The silence was absolute, except for the cutting sound of the icy wind sweeping across the plain of the winter Eden. Snow particles floated slowly, suspended in the air as if time refused to move forward.
The frozen body of a woman, beautiful as the purest crystal, rested in an icy tomb with a veil of frost covering her face. Jiro stood, staring at that silent portrait of tragedy, unable to look away.
And then it happened.
The Hail King, Frost Delgard, slowly advanced toward her. His steps were heavy, and his silhouette loomed through the winds that were beginning to die down.
His glacier sword dragged a blue trail behind it, but he did not raise it. His eyes, once filled with murderous instinct, now vibrated with something else… something human.
—Do you see it, Frost…? —murmured Elliott with a wounded voice, kneeling in the snow, his body trembling from open wounds— She would've never wanted to see you do this… she would've never forgiven what you've become…
Frost stopped cold. His breath was icy, like the heart of a mountain. His gaze locked onto the frozen body of Lorraine. The woman he once loved, protected, and had now failed.
Suddenly, a deafening roar echoed through the valley.
—HOW DARE YOU DEFILE MY LORRAINE'S BODY?!
His fury exploded, shattering the snow around him into shards.
With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he was ready to unleash a massacre, to turn everyone present into eternal statues of ice. But then, a tremor ran through his body. The steel helmet covering his face slid off and fell to the ground with a dry thud.
His exposed face was the very image of pain.
The tears streaming from his eyes were not water... they were crystals. Frozen, sharp, lifeless. His nose began to bleed, scarlet drops falling onto the white snow as if the ice itself wanted to remember warmth once existed.
—Why… am I bleeding…? —he whispered. His voice was that of a lost child, not a tyrant.
Inside his chest, Frost's heart was a pale stone, chained by frozen pine roots. It did not beat. It was the symbol of his curse: the inability to feel, to cry, to love.
The one who was once a prince had lost his soul during the 150 years of cultivation in the arts of Chi Tae, twisting his spirit until it became inhuman.
And then Ardan stepped forward. His wise eyes shone with resolve. From his palm emerged an ethereal tether, a spiritual chain that shot like a beam of white light into Frost's chest.
The Hail King barely reacted.
—What are you doing, Ardan? —asked Jiro, alarmed.
—Just… locking him briefly… inside his own memories —Ardan replied— It won't last long. We need to come up with a plan to get out of here.
Everyone nodded. Elliott collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
And in Frost's mind, everything turned to darkness.
150 years ago…
Edwert Eden. The land was fertile, the weather warm. But beneath its beauty burned a hidden disease: fanaticism. Religion dictated everything, and magic was sin.
A crowd filled the kingdom's main square. Thousands shouted with hatred. In the center, on a wooden platform, a young woman trembled. Her brown hair, clothes in tatters, and dark eyes reflected a fear so pure that even the sky seemed to weep flakes of ash.
An executioner with a black sack over his head held the rope. Vivian, bound at the neck, stood on a wobbling stool.
—That witch deserves to burn —shouted a woman in the crowd.
—Hang her already! —howled a man.
Vivian cried.
—I… I didn't do anything wrong… you're mistaken! —she sobbed— I only… only healed the children at the orphanage… I would never hurt anyone…
The shouts grew louder, the insults a rain of acidic hatred.
A priest in a white robe with golden trim approached. Around his neck, a cross gleamed in the sun.
—You have sinned, witch… You used demonic arts on the Lord's children!
Vivian could barely breathe. Among the crowd, some children cried and screamed:
—Sister Vivi, nooo! Let her go! She healed us!
A nun violently covered their ears.
—Don't listen to that creature. She's the devil's child!
Vivian murmured, like a sigh wishing to shatter the heavens:
—Why… do they hate us… just for being born this way…?
The priest raised his hand. The executioner got ready.
—God, have mercy… —Vivian cried out as the ground beneath her vanished.
The snap of the rope was drowned by the savage joy of the crowd.
She writhed. Her feet searched for ground. Her hands clenched. Her eyes looked to the sky, hoping someone —anyone— would stop the madness.
No one did.
The execution ended.
A clean cut.
Vivian's head fell and rolled, as if death itself played with it.
—May God do His will —said the priest— and rebuke the soul of this sinful woman.
The people celebrated. They laughed, clapped… joyful. Ignorant.
