Snow.
It was the first thing Zenith noticed as the chariot rolled through the frost-lined gates of Shizuhara.
The sky hung low, heavy with pale clouds that threatened more snowfall. The breath of every passerby bloomed in the frigid air, dissipating into silence.
The Kingdom of Shizuhara was unlike the warmth of the Citadel. Every street was veined with ice. Stone rooftops wore crowns of frost. Soldiers patrolled in heavy white armor, their steps crunching on the frozen cobblestone.
Zenith tightened his robe around him. "It's freezing… feels like the air's biting me."
Suno's eyes scanned the streets. "This cold isn't natural. Shizuhara is temperate by nature — but this… this is something else."
Lithos stepped off the chariot, his talismans trembling faintly at his side. "I can feel it. The Flow here… it's sluggish, almost trapped in ice."
Hime's black eyes shifted toward the palace towering in the distance. "The city's heart has been bound. It's like someone wrapped the kingdom in a cocoon of winter."
Suno's tone grew grave. "Our intel says the opposing kingdom has been receiving aid from a powerful ice spirit — Yuki Ona."
Zenith tilted his head. "Never heard of her."
Shinsei's gaze turned sharp. "She's not a mere spirit. She's a phantom of the mountains, born from the breath of a dying snowstorm. And… she's no stranger to Shizuhara's Shogun."
The chariot rolled onward, drawing eyes from the crowd. Murmurs followed them — some curious, others fearful.
Raijin caught Zenith's shoulder. "Stay alert. If Yuki Ona's involved, the battlefield will be more than swords and steel… it'll be her domain."
The palace gates loomed closer, their iron surface crusted with frost.
And in the wind, faint and distant, a haunting voice seemed to hum — soft, melodic, and full of longing.
The palace of Shizuhara was a monument of quiet majesty — silver banners hanging like icicles, intricate frost patterns crawling along the marble pillars. Servants moved like whispers, their eyes downcast, their steps perfectly in sync, as though even the sound of footsteps might shatter the fragile air.
The grand doors groaned open.
Inside, the audience hall stretched wide, its polished floor reflecting the glow of hanging crystal lanterns. At the far end sat the Shogun — Lord Akihiro of Shizuhara. His robes shimmered with threads of silver and deep blue, embroidered with the crest of a snow lily. His face was calm, regal, yet behind his eyes lingered something colder… and older.
Suno knelt first, followed by the rest. Zenith, unsure of the formalities, gave a half-bow that earned him a subtle elbow from Lithos.
Shinsei simply stood.
The Shogun's voice was low, but carried effortlessly across the hall.
"So, the Citadel answers my call." His gaze lingered on each of them, then settled briefly on Hime before moving away — too quickly to be casual.
Suno stepped forward. "We received word of the approaching war and the spirit aiding your enemies. We're here to ensure Shizuhara stands."
Lord Akihiro's expression didn't change. "Yuki Ona," he said, as if tasting the name. The air in the hall seemed to cool further. "A spirit whose beauty hides her cruelty. She was once… an ally."
Zenith frowned. "An ally?"
The Shogun's gaze turned away from them, toward a tall, frost-coated window. Snowflakes drifted lazily outside, catching in the light like fragments of glass. "Many winters ago, she saved my life. In time, she saved my kingdom. I… offered her my trust. My heart, even."
Lithos raised an eyebrow. "And now she wants to bury your land in ice?"
The Shogun's hands tightened on the arms of his throne. "I do not know why she turned. But she has sworn an oath — to plunge Shizuhara into an eternal winter. And she has the power to do it."
Suno glanced at Shinsei. The implication was clear — this wasn't just another battlefield. This was personal.
Hime, silent until now, finally spoke. "If she's bound by oath, then her will may be unshakable."
The Shogun's eyes met hers briefly — a flicker of recognition, then quickly gone.
A court advisor hurried into the hall and bowed deeply. "My lord! Scouts report the enemy has begun advancing toward the northern border!"
The Shogun rose. His presence filled the room like the rising wind before a blizzard.
"Then we have no more time for talk. Citadel warriors — you will march with my army at dawn. And if you cross paths with Yuki Ona…" His gaze hardened. "…do not expect her to show you mercy."
The frost-laden doors shut behind them as they left the hall, the weight of the coming war heavy on their shoulders.
Zenith tightened the strap on his katana.
"She's his past, huh?" he murmured.
Lithos gave a faint nod. "And maybe… his weakness."
Somewhere far in the mountains, a woman in flowing white stepped barefoot across the snow, her breath forming a perfect halo in the freezing air. Her eyes, clear and cold, gazed toward Shizuhara.
Yuki Ona smiled.
