing all that trouble. Ferinish saw Fraizen Rosenmary descending the stairs and questioned why Carolina and the man were there at all. Fraizen rested her elbow against her chest, propped her chin on her hand, and said she wasn't responsible for anyone's life, but that if it was Ferinish's fault she lost her perfect soldiers, she would make her suffer far more before she died.
Ferinish said she wouldn't live long enough to see that happen.
And she lunged with her sword. Fraizen touched the handrail, spikes shot up from it. Ferinish cut through them and prepared a vertical strike, her blade wreathed in flame. In that same instant, she felt her feet pinned. It was the man, drawing his bow. Carolina lunged too, her expression dark, and drove her spear into Ferinish's stomach. With a wide smile, Fraizen pushed, driving the weapon in deeper, and at the same moment the floor grew even smoother. Ferinish was launched like a rocket toward a mountain.
The impact sent up a curtain of smoke. Ferinish, paralyzed, watched the spear melt and fell, tumbling over boulders until she hit the ground. She dragged herself forward, crying out for help, her legs refusing to obey. She lifted her head, and from the sky the queen descended before her, wings of ice fused to her garments. A shame. As she knelt in front of her, she touched Ferinish's face, forcing her to look up at her. She had waited centuries, but it seemed she would have to wait another two hundred years for someone who would obey her for all eternity.
She raised one hand, a sharp blade extending from her palm, aimed at Ferinish's head. And so, she said her goodbyes. Ferinish closed her eyes, images from her entire past returning to her mind like a film. Her last thought was a farewell to Slady.
But, suddenly, something struck Fraizen in the neck. She stopped, eyes wide. She slowly moved her hand to the spot, pulled out an empty needle, and a drop of reddish liquid mixed with something purple gleamed on its tip. With a lurch of her heart, she doubled over and vomited blood.
From the shadows of the trees, Slady ran toward Ferinish, holding another syringe, this one greenish. He shouted for her to hold on, only a few meters separated them. But he fell, the syringe lost in the snow, and a pulse of ice rose beneath the white layer and shattered his leg, bone breaking through the skin. He screamed, the bandages over his face turning red near his mouth as he coughed.
Fraizen's distorted voice rose in a cry. He was dead. The ice slid up his back and pierced him with a needle, his body left dangling in the air. Ferinish reached out a hand, calling his name, tears streaming down her face without restraint. As she rose, the queen touched her own face, where ice had already replaced her flesh, a bluish horn growing at the side of her head. The skin of her arms split open with spikes bursting from within, what tore itself open regenerating into solid blue, claws extending from her own fingers and slicing through the flesh around them.
A roar echoed through the whole forest, the other side of Fraizen's face streaked with tears. What had he done to her?! Slady was the Devil! And now Ferinish would pay for all of it!
But, suddenly, everything went silent. There was no sound of wind, none from the trees. She turned around and saw a figure stepping out of Slady's body. She had gone too far. Fraizen lowered her eyes instantly, dropping to her knees. Ferinish closed her eyes, the light blinding her vision.
She would give her one more chance, a chance to reconsider everything. Truth touched the queen's shoulders, a pressure that made her bones twist. Let her go, and never appear again. With that, Fraizen dissolved into cubes of ice, vanishing into the white ground. Ferinish's vision darkened, her breath coming in shallow gasps despite everything. But, in her final seconds, she felt the whole weight of her life dissolve away. And a voice echoed inside her mind.
Take care of him. Protect him. He is the bearer of ruin. Be his other half.
And, with that, everything went dark.