The head was placed in a box.
From the top of a tower, King Delgard watched everything. Dark. Cold. Proud.
A servant approached.
—Your majesty… Prince Frost has just returned from his journey with Princess Liliana…
—Perfect. Receive them. I don't want them seeing the commotion outside.
—Yes, your majesty.
A white carriage, drawn by majestic horses, crossed the kingdom's streets. Inside, a young man with an elegant sword observed the turmoil.
Frost Delgard, arrogant, with an air of superiority, frowned.
—What vulgarity is this…? What's happening here?
—Must be another execution… another witch —answered Princess Liliana indifferently, a young woman with peach-colored hair and sparkling jewels— They're as common as cockroaches here…
She sipped her tea with elegance.
The carriage continued, as the royal guard pushed the crowd aside to clear a path.
After a long two-month journey to the neighboring Kingdom of Halderon, Frost and Liliana finally returned home: the castle of Delgard. The white marble towers and the golden flags waving in the breeze welcomed them with familiar majesty.
On the throne, King Delgard waited. His royal robe—a garment embroidered with golden threads and adorned with ancestral symbols of the lineage—covered his sturdy body, while his crown, with an ancient and solemn design, rested firmly on his head, radiating authority.
The King, who until then remained still and observant, stood up with a calm sigh and a restrained smile. His steps echoed softly through the hall like gentle thunder, and when he approached his children, he wrapped them in a warm embrace.
—My children... —he said with a deep and nostalgic voice— How was your trip? Did you enjoy it? What have you learned?
Frost was the first to answer. He crossed his arms, with a haughty, uninterested but proud expression.
—It wasn't that bad, honestly... Although, well, it was kind of boring too, that can't be denied. —He shrugged indifferently— So I enjoyed training with the sword with Fred... He's the best, Fred.
The King furrowed his brow slightly. Although his face showed no annoyance, his mind was saying:
This boy... what am I going to do with him?
Then he turned to his daughter, his eyes shining with appreciation.
—And you, Liliana? How did you find the trip? I'm sure you learned many things, right?
Liliana, with a refined bearing, answered sweetly:
—I thought it was an excellent trip, father. I learned a lot about Halderon's culture. We visited beautiful cities and I also brought many gifts.
—I even learned a bit of their language.
The King laughed proudly.
—That's my daughter! As intelligent and wise as her father...
Frost, outraged, protested.
—And what about me? Aren't you going to give me any compliments?
The King made a forced approving gesture.
—Yes, Frost... you're also a big deal.
But in his mind, his thoughts burned:
I can't believe this fool is the heir to the throne...
Days passed, and everyone resumed their routines. Fred, the loyal knight, trained in the royal courtyard, where fruit trees spread shade and sweetness.
Under their eternal branches, Liliana leafed through a golden-bound book, while the wind's murmur danced among the leaves like whispers of a forbidden time.
The table beside her was decorated with the delicacy only a refined soul would appreciate: handcrafted pastries, cookies shaped like stars and moons, a steaming jar of tea, perfuming the air with notes of jasmine and honey.
It was a serene scene, but not empty. Because in that kingdom, beauty did not escape the weight of history. And the tree, silent sentinel, seemed to know truths no one else dared speak.
Centuries ago, the world had darkened not for lack of light, but for excess of fear. Magic, that primordial essence once a cause for wonder and reverence, was hunted, condemned, and demonized.
In the name of faith and purity, it was declared that every magical act was a sin, a blasphemy that distanced the soul from divine grace. The Church of the Absolute Sun became humanity's new beacon, lighting the way with unbreakable dogmas and terrible punishments.
Those who manifested supernatural gifts were branded heretics, and their bodies offered to flames before crowds that confused justice with spectacle.
Thus, generation after generation, men forgot how to feel mana in the breeze, how to hear the echoes of the invisible world. They became willing blind to an imposed truth. Magic was dying out. Or so they believed.
But silence is not forgetting, and what sleeps is not dead. In recent times, an anomaly began to manifest.
Among the whispers of distant villages, among the prayers of mothers mourning their missing daughters, an ancient fear began to grow. Because magic had not disappeared. It had only changed its skin. It became elusive, stealthy, and chose new heirs.
Women.