Shizuhara Palace – East Garden Pavilion
Snow dusted the tiled walkways, though the frost never touched the warm lantern light spilling from the covered corridors. Zenith sat cross-legged on a wooden bench beneath the pavilion roof, his sword leaning against the post beside him. His torso was still wrapped in fresh bandages, the linen peeking out from under his open robe.
"I told you not to move around too much."
The voice came from behind. Hime walked toward him carrying a small lacquer tray, steam curling from a porcelain teacup. She knelt gracefully, setting it in front of him.
Zenith blinked. "Tea? For me?"
"It'll help you recover faster," she said softly, her black eyes glinting in the lantern glow. "You burn through your strength too recklessly. I can feel it."
Zenith gave a crooked smile. "Guess my flow talks too much."
Hime chuckled lightly. "Only to those who listen." She reached for his sleeve before he could react, gently untying it to check the bandage at his shoulder. Her fingers were warm despite the chill in the air.
"Still holding," she murmured. "But you should rest more. Fighting with wounds is like drawing water with a cracked jar."
Zenith found himself staring at her face — not the careful, composed expression she usually wore, but the way a single strand of hair fell over her cheek, the subtle worry in her eyes. He quickly looked away before she noticed.
"You're… really good at this," he said.
"I've had to take care of myself for a long time," Hime replied, smoothing the linen back into place. "And now… maybe someone else, too."
Before Zenith could ask what she meant, footsteps and chatter approached from the courtyard.
"Oi! There he is, playing injured prince again," Raijin called out with a smirk, a skewer of grilled meat in his hand.
"Playing?" Ayame scoffed, trailing behind him with her arms crossed. "He's milking it. I can tell."
Ishiguro strode in, his massive frame blocking the wind for a moment. "At least he's alive. That demon's spear would've split most people in two."
Ranka appeared at Lithos's side, both of them carrying small parcels. "We brought supplies from the kitchens. The Shizuhara cooks think our training diets are 'too plain.'"
Lithos dropped the bundle beside Zenith. "Eat. Then maybe you'll stop looking like a stiff breeze could knock you over."
Zenith raised a brow. "You people sure know how to make a guy feel cared for."
Raijin grinned. "We're just here to see if Hime's 'secret tea' is better than the sake the Shogun offered."
Hime shot him a cool glance. "It's not for you."
The group broke into easy banter, but Zenith's gaze drifted once more to the woman seated beside him. She was sipping her own tea quietly, her eyes turned toward the snow falling in the courtyard.
For a moment, the sounds of laughter and teasing faded, and all he saw was the faintest smile curving her lips.
Shizuhara Palace – Moonlit Corridor
The palace had long fallen silent, save for the muffled rhythm of guards' sandals against stone. Moonlight spilled through the paper shoji doors, painting pale rectangles across the polished floor.
Zenith sat cross-legged on the tatami in his guest chamber, his robe draped loosely over his shoulders. His fingers brushed the edges of his bandages — they itched more than they hurt now.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Hm?"
"It's me," came Hime's voice.
He slid the door open. Hime stood there with a small lantern and a cloth bundle. She stepped inside, the faint scent of winter plum following her.
"I thought you might need a fresh wrap before you sleep," she said, setting the lantern down so its light fell between them.
Zenith chuckled softly. "You really don't need to—"
"I want to."
Her tone left no room for protest. She knelt before him, untying the knot at his shoulder. The linen peeled away, revealing the faint scar lines and bruises beneath. Her fingers were gentle, yet steady — the kind of touch that made him feel both exposed and… safe.
"You've healed faster than I expected," she murmured, tracing the edge of a scar before quickly pulling her hand back, as if realizing she'd lingered too long.
Zenith smirked faintly. "Guess your tea works after all."
She gave him a small, almost shy smile, then began wrapping fresh bandages around his torso. Her movements were precise, each loop snug without being constricting.
The silence between them wasn't awkward — it felt heavy, like words were unnecessary. But Zenith found himself breaking it anyway.
"You know… earlier, in the garden… when you said maybe you'd take care of someone else too…" He met her eyes. "Did you mean—"
Her hands paused mid-wrap. She didn't look away.
"I meant," she said softly, "that some people are worth staying for."
Before Zenith could answer, a loud thud echoed down the corridor, followed by Raijin's unmistakable voice.
"ZENITH! You awake? The Shogun's sending food to our quarters!"
Zenith sighed. "Saved by the loudmouth."
Hime's lips curved into a quiet laugh as she tied the final knot. "Rest, Zenith. The war ahead will take more than strength."
She gathered her things and stood, pausing at the door. The lantern light caught in her black eyes for a brief, lingering moment… and then she was gone.
Zenith sat there a while longer, the faint warmth of her hands still lingering beneath the bandages.