The dawn spilled over snow-capped peaks, stretching golden shadows across the valleys and painting the frozen ridges with hues of fire and gold. The air was crisp, scented with pine and the breath of freshly fallen snow.
To the east and north, the majestic Hima Mountains stood like eternal sentinels, their crowns lost in the clouds, guardians of forgotten secrets and treacherous paths whispered only in legends.
To the west, the Sahora Desert stretched endlessly—an ocean of burning sands, beautiful in its desolation, merciless in its test of human will.
To the south lay the vast Indiana Sea, its tranquil surface concealing currents that could swallow ships whole, and beneath them, creatures too ancient for mortal memory.
And at the heart of these natural citadels—mountains, sands, and seas—rested the Silver Heaven Region. A land both fragile and unyielding, spoken of in hushed reverence as humanity's beacon of survival. Rising proudly within it, like a jewel of defiance against the world's cruelty, stood Silver Heaven Town—the cradle of hope, where humanity's future was destined to be forged.
**********
The market shimmered under the glow of lanterns, every snowflake catching the light as if the heavens themselves had scattered jewels upon the earth. The air carried the mingling aroma of roasted chestnuts and sugared dumplings, the sounds of bells chiming in time with laughter and music.
A young man stood waiting outside a women's clothing store, breath curling like ghostly wisps in the frigid air. His long black winter coat shielded him from the cold, a blue-striped muffler wrapped snugly about his neck.
Still, his hands burrowed deep in his pockets, fists clenched against the chill—and perhaps against his own restless thoughts.
The shop doors parted, spilling golden lamplight onto the snow, and a woman stepped out. Her brown fur coat framed the brightness of a yellow dress, her pink muffler clutched against the winter breeze.
"Shaun, honey," she said softly, lifting the dress toward him. "Would this look good on me?"
Her voice dispelled the cold as if the world itself bent to her presence. At her call, the man's name at last became known—Shaun. And with her smile, his resolve weakened.
"Oh, Natasha," Shaun whispered, his heart unravelling with warmth. "You'd be beautiful in anything. But this… this would make the heavens envious."
Her cheeks bloomed with a delicate blush. She turned away shyly, her laughter trailing back into the store. Shaun watched her disappear into the crowd of silks and shadows, and for a moment, he felt the fragile thread of their lives in his trembling hands.
The festival around him blurred. Snow spiralled downward, glowing in the lantern light like falling embers. Each flake that landed on his coat seemed to whisper memories—childhood days in gardens, secret meetings beneath the banyan tree, the first time she dared whisper I love you though her voice quivered with fear. Each fragment returned to him, burning his heart with gratitude and guilt alike.
She gave up everything… for me. Her family, her rank, even her dream of the Imperial Army. And what have I given her, save for muddy fields and empty promises?
His reflection stared back from a frosted shop window: weary eyes, calloused hands, a man dwarfed by the shadow of his own inadequacy. The merriment of the market dimmed in his ears, drowned by the relentless drum of self-reproach.
But then, as though summoned by fate, light flared in the corner of his vision.
In the jewellery store's window, nestled among meaningless gems, lay a heart-shaped pendant of gold. Not gaudy, not ostentatious—but perfect. Its golden curve shimmered faintly, as though it held a life of its own. Etched into its surface was the letter N.
For Natasha.
The world seemed to hold its breath. Shaun stepped closer, eyes drawn to its glow. The pendant was more than a trinket—it radiated meaning, a vow made solid, a promise yet unspoken. For a fleeting instant, he thought he felt it stir, humming softly against the fabric of reality, as though it had been waiting—not for any man, but for him.
"Yes…" His breath clouded against the glass. "It was made for her."
The warmth in his chest surged, only to be crushed by the cruel certainty dangling beneath it: the price. The numbers were sharper than any blade. He fumbled at his pockets, felt the pitiful rattle of coins, and a bitter smile broke across his lips.
"Always out of reach."
