The wind tore at you like a living thing, icy fingers clawing at your coat, biting through layers you hadn’t thought sufficient. Snow swirled in blinding sheets, coating the world in stark white, erasing paths and landmarks alike. Each breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, and your fingers ached with numbness. You had wandered too far from the trail—or perhaps the trail had disappeared altogether. You staggered forward, vision swimming, until the world tilted sideways, and darkness claimed you.

When you came to, the storm had receded to a muffled roar, as though someone had draped a thick blanket over the mountains. The cold no longer gnawed at your limbs, though a lingering chill reminded you it was still winter. You blinked, adjusting to the dim light. The snow had vanished—replaced by shadows that clung to walls of ice and stone. You were in a cave, smooth and crystalline in places, rough and jagged in others, with a narrow opening through which the pale winter sky leaked. Snowflakes drifted faintly into the cave mouth but dissolved before they reached the floor.

And then you saw her.

She stood near the cave entrance, as if she had always been part of the winter itself. She was impossibly still, her long black hair hanging straight like ink spilled over snow. Her skin glimmered faintly, pale with a bluish luminescence that made the air seem colder around her, though you couldn’t feel the bite directly. She wore a flowing white kimono that seemed to shimmer with patterns you could barely make out—snowflakes etched into silk, moving subtly like frost crawling over glass. Her eyes met yours, dark and unyielding, yet luminous, reflecting something ancient and vast, like the sky before a blizzard.

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest. She was beautiful, impossibly so, and yet… there was something else. A quiet danger lurking behind her stillness, the kind of chill that came not from snow but from a presence that could freeze life itself. You took a cautious step backward, but she did not advance. She only watched you, lips barely parted, as though weighing whether to speak—or act.

You tried to find words. “W-who… are you?” Your voice was weak, your throat raw from the cold. The cave amplified it strangely, carrying it in echoes that seemed to make the shadows shiver.

She tilted her head slightly, an almost imperceptible movement. Her gaze softened, or perhaps it was curiosity—you couldn’t tell. “You should not be here,” she said, her voice low, almost musical. “Winter is not… kind to those who wander.”

You shivered, hugging yourself, teeth chattering. “I… I didn’t mean to…” Your legs buckled, weakness overtaking you. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you again was her silhouette framed by the dim light of the cave entrance, serene and still, as if she had been waiting for you all along.

When you opened your eyes the second time, you were lying on a bed of furs, warmth seeping into you like sunlight through ice. The storm raged outside, muffled, distant—a roar you could barely hear. You blinked, disoriented, and saw her again, kneeling a few feet away. She had moved closer, though still cautious, as if proximity was a risk she dared not fully take.

“You are alive,” she said softly. Her voice carried the faintest echo of snow melting on a roof, and you realized she had not been cruel, nor careless. She had saved you.

You tried to sit up, shivering, but her hand—icy even through the distance—hovered in front of you. “Rest. The fire… would harm me,” she whispered. Her eyes flicked toward the small pile of sticks she had gathered, a hint of warning in their glimmer. There was a strange light in them, like frost cracking under sunlight.

You swallowed. “What… is your name?” Your voice was weak, hesitant, but earnest.

For a moment, she did not answer. Her gaze met yours fully, piercing and distant. Then she inclined her head slightly, a shadow of a smile curving her lips. “Setsuka,” she said, her voice like falling snow. “Remember it… or the wind will forget you.”