What was the Miter Empire famous for? Snow that came as habit, and white vistas that stole your breath like a held note on winter air.

Snow had fallen for a full week, a white drum that never stopped. In the border town, it lay almost a meter deep, a quilt weighed down with ice.

Walking on it was a battle through a field of feathers that turned to stone underfoot. Each step sank, each breath smoked like a chimney.

Behind shuttered doors, every house kept its fire like a red heart, guarding life against the blunt fist of nature.

Outside, the forests and plains wore the same burial shroud. From afar, city and wild blurred into one painting, inked in frost and light.

For the street crews, that beauty was a grindstone. Pretty scenes don’t shovel roads. Pretty scenes break backs.

Winona had been grumbling for three days, her voice like sleet against a window. Routine, routine, nothing but routine.

She dragged her feet through work with the lazy swing of a cat in sun. Vivian sighed first, helplessness pooling warm, then bent to scoop another sheet of snow.

Enchanted carriages kept thundering by like black beetles on a white table, their wheels carving trenches, their speed kicking trouble back into the air.

“I can’t take it. What are these people doing, racing around in a blizzard? Don’t they fear dying under their own wheels?” Winona snapped, flinging her shovel so it thudded like a dropped plank, eyes narrowed at the flying carriage.

Vivian brushed the snow off Winona’s cap, a small mercy under a hard sky. “Can’t help it. Something’s up in the Empire. Even our little Moon City’s crawling with mages now.”

“Tch. A bunch of old fossils who only chant spells,” Winona pouted, lip a tiny flag of rebellion.

Amused and exasperated, Vivian pinched her cheek, warmth before scold. “Did you forget Dad’s a mage too?”

“Mm. Dad’s not like them,” Winona wriggled, pride and stubbornness cheek to cheek.

Vivian shook her head with a smile, then bent back into the slow rhythm of work, shovel biting light, breath a steady cloud.

Their father was a Level Five mage. Not bad talent. The Mages’ Association paid him enough to feed the house, a lamp that never quite went out.

Even so, the sisters chose not to lean on that lamp. They stepped into the cold to earn their own bread, their own heat.

The Empire lived in the jaws of winter. Even Moon City wore snow for a third of the year, a crown and a chain.

Snow crews were always short by a few hands. The sisters didn’t overthink it, just showed up with boots and grit.

“Winona, stay here a bit. I’ll head north,” Vivian called, worry flickering like a wick. Winona waved back, a mitten a small flag in the storm.

The north held the deepest drifts, a white sea pushing against the walls. From the battlements, Vivian looked down at the sight and felt a helpless tug.

“Hm? What’s that…” She narrowed her eyes, sight reaching like a bowstring.

Far off, several figures were sprinting for Moon City, dark brushstrokes on the white. Behind them, something rolled forward with avalanche hunger, chasing hard.

A thought struck, and her mouth twitched, dread before words. She hurried along the wall to a familiar face. “Uncle William, come with me.”

William had just raised a hand to greet her; her tone cut the gesture short. He followed to the other side, squinting into the distance. “What is it?”

While William studied, Vivian gathered herself. A thin green sheen lit her eyes like spring under ice. Shock widened her mouth, the words spilling cold. “That’s the Beastlord of North Mountain—the Demonic Brown Bear.”

“Huh?! Impossible. Isn’t that brute hibernating?” William’s doubt rumbled like a wary drum.

“I… I don’t know. But—you know my gift,” Vivian said, a touch of hurt first, then the steady lift of her chin.

William’s face set, iron under the frost. “I’ll inform the Lord of the City. Vivian, take this and warn the garrison.” He pressed a rune-etched token into her hand, then strode off, urgency like sparks in his wake.

Vivian’s gaze clung to the runners chased by the “brown bear,” worry like a bitten lip. She bit down harder, then dashed for the garrison, boots skimming over packed white.

The wind knifed the travelers’ faces, but the man at their center looked relaxed, calm as a lake under a storm. He showed no shame of flight, only purpose. He held two girls by the hands, one left, one right, and carried another slumped on his back, breath like a ghost.

Silver light flared under their feet, a thin bridge on air. They skimmed the crust of snow and didn’t sink, strides stitching a bright path across the white.

“D-damn Hero, who told you to poke it?” The girl on his left ground the words out between sharp breaths, lungs burning like hot iron in cold water. The long run chewed past her limits.

“Sis… I can’t,” the little girl on his right faltered, knees turning to water, the snow a bed calling her down.

Eli yanked her up and caught her against his chest, warmth before lecture. He glanced at Edlyn, who was panting hard, then simply swept her up too. One quick scoop, and both girls were locked to him, his arms iron bars under wool and fear.

“Training you a bit,” Eli said, humor a thin blanket over urgency. “And if someone’s getting grabbed, you save them, right?” He stamped once, right foot slamming, and flew over a hidden hollow. The little girl squealed, clinging to his head like a startled squirrel.

The left-hand girl pinched his cheek, fire flashing through frost. “You bastard Hero, did you do that on purpose? Trying to cop a feel off my little sister?!”

“Come on, Your Ladyship, this is what run-for-your-life terrain looks like. How’s that my fault?” Eli grimaced, but never broke stride. With three bodies wrapped to him, he vaulted drift after drift, swift as a hawk skimming snow.

“Roar!” The giant bear behind them bellowed, a mountain speaking, yanking their banter back to blood and breath.

Edlyn shot it a glare, chin up like a drawn blade. “Stupid bear. What are you huffing at? At my peak, I’d boil you and still complain your meat’s too tough.”

“Aoo!” The bear sounded like it understood. It roared again, eyes washing red, speed surging like a river un-dammed.

Edlyn watched it grow larger, terror blanching her face like frost on petals. She crushed herself tighter to Eli’s chest. “Waaah, damn Hero, run faster!”

Eli shook his head with a helpless half-smile, fondness before rebuke. You had to rile it, didn’t you? You scolded me earlier, then went and poked the beast. He didn’t slow. He flared his Battle Aura, a blue blaze under skin. He stamped on a glowing array, and they shot forward, a comet streaking over the snow.