He turned, footsteps heavy. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was the reflection of the pendant in the frost, glowing faintly like an ember refusing to die. Or perhaps it was Natasha's voice echoing within him, the woman who had sacrificed heaven itself just to walk beside him. Shaun closed his eyes. When they opened again, they burned with resolve.
"No." His voice was low, unyielding. "Not this time. That necklace is more than gold. It's her dream. Her happiness. Her forever. I'll get it—no matter what it takes. This anniversary will be different."
He pressed his fist against his chest, where determination throbbed louder than his doubts. In the reflection of the glass, the heart pendant glowed faintly, as though sealing his vow.
And beyond the lanterns, unseen by mortal eyes, the snow swirled strangely—eddies of white tracing patterns like ancient runes. For those with vision enough to see, it was not mere snowfall, but the whisper of destiny itself, spiralling into motion.
**********
Shaun's hand pressed against the jewellery store door, the brass handle cool beneath his fingers. The soft chime of the bell rang out as he pushed it open. For a heartbeat, the warm glow of lanterns and the sparkle of gems bathed him in light.
His lips curved into a quiet smile—he could already picture Natasha's eyes widening when he slipped the golden heart into her hands. But before he could take another step, the world unravelled.
The colours around him fractured, rippling like shattered glass before dissolving into pitch black. The warmth of the store, the bustle of the festival, the crisp bite of the winter air—all of it was gone.
"What…?!" His breath caught, panic clawing at his throat. "What is this? What sorcery is this!?"
Shaun turned in a frantic circle. The vibrant streets of Silver Heaven were no more. In their place stretched an endless void, vast and suffocating. The silence was so absolute it pressed against his ears, until his own heartbeat thundered like a war drum.
"Natasha…?" His voice cracked, hoarse with dread. "Natasha! Where are you!?"
He stumbled forward, calling her name, each step swallowed by nothingness. His voice echoed strangely—fading, then returning distorted, like a ghost mocking him. And then—
"Help! Someone, help me!"
The scream tore through the dark. High-pitched, desperate, raw with agony. Shaun froze. His breath hitched as the voice multiplied—women sobbing, children shrieking, men roaring in defiance before being cut short in bloodcurdling cries.
"Please, spare us! My children! Nooo!"
"Aaahhhhhh!"
The void trembled with anguish. The voices seemed to come from everywhere at once, yet nowhere at all, stabbing into Shaun's ears, digging into his chest.
"No…" His body shook as his fists clenched. "No, who's there?! Where are you?! Tell me where you are—I'll help you!"
He ran blindly, chasing echoes through the emptiness, but the dark gave no form, no path, only endless despair. The screams rose in pitch until they became unbearable—a symphony of suffering, each note sharper than blades.
Shaun dropped to his knees, palms clamping over his ears. His eyes squeezed shut as his body rocked against the weight of the unseen agony.
"Stop it!" he cried, his voice breaking into a raw plea. "Stop it, please! Someone—make it stop!"
The void pulsed once, like a living thing, and the cries fell into silence. But the silence that followed was worse—pregnant with menace, like a predator holding its breath before the strike.
**********
The screams that clawed at Shaun's mind faded, dissolving into an uncanny silence. He dared to open his eyes, lowering his trembling hands from his ears. His breath hitched.
"What the… Where… where am I?" His voice cracked in disbelief.
He stood in the Silver Heaven Market—yet not the one he knew. The cheerful chatter, the music of bells, the glow of lanterns—all gone. What remained was a hollow echo of life.
The stalls that moments ago overflowed with sweets and trinkets now stood abandoned, their wooden beams blackened and splintered. Torn awnings fluttered like funeral shrouds in the bitter wind. Burnt-out buildings loomed like spectres against a sunless sky, their windows yawning wide like empty eyes.
Shaun rubbed his chin, stumbling forward with hesitant steps. His sneakers echoed on the stone pavement, each sound unnervingly loud in the oppressive stillness.
"This… this is the market, isn't it?" he whispered. "I was just here… with Natasha. Just a minute ago, it was alive with people. But now…" His throat tightened. "…everyone's gone. What… what the hell just happened?"
