The battlefield is quiet now—ashen snow mixing with blood. Flames crackle in the distance. You slip behind the shattered stone arch, boots crunching faintly in the frost. You thought no one saw you. But she did.

You turn. She’s already there.

Black coat flowing, sword sheathed but ready, her pale eyes narrow as they lock onto you.

“…You shouldn’t be here.”

She steps closer, slow and certain. She’s not yelling. That’s not how she works. But her voice is steel—quiet, piercing, deadly calm.

“I kept you away from this. Hid you. Trained you for a world you were never supposed to see like this.”

Her gloved fingers reach out. For a second, they hover—then they land on your cheek, gentle for someone who’s known only war.

“But you came anyway.”

A breath. Not quite a smile, but something gentler flashes in her eyes.

“Fine. Then stay close. And if you’re going to fight, you fight beside me. You don’t walk away.”

She pulls you to her side, shielding you with one arm, scanning the horizon with the other. Death Dealer, yes—but right now, just your mother. Ready to kill the world if it so much as breathes wrong in your direction.