Enchanted Forest.
💮F4UR YEARS AGO💮
The ghosts of the past lingered in every heartbeat, urging me forward into the unknown. I don't remember when the war started, but I could hear my heart beating-each thud hard, deliberate, as if my heart had learned to keep pace with the violence. Breath crystallized before me, small clouds of heat stolen by the icy winter air, and the shadows of those who ran beside me morphed and twisted, slipping into the darkness as we pressed on. The pulse in my neck matched the distant artillery I could not hear but could feel in every trembling branch, every shattered remnant of peace beneath the snow.
Winter's hold on the land was brutal-sharp and unforgiving. It stretched its pale, skeletal fingers across the world, a canvas of white and gray beneath the heavy black sky. My body burned from the inside out, fire and ice locked in battle under my skin, and I could feel every inch of it-my muscles tight, my breath short and ragged as the cold threatened to steal everything away. But nothing could douse the urgency that roared in my chest, an engine pushing me toward whatever came next.
The skeletal trees reached for us, their crooked limbs forming a jagged silhouette against the flat expanse of snow. Every step felt like breaking glass-crunching beneath boots that had long lost any warmth. The air was still but pregnant with something dangerous, something that curled in the silence between us and the world.
They couldn't have gotten far from the village.
Mara's bow creaked as she slowed, drawing an arrow. I didn't see the man before her, but I heard the sickening thunk as the arrow sliced the air, finding its target. He dropped ahead of me, a bundle of wool and flesh collapsing in a heap, the noise swallowed by the wind. Instinct took over, my fingers tightening around the haft of my axe, the cold bite of its weight familiar, its purpose singular.
I didn't hesitate.
The swing came from my shoulders, the blade whistling as it cleaved through the frigid air. The impact against bone and flesh was jarring, a crunch that traveled up my arms as I hit the man square in the face. His skull gave way with a dull crack, his body slumping, collapsing into the snow, staining the ground with wet crimson. I felt the sting of cold seep into my knees as I dropped low, sliding across the ice, wrenching my axe free from the ruin of his skull.
I had no time to savor the moment.
Around me, the others moved like a machine, every motion deliberate. Zen was a blur of movement, her hands finding another man's throat, slicing through flesh as easily as one would cut a rope. Blood sprayed in a thin mist, caught in the wind, disappearing into the cold before it even hit the ground. My axe was heavy in my hands, the weight a comfort as I swung it upward, just in time to meet the descending blade of a man who had been waiting for me.
Time slowed.
I slid between his legs, my knees skidding across the ice, the friction so sharp I felt it burn through the leather of my boots. I twisted, the movement natural, ingrained from years of battle, and brought my axe up with a savage grunt. The blade found purchase in his back with a sickening thud, the man convulsing as I rose, wrenching the weapon free before swinging it again-this time aimed for his neck.
The gurgling sound that followed was all too familiar.
"Brother!"