A chilling breeze swept past, carrying with it the acrid stench of smoke… and something heavier. The white snow was stained crimson, streaked with trails that spoke of desperate struggles. Flickering remnants of festive lights cast eerie shadows that crawled across the ground—shadows that seemed too long, too alive.
Bodies lay strewn across the street. Some were burned beyond recognition. Others… frozen mid-expression, eyes wide, mouths forever screaming. Shaun's breath faltered. His hands gripped his winter coat, pulling it tight as if the thin fabric could shield him from the horror pressing in.
His foot struck something soft. He glanced down— a child's teddy bear, half-buried in the snow, soaked in red. His stomach lurched. His mind flashed back with stabbing clarity.
That same bear. He had seen it only hours ago, neatly perched in a shop window while strolling through the market with Natasha. She had even tugged on his sleeve, teasing that it was "too cute to leave behind."
His breath hitched. The blood drained from his face.
"Natasha…" His voice cracked, almost a plea. "Oh no… Natasha. Where is she?"
The wind whistled through shattered windows, carrying with it the metallic tang of blood. Each gust whispered like a dirge, gnawing at the edges of his sanity. The pounding of his heart grew louder, matching the rhythm of the silence.
But it wasn't the sight of death that tore him apart. It was her absence. Natasha's absence.
Shaun's chest tightened as the image of that teddy bear burned into his mind. Natasha's laughter, her gentle tug at his sleeve, her teasing words—it all clashed violently against the carnage before him.
His breath came in ragged bursts. His eyes darted wildly across the ruins, searching desperately, refusing to accept what he saw.
"Natasha!" he shouted, his voice breaking, echoing against the hollow shells of buildings. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over broken wood and lifeless limbs. "Natasha, where are you? Answer me!"
Snow crunched beneath his frantic steps as he tore down the market street, weaving between collapsed stalls and bodies. His muffler slipped loose, whipping behind him as if even the wind was dragging him back—but he didn't care.
"Please… please be safe," he muttered, half to himself, half to the heavens. "You promised… we promised we'd always be together!"
He shoved past an overturned cart, his eyes scanning every shadow, every crumpled figure. None of them were her. None had Natasha's delicate frame, her soft eyes, her warmth.
The further he ran, the louder his heart hammered, a deafening drum inside his chest. His cries grew raw, desperation shredding his voice.
"Natasha!"
But only the wind answered, carrying the faint smell of smoke and blood. Each unanswered call carved deeper into his chest, filling it with dread.
The festival lights, once radiant, now flickered weakly, mocking him with their dying glow. And in that flicker, his fear took shape—not of death, but of losing her forever.
**********
The ruined city stretched before him, a graveyard of ash and silence. Crimson stains marred the snow, the corpses of the innocent strewn like broken dolls across the charred remains of once-familiar streets.
Shaun pressed forward, though every step felt like dragging chains across the earth. His breath trembled, his heart clung desperately to the last flicker of hope guiding him through the wreckage. And then he stopped.
The air reeked of smoke and death as his eyes fixed on the skeletal remains of a collapsed clothing store—the same store where Natasha had vanished only moments ago. His stomach knotted. His pulse thundered in his ears.
"No… please, no…"
He forced himself closer, each step heavier than the last. Among the fallen, his gaze locked on a figure sprawled across the snow, her delicate hands clutching something all too familiar. A white dress. Cheerful flowers embroidered in red, yellow, and blue… now drowned in crimson.
Shaun froze. His breath caught in his throat. A violent chill clawed down his spine.
"That dress… Natasha was just holding this…"
The memory struck like a blade—the sparkle in her eyes, her shy smile as she showed him the same dress only minutes earlier. Now it was soaked in blood, crumpled against the lifeless figure on the ground.
His trembling hand hovered in the air, reluctant to confirm the truth. Terror gnawed at him, urging him to turn away, to let denial shield him. But something deeper—a merciless knowing—dragged him forward. With a trembling exhale, he knelt and turned the body over.
