I still remember that day.
The sky churned with swirling snowflakes, like countless white birds shedding wings. They blanketed the view in a dizzying flurry.
Bright lights shimmered all around. Ethereal white shadows floated in my vision, drifting dreamlike—near, then far. The winter wind howled like wolves, slicing through my body like icy needles to the bone.
Young Celia huddled in her mother’s arms. The jolting carriage trudged through the snow-choked forest, horses straining with each uneven step.
“Mom,” the girl whispered, lifting her face. Her innocent features were etched with sorrow far beyond her years. Tears glistened in her eyes. Her rosy cheeks had turned deathly pale from the cold, pitiful to behold. Yet what shattered hearts most was the raw despair and fear in her gaze. “Will we die?”
“No,” her mother murmured, stroking Celia’s small head. Her palm glided gently over the girl’s soft, pale-blue hair. A warm smile graced her lips—not the look of a fugitive, but of a mother on a leisurely outing with her beloved daughter. “Celia will grow up safe… slowly blossoming into a beautiful woman. Then, I’ll take her strolling through the streets of the North. Let all the young men see just how lovely my Celia is…”
“Mom…” Celia buried her face in her mother’s chest, a small, animal-like whimper escaping her. “Hic… hic…”
Soft sobs shook the girl’s tiny frame.
Her mother pulled her close, lips brushing Celia’s ear. “Don’t worry. Mom will protect you.”
* * *
Cold. Despair.
The young girl crawled on the snow, staring at her mother’s body lying still. Crimson flowers bloomed beneath her. No tears fell. Her heart felt eerily calm. Mom was only sleeping. If she just reached out, tapped her arm gently, she’d wake as always, stroking Celia’s cheek.
Yes. She was only resting. I’ll wake her.
Celia inched forward through the pristine snow, numb to the cold. Her eyes fixed only on the path ahead—and her mother’s frail form.
Mom, get up. Lying in the snow will make you sick.
Her body felt lifeless. Fingers clawed through soft snow, scraping against the muddy earth beneath. She dragged herself forward, inch by inch.
Vision blurred. Only the thought of moving ahead remained.
Until—her limbs froze, utterly immobile.
At last, her fingertips brushed her mother’s. Cold. Stiff. Lifeless.
“Mom…” A silent cry tore through her heart. Tears finally spilled, scalding hot, then instantly chilled in the frigid air.
That day, her world lost its light.
* * *
The next memory flared with roaring flames. A stranger’s face emerged in the firelight—a young boy’s.
“…”
He scratched his head awkwardly, words failing him. After a flustered moment, a girl beside him shoved him aside.
“Brother, move!”
“Little sister, don’t be afraid. No one will hurt you now.”
Even years later, Celia believed it was fate. In that snowstorm that stole everything, she lost all—but found the one who’d change her life forever.
* * *
“I have to go.”
Shirin’s voice held a quiet sadness. The prodigy mage, famed for her talent, was like a moth chasing light—restless, always seeking magic’s deepest truths.
She turned away, vanishing into the snow-laden cold. Only a blank-faced little girl and a waving boy remained.
The boy took Celia across countless lands. They witnessed seas of blooming jacarandas. They crossed nameless mountains where wind screamed and thunder roared.
She remembered him trekking tirelessly for her. Shielding her from storms. His silly, tender smiles.
A young girl’s first love began to bud.
She dreamed of him often. In her dreams, he rode a noble white steed, like a prince.
Later, she learned he truly was a prince.
“My name is Celia. Thank you… for everything.”
Years later, those were her first words to him. Beneath the grand, holy sunlight at Divine Grace City’s gates, she watched the noisy crowds fade. Then she turned away.
Later still, she heard he’d become emperor. Married… fathered two daughters.
Like scenes flipping past in a galloping ride.
Finally, when she’d let go of it all—his death reached her. By the time she rushed to Divine Grace City, even his body was gone. Only shattered palace ruins remained. And a cold-faced girl.
Suddenly, she wanted to weep.
In a daze, that girl’s face seemed to merge with her own younger self.
She decided to stay.
He’d saved her once. Now, she’d pull his daughter from sorrow—just as she’d been pulled.
* * *
“Celia, are you crying?”
“Yes. I am.”
A whisper to herself. In the deep darkness, Celia’s eyes snapped open. She’d fallen asleep with the little girls—but now, she stood trapped in this strange illusion.
“How cruel.”
Celia wiped her tears, smiling faintly at the endless void. Only a master could drag her here, into these vivid memories, nearly drowning her in them.
And she had no clue where her foe hid.
Even a girl like her had to tread with utmost caution.
“But since you used spirit magic instead of showing yourself… let me guess. Maybe your combat skills don’t match your mental power?”
She spoke to the empty dark, as if addressing someone unseen.
The world shattered like broken glass—
“Trying to trap me here?”
A smirk curled Celia’s lips. Her spirit power coalesced into a massive shield, guarding her entire body.
Yet the next instant, the world spun violently.
“When did you—”
That final thought flickered. Then Celia plunged into profound darkness.