They, like Liliana, began to show signs. Not all. Some. But enough to awaken the echo of old terrors. They were called witches. Not with the respect wisdom deserves, but with the poison of ignorance.
They were called demons, temptations of flesh, bearers of chaos. It did not matter if they used magic to heal, to create, or to protect. In the eyes of the world, their very existence was a threat.
Men trembled not only for the power that was resurging but for losing the control they had held with religious chains for centuries. And so, the bonfires began again.
Public executions once more stained the earth with screams. But fire was no longer enough. Because what burned was not only flesh, it was the spirit of a new era that no one could stop.
And while Liliana read under that tree, without fully knowing why she felt so connected to that place, the breeze caressed her face tenderly, like a mother recognizing her daughter.
The tree, silent, seemed to slightly lower one of its branches toward her, as if waiting. As if it knew.
Because in the forgotten corners of the world, secrets still remained. And some, very ancient, were beginning to awaken.
Frost, meanwhile, continued training with Fred. The wooden swords clashed again and again. Frost, with swift movements, tried to reach his master's level. However, Fred, more agile and calculating, knocked him down with a flawless maneuver.
Frost fell to the ground.
—I can't believe it! I can never hit him!
Fred extended his hand with a smile.
—You've improved a lot, prince. If you keep training with discipline, you will go far.
Frost, catching his breath, smiled arrogantly.
—You're absolutely right, Fred. No one can match me in swordsmanship in this kingdom.
Fred let out a small nervous laugh, a drop of sweat on his forehead.
—Don't exaggerate either...
One night, Frost went alone to the castle's library. He carried a candle held in an iron stand. The library was an ocean of knowledge, and despite his arrogance, there was a secret place in Frost's heart that loved books.
Making sure no one saw him, he murmured:
—It's time to take advantage...
While searching among the shelves, he tried to reach a book high up.
—Come on! I can't reach it!
At that moment, he lost his balance and a cascade of books fell on him.
—Ouch! I hate being so short!
Then something strange happened. A red book, with a round design and a golden lotus flower on the cover, fell on his head.
—What do these books have against my head?!
Curious, Frost took it. The tome was strange, with an ancient aura. He flipped through it with disdain.
—Chi Tae... What is this?
Inside were ancient illustrations: a man meditating, with a point of light on his forehead and a symbol on his chest.
A force beyond Mana, Ki, and Chakra... Chi Tae is the all and superior to these.
Frost scoffed.
—What a stupid and childish book... I'm not going to read it...
But minutes later, he had it open on a table, absorbed. The text gripped him completely:
The Divine Sages of the 12 Heavens of Creation... creators of the primordial dragons... Chi Tae is the oldest energy in the universe...
He who masters Chi Tae will transcend... become a Divine Sage... surpass the laws of the universe itself...
And just as he was about to continue... the pages were torn out.
—What?! That's it?! Just at the best part!
Annoyed, he got up and went to sleep. But while looking at the ceiling, he couldn't get what he read out of his mind.
—The arts of Chi Tae... a force greater than magic... what nonsense...
However, his gaze remained distant... and deep down, a spark of curiosity had been born.
The next morning, Frost rode alongside Fred and four knights toward the forest, armed with swords, ready for a day of monster hunting.
—Hey, prince... why hasn't your sister joined us?
—Oh, well, you know how she is... she says killing monsters ruins female beauty or something like that...
Fred nodded.
—Typical of the princess.
The forest enveloped them with its mystical fog. Mushrooms glowed under the shadows and branches creaked under their steps.
—Don't stray too far, prince —Fred warned.
—Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself.
Then, the monsters appeared. Deformed beings with whips of flesh on their bodies. Swords raised. Frost, full of zeal, fought with agility and precision. With every slash, he showed his progress.
After defeating them, Fred approached.
—You shouldn't wander off...
—I'm not a baby!
Frost walked away, frustrated. Fred put a hand to his forehead.
—What are we going to do with you, prince...?
Frost walked up a hill. From there, he saw a village in the distance.
—A village of commoners... how boring.
Suddenly, a roar.
A monster charged him from behind. Frost tried to draw his sword, but he fell down the hill. He hit the ground hard. The monster approached. His consciousness faded.
And at the last moment... he saw a silhouette.
A girl.
Her eyes were red as fire.
And from her hands... she launched a bright fireball.