Note: Y'all, I'm in tears. Also I'm using a fixed hair color and eye color (you basically look like La Signora. ————————————————————
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"I carry this burden with a heavy heart"
The ice slowly devours me whole, the whispers of an owl becoming treacherous as the time passes. The Snezhnayan wind knows no mercy, and yet here I am on the knees of this winter nightmare.
I carry the same color as her hair, and the same color of her eye. Forever will it remind me of her cold glare amongst the soldiers that challenged her high.
And yet hear I am, the news becoming clear, denial fading into the hard truth.
My only kin has faded like a candlelight. And I have become one with solitude.
———————ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ——————––
It felt surreal. Y/n knelt in front of the Tsaritsa herself, eyes widened through the mask. "Another life withered..."
There was nothing but echoes, silence from the one at the bottom of the throne, but there was a small window of painful reality welcoming itself onto the room.
"Life... it always has an end... and sadly, she met hers sooner."
"I see..." Whispered Y/n. Despite the mask on their face, the quiver of their voice was evident... very. "And yet my last sentence was not even a goodbye..." small sobs racked through the room, and droplets on the white floor.
The Tsaritsa pitied the one in front of them. There was a heartache that bloomed from their excruciating pain, and even the archon of ice could feel the waves of sorrow fill the room even more. La Signora was the only one Y/n talked to the most... it was no lie that she was their nearest being to a friend, their sister, who they could never rid off despite their bad blood.
And the rest were all but cold yes's and acquaintances.
"I am sorry... but this is where our contract takes effect."
Y/n's eyes widened. Ah yes... the contract. "So... this was the contract. To become the Eight in her death."
Y/n stood in front of the harbringers, eyes coldly staring at the throne. So it was fated, to be the eighth harbringer when the crimson witch falls to her demise. The tears have long stopped, eyes rung out torturously from days on end.
"Just as planned. By the orders of the Tsaritsa and the contract between Signora and Her Highness, you are now the Eighth Harbringer. Don't bring us down," the first said, staring down at the new Eighth.
"By all means, I will continue working upon the orders of the Tsaritsa," They said, no emotions left.
And when they looked up, the man could only see through the holes of their mask, that there was only ice-cold eyes staring back, one that stated their blood with La Signora. Their eyes was matte, the gloss lost upon mourning, yet it held such a cold gaze like that of winter snow.
———————ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ——————––
The lucelence of a snowflake, it continues to fall as the wintry winds pass through once again.
Y/n was left to looking at the white canvas before them, where snow only piles up. It covers every dirt. If Y/n never moved from their place, it would cover them as well.
That was what they wanted right now— buried in white, regrets becoming nothing as the storm brews.
It reminded them of that one snowy night.
"I don't get how do we kill without any ounce of regret... or shame..." Y/n mumbled, sipping on the warm beverage of tea, eyes looking down at their reflection. "And yet you've wanted to kill me again and again..." Y/n's eyes looked to the same icy blue eyes that they handled.
"That was all in the past... Right now, all I want is him back."
There was nothing but silence.
"He was someone I desired, yes... but he was someone I genuinely cared for."
The past conversations came to their mind, and they smiled, even slightly. Tears sprung up once again on their eyes. She was never meant to die... not like that... not by the hands of the archon of eternity. "Why is this so unfair..."
Y/n reached out to what they have achieved, a blooming cyan vision of air. It glistens in the snowy air, and it becomes apparent to them that they now held in their hands an anemo vision. Though it was an achievement of some sorts...
"Is this Celestia's way of pity?"
Their hands held snuggly onto their vision. The wintry air only made it feel colder. There was nothing to celebrate in the arms of Celestia.
———————ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ——————––
Y/n finally went back home, now for one person and a hundred servants.
Y/n walked the halls, servants too scared to even roam and about. They walked the stairs and onto La Signora's room.
And they cried. Screaming onto their hands. "Fucking hell..." Y/n grabbed fistfuls of their hair.
"FUCKING HELL!"
It echoed loudly on the halls, and no one was tough enough to enter the room of their late mistress.
"WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE ME IN THIS SITUATION?!"
Y/n screamed. Fury and sorrow mixed together like a storm, and the winds of their doing thrashed the room.
"WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YOU?!"
And yet there was one thing that reached out to them, and it was a ring of crimson.
It was cold. There was nothing warm to it anymore.
"Just why... did you have to leave me, sister..." Y/n sat on their bed, ring kept in their tight fist. "I hated you so much... and this just makes me hate you more..." Y/n whispered through their tears, sometimes choking from them.
"And I hated myself too..." One final sob, she held the ring, and wore it on her ring finger. Maybe just then, there would still be a low ember cradling them in the harsh winter truth.