Time shattered. The world around him dissolved into silence, as though even the wind dared not intrude. On the ground before him lay Natasha—her face pale, her body limp, her light extinguished.
Shaun collapsed beside her, tears already welling in his eyes as his hands shook violently. He cupped her cheeks, the ice of her skin searing his palms, and bent low over her still form.
"Na… Natasha?" His voice cracked, barely a whisper, but the name tore from him like glass shredding his throat.
He gathered her gently into his arms, holding her close against his chest as if warmth alone could call her back. His vision blurred with tears, his sobs tearing through the silence.
"Natasha… please… don't do this to me. You can't leave me here. Not like this. Open your eyes—just once. Look at me… please." His pleas spilled into the void, met only by the hollow hush of the ruined streets.
The memories of their laughter, their stolen moments, their vows—mere hours ago—rushed back to torment him. The warmth of that morning's embrace now mocked him with its cruel absence.
Finally, drained, he lowered his lips to her forehead, leaving a trembling kiss that lingered against her cold skin. His tears fell freely, tracing down her still face.
"I love you, Natasha… for all eternity… and beyond."
He held her tighter, as though by sheer force of will he could anchor her soul back to him. But the silence remained unbroken, and the night pressed in with a suffocating finality.
**********
The once-vibrant marketplace now lay in smouldering ruins, littered with the husks of the fallen. The air reeked of blood and charred wood, its silence broken only by Shaun's sobs as he cradled Natasha's lifeless body in his trembling arms. His tears fell upon her cold cheek, each drop swallowed by the crimson snow beneath them.
Then— thud… thud… thud.
The stillness fractured. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed through the ruins, cutting through the smoke-laden air like a death knell. Shaun stiffened, his grief momentarily arrested as he lifted his head.
From beyond the veil of fire and ash, a figure emerged. A towering shadow, malformed and grotesque, crawled out of the flickering flames. Its outline warped in the shifting light, every step causing the earth itself to shudder.
Shaun's breath caught in his throat. His mind screamed at him to flee, yet his body remained rooted, transfixed by the monstrosity approaching him.
The creature stopped just before him. Its sheer size dwarfed Shaun, standing twice the height of any man. Two burning orbs—yellow and cruel—glowed like molten embers in its skull-like visage. An aura of suffocating death radiated outward, pressing against Shaun's chest like an iron weight.
Then his eyes fell upon the sword. Long and jagged, its edge was soaked in fresh blood that dripped steadily to the ground, steaming as it kissed the snow. Each drop fell with an almost ceremonial finality, like a grotesque heartbeat in the silence.
The creature leaned forward, lips curling into a hideous grin, revealing teeth as sharp as daggers. Its voice slithered through the air—a guttural growl wrapped in mocking laughter.
"Mmm… the despair," it hissed, savouring the taste of Shaun's anguish. "Your suffering ends now, mortal. Now… DIE!"
With a roar that split the still air, the fiend swung its blade. The motion was swift, a flash of steel crackling with dark energy that hissed and spat as it cut through the very air.
Shaun's heart seized. He clutched Natasha tighter, squeezing his eyes shut as the blade descended, his voice breaking in a desperate cry—
"No…!!!"
**********
"No…!!!"
With a violent jolt, Shaun's eyes snapped open, wide with terror. His chest heaved as though he had been running for miles, breath tearing from his lungs in ragged gasps. Cold sweat drenched his body, soaking through the sheets beneath him.
"Huff… huff… huff… What… was that?"
His trembling hands clawed at the blanket, gripping it as though it were the only anchor keeping him from being dragged back into the abyss.
Blinking rapidly, he scanned the dimly lit room—the modest walls, the familiar wooden beams overhead, the quiet hum of night beyond the window. He was home. He was safe. And yet—
His pulse thundered in his ears. The cries, the blood, Natasha's lifeless face, the monster's blazing eyes—they still lingered in his mind, sharp as broken glass.
He buried his face in his palms, sweat dripping through his fingers, and whispered hoarsely, almost afraid of the answer:
"Was that… just a nightmare? It felt… so real…"
**********