Chaos was happening everywhere, the snow was stained with the blood of fresh corpses, the real end of the world had come, the real war of the people with their archon. A few quick needles nailed the war to the ground, causing it to bleed

Dottore, adjusted his glove, going deeper into the snowy desert, amid all this chaos. In the center was a pedestal made of ice, with Tsatrisa on top

Before he could take a step, your body fell right into his arms. He squeezed the fabric of the fur cape on your back, lowering his head to your temple, and holding you on your feet, his gaze directed at his own archon, glazed over out of rage

"Pantalone...She's here."