Among the North - Ruined Reality

Prologue

The world laid in its cradle of seemingly untouched ruin.

The world was broken, three quarters of the way dead yet isolated from a world that hosted a century-long war. It was a mysterious place — dangerous, it seemed — with the indignation of unseen figures creeping in the shadows cast by every crevice the world could offer.

The land was vast and mostly barren ahead, glacial and frozen over with the bitter cold that seemed to have dominated this area for millenniums, stretching almost endlessly toward the end of the world with its hills of white nihility being the only change noticeable apart for some trees that were mere outlines in the far-off fog. Snow descended in alluring flakes here, with white-toothed mountains extending gloriously across the distant horizon, tall enough to scrape the underbellies of the darkened clouds. Most of the evergreens grew tall, luxurious and lively under their coats of white, and the wind aggressively pushed through the trees, wailing its ice-tipped cry and blowing at the pace of a thousand storms. The air was tinted in a soft blue that signaled night may have been falling above the boundless forest, but he couldn't tell for sure.

Light Steve shivered as he grudgingly moved forward, watching his steps carefully while trying to keep himself awake. Trudging through the heavy blanket of snow was like trying to wade through tar-topped quicksand, and he had to feel with his numbed feet the ground below him to make sure he didn't catch a hole. He visibly shook, clutching the loosened wrinkles of his jacket, pulling them tight against him as sharp quivers painfully stung his body.

He felt himself going numb, and he stumbled atop the frosty ground as he desperately tried to keep himself upright. He was tired from wandering several long days across the wasteland the world had become over the last several decades, walking aimlessly in a direction that led who knows where and running when even the slightest threat became present. Staying awake for so many hours and eating so little was practically killing him. The thought of stopping to rest and perhaps eat what little food he had left with him purged his his mind, but he knew that he had to keep going. Though he was not well-dressed for this type of weather, he knew that he couldn't stop. These were the perfect temperatures for hyperthermia to set in as quickly as a crow's calling, and though he should be pushing himself more – skipping through the snow, perhaps sprinting at a slow pace – the motivation and energy to even stay awake was stretched to the thinnest strand possible.

Light blinked and found himself collapsing into the snow, faceplanting into a white sheet that immediately ate away at his reddened face. He managed to look up, seeing nothing but the covering of snow, the blackened silhouettes of trees and a darkened sky that dropped flakes of bitterness through the tiny holes in the woods' canopy. He could feel himself breath heavily as he tried to lift himself back up, but if his efforts were fruitless. He continued to stare ahead, waiting for any sign of worn-out energy that may prove useful.

Perhaps he had traveled too far north or south, and perhaps his aimless wandering had led to his death. He looked back on memories, thinking of his friends and the good times he had had through his life — the adventures with Louis, training with General Proxima, the chaotic nature of Cliff, the sweet company of Snowy and the perceptively-intelligent spider, the short-lived time with Soren. The memories of a lifetime lost long ago brought tears to his eyes. He thought of Rainbow Steve and Sabre with icy streaks rolling down his face.

He couldn't continue anymore. This was where his story ended. He was going to die here — he was going to die alone in an arctic desert far from the makeshift home he embraced in a world he grew to hate, with no one around for thousands of blocks to help him. Snow would bury his body as quickly as a flower bloomed when the sun rose over a valley, where he'd be unlucky to never see another trace of light once he closed his eyes. He let out a small whine, his body, freezing and saddened by the thought of death, trembling.

He thought about what would happen to him after death. The First Curse wouldn't allow him to live peacefully in whatever World Beyond was left in this universe, and one of the Soul Eater's minions would perhaps find his body and use it for who knew what. He never had the chance to say goodbye to his friends, and he was guilty of that. If the Professor really could track him through the rod in his leg, perhaps he would know where he was, but it wasn't like he'd care enough to find him, especially considering how far away he was. Light was, however, at peace with his success in leaving – at why he left in the first place. If he truly did die here, then so it be. He couldn't hurt them, his presence was no longer a threat.

He closed his eyes, his final tears rolling down his numbed face as he felt the heavy weight of the snow covering his limp body. He smiled briefly and gave in to the darkness that began to surround him, but he found himself stuck listening to the environment that encompassed him.

Footsteps were distant, but soon grew close enough to merely be heard. Stuck in his mind, he winced at the thought that it could be one of the Soul Eater minions, who would turn his body into one of them and boast to his former allies that the embodiment of light had been defeated. He felt tired in his head, and found himself beginning to lie down on the cold, black floor of the void he was in, giving in to whatever fate had planned for him.

He was being picked up. Freezing hands burned through his clothes, provoking his ribs and the underside of his knees, carefully wrapping around him like tentacles. As he drifted off to sleep, he could feel the frigid, rough texture of metallic armor pressed against him, worn from what could be imaged a long, brutal battle. He lost consciousness yet smiled to himself – though he couldn't tell who had ahold of him, he found solace in knowing that he had been found by a presence that was nothing like the soulless minions.