The snow intensified, as if winter sought to reclaim lost time in a single night.
At dawn, an elite Imperial detachment arrived at the ruins of the city ravaged by the wyvern. An officer clad in the black regalia of the Inquisition immediately approached a woman in an Imperial mage’s mantle.
“Status report,” Susie demanded coldly.
“The city is cordoned off. The perimeter is secure.”
“Good. You have your orders. Locate and incinerate the wyvern’s carcass along with anyone who came into contact with it. The Crystal Plague must not breach this sector.”
“By your command!” The Inquisitor offered a sharp salute and vanished.
“Hey, Susie! Get over here! You need to see this. I think I’ve found something,” shouted a heavy-armored Knight-Commander.
“Wayne? What could possibly impress me now? Don't tell me you’ve—” Susie paused. Emerging from behind the charred remains of a house, the flame-haired girl stepped into the church square, her Elite Imperial Mage insignia glinting proudly.
Susie froze. Her gaze, trained to dissect magical ley lines, faltered for the first time. It wasn't a battlefield; it was a macabre sculpture.
The gargantuan wyvern, encrusted with cold, shimmering violet crystals, was suspended ten meters in the air, impaled by dozens of silver spikes. These metallic shafts, shaped like elongated tears, had erupted directly from the cobblestones, punching through scale, spine, and skull.
“What in the...” Susie whispered. “What the hell is this?”
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Meanwhile, Violetta pushed through the snow-choked forest, her Visor guiding her vector. The wind had died down, and fat, heavy flakes began to spiral from the sky. Every step through the deep drifts was a battle of attrition. As she reached the forest's edge, several riders thundered past. She watched them disappear; one wore a cloak emblazoned with the Imperial crest.
“Bastards...” she hissed under her breath.
She adjusted the straps of her rucksack and pressed on. Reaching the crest of a hill, a vast, white wasteland unfolded before her. No signs of life for miles. A sudden gust kicked up, and from somewhere in the distance, a long, mournful wolf howl echoed through the void.
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By dusk, she reached a derelict village. Houses leaned at broken angles, their doors thudding rhythmically against the wind. Violetta found the most intact structure and climbed through a window. The interior was a shambles of splintered wood and debris.
Wild boars, likely...
She located the cellar entrance and descended.
“Might be warmer down here...”
She turned, and her gaze snagged on two silhouettes. Flicking her Visor to a different spectrum, she saw a mother clutching her infant.
“Sorry for the intrusion...”
Violetta found a moth-eaten rag and covered the remains of the two unfortunates. She huddled into a corner, wrapping her arms around her shivering frame.
So... cold...
Coiling her tail around herself like a fur blanket, she drifted into a fitful sleep.
In the dead of night, a vibration in her rucksack jolted her awake. She unzipped it, and the sphere floated out, hovering before her eyes.
“Greetings! The use of the scanning module caused a temporary system overload, resulting in an emergency shutdown.”
“Right. So... you're staying with me now?”
“Correct! As your assistant, I will remain operational to provide aid until your connection with the Ascari Empire is restored.”
“What exactly is the Ascari Empire?”
“The Ascari Empire is... WARNING! CONNECTION TO CENTRAL CORE LOST! My apologies, it appears I lack the data you require.”
“Of course. Fine, let’s make a deal. Stop trying to ping your 'Core' and use only your local database.”
“Understood. However, I advise against severing the link, as it may significantly decrease survival probability and the chance of Ascari reclamation.”
She didn't hear the sphere’s final words before falling back into sleep.
Morning greeted her with the howl of the gale and piercing cold. The sagging ceiling barely held back the blizzard clawing its way inside. Violetta slowly opened her eyes, tightening the grip of her tail around her body. Her limbs felt encased in ice, moving with agonizing sluggishness. But she was used to it—used to the pain, used to the frost.
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She looked at the corner where the mother and child remained frozen in their silent embrace. There was something profoundly bitter in that stillness, a silence that even death couldn't break.
The sphere flared to life, and data began to stream across Violetta’s cornea.
[SCAN COMPLETE. ANALYTICAL REPORT ATTACHED:] Subject 01: Human Female.
Age: Approx. 28 solar years.
Status: Biological death occurred approx. 92 hours, 17 minutes ago.
Primary Cause of Death: Hypothermia – critical drop in core temperature below 28°C.
Contributing Factors: Exhaustion, acute nutrient/hydration deficit (4–6 days), physiological stress.
Notes: Subject attempted thermoregulation via skin-to-skin contact with offspring. Death was likely delayed by insulation (clothing), but environmental variables proved fatal.
Subject 02: Infant. Human Female.
Age: Approx. 4–6 months.
Status: Biological death occurred approx. 90 hours, 55 minutes ago.
Primary Cause of Death: Hypothermia, complicated by cardiovascular arrest due to glucose deficiency.
Contributing Factors: Lack of maternal milk; mother lacked physiological capacity for lactation (starvation/dehydration).
