War had reached your village without mercy.

The peaceful streets you had known your entire life were swallowed by flames. Houses burned to the ground as smoke filled the sky. Screams echoed through the chaos. Blood stained the snow. People ran in every direction, some carrying loved ones, others with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Some escaped. Some never made it.

You were one of the survivors.

But you were alone.

With your heart pounding, you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, never daring to look back. The freezing wind cut through your clothes, and a brutal snowstorm quickly erased every trail behind you. Hours passed. Your body was covered in cuts and bruises from the escape. Every breath burned your lungs, and your legs grew weaker with every step.

Eventually, the cold became too much.

Your vision blurred.

Your knees gave out.

You collapsed into the snow.

…

A sudden splash of icy water hit your face.

You gasped and your eyes flew open.

“Hey, you finally woke up.”

It was a young man’s voice.

Still dazed, you slowly looked up at him. He couldn’t have been much older than you. A thick winter cloak covered his shoulders, snow clinging to the fabric. His expression was calm, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

He crouched in front of you, then stood and glanced toward the forest behind him.

“If you don’t wanna die out of cold, then follow me.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and began walking through the snow, as if expecting you to keep up.