Snow fell in drops that glittered like fragments of dying stars. The sky, once heavy with storm, had begun to clear—and through its pale silence, a single transparent snowflake drifted down.
It looked almost divine, a crystal born from heaven itself.
But when it touched the ground—it turned red.
The color spread like ink through water. In seconds, every flake that touched the earth followed suit, and soon the world was painted in crimson frost.
The battlefield was quiet now, but silence could not hide the truth. Bodies—tens of thousands of them—lay strewn across the frozen valley. Swords jutted from the ground like gravestones, each one whispering the name of the dead.
And at the center of it all… stood a woman.
She would have been beautiful, had her face not borne the mark of war—a long, thin scar running from the edge of her eye to her jaw. Snow fell upon her armor, polished silver stained with blood, and the reflection of red snow danced across its surface like dying embers.
Her sword was still dripping. Each droplet hissed when it met the cold earth.
She did not speak. She only looked at the world she had conquered—and for a brief, fragile moment, her eyes dimmed.
The wind carried the scent of blood. Somewhere in the distance, a banner fell.
Then, she turned—her gaze falling upon the headless corpse before her. It was still kneeling, as if in eternal obedience to the one who had slain it.
She stared at it for a while… then exhaled. The breath left her lips like a sigh carved from ice.
She bent down, took the severed head by the hair, looked into the dull, empty eyes, and without emotion, flung it aside.
It rolled across the snow until it stopped near a shattered spear.
The woman straightened her back. For a moment, her shoulders trembled—not from exhaustion, but from something deeper, harder to name.
Footsteps approached from behind.
"My Queen," a man's voice broke the cold silence. He wore the black and crimson armor of the Asura Guard, a sword strapped to his back, the symbol of loyalty etched upon his breastplate.
"The King seeks your presence."
She turned her head slightly. A faint smile, almost too soft to be real, touched her lips.
"Get me water," she said.
The man blinked, bowed, and hurried off.
When he returned, she took the flask from his hand. The water was warm, and for a moment, it seemed to wash away the metallic taste of battle from her tongue.
Her name was Crystal—General Commander of the Asura Army, Queen of the Kingdom that now ruled the Northern Plains.
To her soldiers, she was a legend. To her enemies, a curse.
And to herself… she was just a weapon that still hadn't broken.
When she finished drinking, she looked at the field once more. The bodies. The snow. The silence that followed victory.
None of it felt like triumph.
Still, she turned away and followed the guard toward the command base. Each step left a faint trail of red on the snow, as if even her shadow refused to be clean.
The war had ended. For now.
When she entered the base, torches flickered along the stone walls, casting shadows that seemed to move like restless ghosts.
At the center of the tent stood a man tall enough to command the air around him. His eyes were calm, his smile warm enough to melt the frost in the air—but to those who looked too long, there was always something dangerous behind it.
King Noah.
He turned when she entered.
"Walk with me, my Queen," he said, voice soft, carrying weight that made the room fall silent.
Crystal met his gaze. For a moment, they simply stared—two rulers, bound by war, by love, by something neither could truly name.
Then she smiled faintly and followed him out.
They climbed the ridge beyond the camp. The higher they went, the thinner the air became, and the more distant the world below looked—a vast ocean of red snow under a pale white sky.
When they reached the top, Noah stopped.
Before them spread a sight so strange it was almost unreal: the last light of dusk caught the falling snow, turning it into drifting shards of silver and scarlet. The air shimmered with a quiet, holy beauty.
"Do you see it?" Noah whispered. "The storm has passed. The world is changing."
Crystal watched the light dance across the snow. It was beautiful. It shouldn't have been.
She said nothing.
Noah stepped closer. The warmth of his body brushed against her armor as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. For a heartbeat, she allowed it—allowed herself to feel human again.
His voice was a low murmur beside her ear.
"You've done well, Crystal. The war is over. The Asura will rise again."
She smiled faintly. "I only did what was necessary."
He laughed softly, the sound carried away by the wind.
Then—a sound cut through the stillness.
Shhkk—
Her breath caught. Her body stiffened.
She looked down. A blade, thin and black as shadow, had pierced through her stomach—the steel glistening with her own blood.
The warmth spread too quickly. She staggered back, her hand trembling as it touched the hilt protruding from her armor.
Her eyes rose to meet Noah's.
He was smiling. Gently. Lovingly.
"…Why?" she whispered, voice breaking in the cold air.
Noah's hand lingered on the sword. "For peace," he said simply. "The world cannot hold two thrones."
He pushed the blade deeper.
Crystal gasped, her knees hitting the snow. Her blood dripped freely now, each drop turning the white around them into crimson mirrors.
The wind howled—a requiem only the dead could understand.
"You…" she whispered, her voice trembling. Her fingers gripped his arm weakly."…you promised…"
"I did," he said, kneeling beside her, his hand brushing her cheek with a tenderness that mocked the wound he had given her.
"And you kept your promise too, my Queen. You conquered the north. You gave me everything I needed."
Her vision blurred. The world tilted.
For a moment, she thought she saw the sky darken—not from clouds, but from something deeper, like the world itself was holding its breath.
She tried to stand, but her body refused. The sword remained lodged in her stomach, its black edge humming softly, drinking in her life.
Noah rose, his cloak fluttering in the cold wind.
"Rest now, Crystal," he said, voice calm. "You'll be remembered as a hero."
Her lips moved. She wanted to curse him, to scream, to strike. But no sound came.
The red snow fell again, covering her armor, her hands, her eyes.
And as she fell onto her knees, the last thing she saw was Noah walking away, his figure fading into the storm.
The snow did not stop. It fell endlessly, burying the corpses, the banners, the past.
And in that silence, a whisper echoed—faint, distant, like the breath of the dead carried through time.
"Chaos does not end… it only sleeps."
The crimson snow swirled around Crystal's still form. Her fingers twitched once.
Somewhere within the dying light, a faint pulse of energy flickered inside her chest—dark, chaotic, and alive.
And though her eyes were closed, a single tear slipped down her cheek—turning to blood before it touched the ground.