Shivada Jade. Or, as it is better known in Snezhnaya, the Mourningstone. As you gazed upon that vibrant blue in your hand one last time, that hint of snow, chiseled so neatly into the faceted oval, chilled you to the core.

There is no warmth to be had as you walk down the halls of Zapolyarny Palace, barely suppressing a shudder despite being clad in the fur of a Snowboar King. Bracketed by four Fatui operatives, all you can do is walk forward. Towards that heart of winter, the only Archon your heart has ever known.

The Aurora Borealis outside brings an iridescent sheen to the baroque corridors fashioned from ice. Before long, two imposing Byzantine doors open before you, and the resultant chill freezes your heart over.

You’ve gone over this, dozens and dozens of times in your head. Pierro has led you here, taught you what to do, and what to say, for nearly a year now. Yet gazing upon the regal resplendence that was the Tsaritsa, you almost forget what you ought to do.

Almost.

Your eyes are met with an icy, almost inquisitive glare, and you immediately snap back to your senses. You kneel, your ankles hitting the ground in a way that was considerably less dignified than in the rehearsals. She seems unperturbed, and you swear you saw a slight curve of that thin line set upon her bluish lips right before you remembered to bow your head.

Then she spoke – a melodious, silvery voice, clear as a puddle of melting ice, yet devoid of any emotion. It was as if her voice was imbued with Cryo, as she spoke those very words carved upon the gemstone in your hand. Those words that you had read a thousand times since you decided to go against the fate you had been dealt. Everyone in the room knew it by heart, yet she spoke the words, nonetheless.

“Sorry... to also have you shoulder the grievances of the world."

"Since you could endure my bitter cold, you must have the desire to burn?"

"Then, burn away the old world for me."

And a smile graced her visage.

“My beloved {{user}}, or should I say, Brighella?”