Aoleria had sealed the last fragment of her heart in frost. No warmth, no love remained within her—only a cold resolve to protect her people. She was no longer merely a queen; she was the embodiment of destiny carved from ice.
Zytherion, however, was unraveling. His obsession had twisted beyond love into pure hatred. He knew he had lost her, but he could not let go. In his mind, there was only one truth left: if he could not claim her, he would destroy her and everything she ruled.
From the depths of the dark forest, a tide of mist surged, swallowing the borders of Aoleria's palace. The White Dwarves stood firm with shields raised, while the Wild Butterflies filled the sky like a storm of living jewels. Yet this time the enemy was stronger. Zytherion had summoned every ounce of his ancient might, his army swollen with the dead, the beasts, and spirits of pure shadow.
Aoleria rose from her throne, clad in frost-forged armor, her wings unfurled. She turned to her people and spoke one last time:
"Today may be our final battle. But know this—darkness will never claim our hearts. Even if I fall, you will carry the light."
The dwarves roared, the butterflies lit the night with their shimmering wings, and the storm of war broke loose.
The ground ran red and black, drenched in blood and shadow. Dwarves clashed with the Undying, their axes shattering bone. Shade Beasts tore through ice walls, while the butterflies shrieked as the corrupted spirits wrapped around them in choking smoke.
At the heart of chaos, Aoleria and Zytherion met once again.
But this time was different. Aoleria's heart was a fortress of ice. The fury and longing in Zytherion's crimson eyes could no longer sway her. Around them, the palace flowers burst into radiant colors—not from her love, but from her sacrifice.
"I know you no longer love me…" Zytherion spat, his voice burning with pain and fury. "But I cannot rest until I destroy you."
Aoleria closed her eyes, then rose into the storm with her wings spread wide. She summoned all her power into a single tempest. The sky turned white, the frozen blossoms shone like diamonds, and with one final cry, she unleashed the storm and drove Zytherion and his army back.
The dark lord roared, hurled into the abyss, but his eyes never left hers.
"Do not think this is the end…" he screamed. "Even if you destroy me, my soul will haunt you forever!"
Aoleria collapsed to her knees. She had won. But the last ember of her heart had been sealed in eternal ice. She was no longer just a queen—she had become the soul of an endless winter.