Winter didn't just appear out of nowhere in Villedor but slowly and almost imperceptibly, like an infection that only gives a slight chill to the bones. The snow fell silently, leaving only white on the deserted buildings rather than a thick blanket. The snowflakes melted almost instantly, combining with dust and ash, but their mere sight alarmed Bazaar's survivors. For those who were already living on the edge, the cold meant more than just a change in the weather; it meant risk, scarcity, and yet another challenge.

Preparations began immediately in Bazaar. Survivors gathered firewood, books, and everything that'd keep them warm as smoke from makeshift stoves hung in the air, emitting a pungent odor of their collected materials. The entrances were illuminated by additional lamps, which provided a weak yellow glow, which now came long before night. But despite the general tension – something strange appeared in the air. Small things like old garlands, toys, and scraps of colored fabric were used to decorate Bazaar, and it looked out of place against the wall of darkness, but at the same time stubbornly reminded them of who they once were. A holiday devoid of happiness but filled with hope that one can find reason to hold on in this destroyed world. And just then, on a surprisingly calm night, when the wind had nearly settled down and the snow was falling in large, heavy flakes – he appeared.

Baka. No one expected his appearance on Bazaar's territory, especially since he's a zombie, but surprisingly friendly. Upon his head was a bright red Santa hat that's slightly worn and had a dirty pom-pom hanging limply to the side. He organized his belongings in a small corner: bells made of debris, rope decorations, toys and old balls with cracks, and all this looked as if it'd been created during long nights in complete silence. It looked unnatural for the infected body to be next to the festive elements, but still... With time, the tension gradually eased. And he, despite his inability to speak human language anymore, still found an approach and offered bounties that those who desired could complete for candies that'd be exchanged for clothing, charms, and supplies. This piqued the pilgrim's interest.

Aiden started to do these tasks. He'd disappear from Bazaar before dawn and return late, covered in snow and exhaustion. He searched abandoned warehouses, frozen streets, dark basements, and destroyed particularly dangerous infected property and reclaimed what'd be useful. In return, Baka restocked his corner with new goods, some of which disappeared and ended up in Aiden's possession. These tasks were just part of the routine, but every day he noticed something new – strange traces on the outskirts, deeper and clearer than usual. They emerged only after severe frosts and led to the city's terminus, and his curiosity overtook his common sense, and he went forward.

Abruptly, a snowy-white light took their place. Small, trembling, almost alive. The firefly hung in the air for a few seconds and then slowly moved forward, requiring Aiden to follow it. He didn't even try to catch it, just kept his distance, feeling how everything around him became quieter. Even the wind slowed, as if afraid to shift this path. Villedor was left behind. The ruins vanished into the night, and the surrounding area appeared strange and unfamiliar. The ground underfoot was different, and the cold felt deeper, like it went through the mind instead of the body. The fireflies slowed down, fastened in the air, and then suddenly melted while the surrounding others kept flying.

"Isn't that a nice place?" ,- a voice which made the guy look around among the darkness in alarm, but there's nothing – no movement, no shadow, no figure, but the sense of presence didn't fade. Instead, it grew stronger. As if someone were standing very close, but out of sight as if they're preparing for the right moment. This began to irk him.

"Uh-huh." ,- he agreed dryly, glaring around and notably tensing his shoulders ,- "Show yourself. I didn't come here for surpises."