Parameters: — No signs of kinetic trauma or foul play. — No detectable pathogens or infections. — Low ambient temperature has resulted in partial tissue preservation.
Conclusion: Subjects expired during a survival attempt in critical cold/famine conditions. Maternal behavioral patterns indicate an instinctive protection of the offspring until the terminal moment. Emotional Classification: Act of Sacrifice.
Recommendations: — Interment currently non-viable due to permafrost. — Alternative: relocation to a thermal zone or formal decommissioning (parting ritual). — WARNING: Preservation state will degrade within several days regardless of temperature.
Report Terminated. “With your permission, I am activating Stealth Mode. Luminosity dimmed.”
Violetta wanted to bury them. It felt like the right thing to do... but how? The storm raged outside, the ground was stone-hard, and she had no tools. She simply looked at them and whispered:
“Poor souls... I’m sorry.”
She scavenged the house, finding a small bundle of rags in a corner. Old, moth-eaten clothes, but better than nothing. She wrapped herself in layers, bound her feet, and forced on her battered boots. The frozen fabric crunched as she pulled it tight.
The sphere floated silently, adhering to their nightly agreement.
“You remember what I said, right?” Violetta muttered, not looking at it.
“Affirmative. Autonomous database only. I will not initiate Core uplink without a direct command.”
“Good. You’re exhausting enough as it is,” she grumbled, pulling a final rag over her shoulders.
The wind paused for a heartbeat, leaving behind a heavy, stagnant silence. Violetta opened the door and stepped into the snow. A gust immediately slammed into her face, but she closed her eyes and took the first step.
Before her lay the road—white, hollow, and hostile.
“Forward,” she whispered to herself. “Just keep moving.”
The snow crunched underfoot like the earth itself was whispering secrets of the forgotten and the frozen. She marched on, swaddled in rags, ignoring the frost biting into her skin. Her Visor pulsed with a dim violet light in her right eye. The sphere glided beside her, nearly silent.
“Scan complete. Survival probability in current conditions is trending downward. Recommend seeking shelter, thermal source, or—”
“Shut up,” Violetta whispered. “I don't want to hear about percentages right now.”
The sphere paused, went dark, and seemed to hover a bit lower, almost as if sulking.
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A black silhouette appeared on the horizon—a lopsided windmill standing in the field like a ghost of the old world. Violetta stopped, leaning her back against the thin trunk of a frozen tree to gauge the distance.
“Scanning terrain...”
Object: Abandoned structure.
Potential Shelter: Confirmed.
Biometrics: No thermal signatures detected.
“Perfect,” she whispered and moved on, leaving a spectral trail of footprints that the snow immediately erased.
Inside the windmill, the air reeked of ancient mold and rotted wood. The walls were latticed with cracks, and the roof... the roof had long ago surrendered its battle with the sky.
Violetta sat on a pile of decayed hay, pulled off her boots, and checked her feet. Her skin was crimson-blue, but unbroken—her Ascari body could endure far more than a human’s. Yet the pain was very real.
“Sphere,” she said aloud, “how long can I last without a heat source?”
“Based on current physiological analysis: approximately 8–12 days. Current specs are insufficient for long-term extreme environment exposure, as you have not reached the final developmental stage. Functional efficiency will degrade daily.”
“Fine. Then I need to find something...”
Suddenly, a movement in the corner. A rustle. Then another. Violetta was on her feet in a flash, several metallic needles materializing and hovering behind her back. The sphere flared with light.
“Unknown object. Thermal signature: Present. Probability: Small mammal. Threat Level: Minimal.”
“Meow!” From the shadows, an old, skeletal cat crawled out.
Its fur was matted into clumps, its eyes cloudy, one sealed shut with grime. It looked at her and didn't run; it just let out a thin, weak cry.
“You scared the hell out of me...” Violetta sat back down and reached out. The cat didn't move. When she touched it, it was cold but alive. She carefully scooped the animal up, pressed it to her chest, and sat back in the hay. “Don't you dare die. At least with you, it’s not so lonely...”
The cat didn't answer. It just curled onto her lap, tucked its paws, and began to purr—a low, mechanical thrum working against all odds.
“Maybe you're my companion, huh?” she whispered. “Like that sorcerer from the old tales. Exiled, cold, but with a fire inside.”
“Would you like me to assign a designation to your new companion?” the sphere chimed.
“No need. I’ll name him myself.”
She looked at the cat for a long time. Then, through the howling wind, she whispered:
“Nyavchik. You’re Nyavchik. Because you scared me with that 'Nyav' of yours.”
At that moment, the storm peaked outside. But inside the windmill, it was almost quiet. Only the beat of a heart, the purr of a cat, and the floating sphere. And beyond the walls—a massive world full of cold, pain, and danger.
The path hasn't even truly begun, and I'm already on the edge of life and death. But what choice is there? Give up? No. Not after everything I’ve been through: Death, God, Reincarnation... Goblins... To just roll over and die now?! No. I will find the answer to what I am.
She hugged the cat tighter, covered it with her tail, and slowly fell asleep.
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