The snow fell without haste, as if it had all eternity to cover the world.
The horses tired with each passing hour. Their hooves sank into the soft snow, raising clouds of white powder that clung to manes and blankets. The cold was dry, cutting, the kind that hurt the lungs with every breath.
I rode at the front, my hood pulled over my gold‑and‑blood hair. The sword at my waist tapped against my leg with every step of the horse. Helena, behind me, kept her hand on her weapon – an old habit, from the days she served the emperor. Luna, last, pulled at the reins with difficulty, her face pale, her eyes fixed on the horizon.
"How many hours?" asked Helena.
"Hours?" I did not turn. "Days. Maybe weeks. The snow slows everything."
"And your friend?" Helena pointed at Luna. "Will she hold up?"
"She will." My voice was dry, but not cruel. "She is Linda Lunos's daughter. The cold runs in her veins."
Luna did not answer. She only quickened her pace.
---
At the end of the day, we stopped in a clearing protected by tall pines. I lit a fire with a fire spell – a bluish flame that consumed little mana but gave enough warmth. Helena spread the blankets on the trampled snow. Luna sat on her knees, her hands stretched toward the fire.
"Zirinos," she called after a few seconds.
"Yes?"
"Why did you bring me?"
"Because you need to see your mother." I knelt beside her, took off my glove and warmed my hands. "And because I need someone who is not afraid of me."
"I am not afraid of you."
"You should be."
She looked at me. Her light eyes, where the fire reflected, did not waver.
"Maybe." She lowered her voice. "But I can't."
Helena, standing, watched the edge of the clearing. Her golden armour shone in the firelight.
"Your mother," said Helena without turning. "Linda Lunos. Is she a good ruler?"
"She is." Luna hesitated. "But she is tired. My father… Merius… does not help her."
"Your father?" I raised an eyebrow.
Luna did not answer. Her hands, stretched toward the fire, trembled – but not from the cold.
"It is heavy," I said quietly. "Keeping secrets."
"You keep many."
"I used to. Not anymore."
"Why?"
"Because the truth weighs less." I looked at the fire. "And because I have no one left to deceive."
Luna fell silent.
Helena approached and sat on the opposite side of the fire.
"Your world," Luna asked suddenly. "What is it like?"
"Different." Helena broke off a piece of hard bread. "Heat becomes power. Wars are fought over water, not land."
"And monsters?"
"There are monsters too. But the worst are men."
I almost smiled.
"In every world."
---
The next morning dawned grey, without sun.
The horses were restless. Snow had fallen during the night, covering our tracks. I used a clairvoyance spell – just a second, enough to see the trail of corrupted mana to the north. My eyes burned, but the vision was worth it.
"That way," I said, pointing.
"How much farther?" asked Helena.
"A day. Maybe less."
"What will we find?"
"A village." I sheathed my sword. "What remains of it."
---
We found the ruins at noon.
The village was called Valsgard, according to a broken sign at the entrance. The houses were still standing, but the doors were open and the windows empty. There was no smoke from the chimneys. No barking dogs. Only silence, and the smell of dry blood.
I dismounted. My hand on my sword.
"Stay here," I ordered Helena. "You, Luna, stay with her."
"Zirinos…" Luna began.
"Stay."
I went in alone.
The centre of the village was a dirt square, now covered in dirty snow. The bodies were arranged in a circle – men, women, children. Their faces, pale, frozen, eyes open to the sky. In the centre of the circle, a black flower. Trásserius.
I knelt. I used Clairvoyance again – my eyes burned, the image doubled, tripled. I saw the trail of corrupted mana leaving a child's body and stretching north, toward the mountains.
'Trussum', I thought. 'Or something worse.'
I put the flower in a cloth bag. I stood up.
"What did you see?" asked Helena when I returned.
"A trail. And a smell of sulphur."
"The demon?"
"The sacrifice. Trussum used these people to summon something."
"Summon what?"
"I don't know." I mounted my horse. "But we will find out."
---
The road north was steep, the trees sparser, the wind stronger. Snow now fell in thick flakes that clung to clothes and hair.
Luna, silent, stayed behind me. Helena, ahead, led the way.
"Zirinos," Luna called after a long time.
"Yes?"
"Fenísia," said Helena without turning. "Did you bury her?"
"I did." My voice was neutral. "In the grass, near the inn."
"Did you like her?" asked Luna.
"I did."
"Did she like you?"
"Yes." My voice faltered for a second. "But she died."
Luna did not ask further.
---
The shadow appeared at the edge of the village as the sun began to hide behind the mountains.
It was small, smaller than a man. Its eyes, red, shone in the half‑light. Its body, a shapeless mass of dark flesh and thin limbs, dragged itself on the ground like an animal.
"What is that?" Luna whispered.
"A demon," I replied, drawing my sword. "A pure one. Summoned by the sacrifice."
"Is it weak?" asked Helena.
"Weaker than a lord. But not for playing."
The demon advanced.
Its red eyes, fixed on me. Its body, dragging, left a black trail in the snow.
"Stay back," I ordered.
"No," Luna replied.
"Stay!"
"No." She drew her own sword – small, light, which she barely knew how to use. "My mother says the Lunos do not run."
"Your mother is not here."
"I am."
The demon attacked.