Aidonia slumbered beneath a blanket of eternal winter—its skies like cracked obsidian, its rivers frozen in mourning. The people of this land had long revered death not as an end, but a sacred rite, and nowhere was this more evident than in the towering, glacial palace that housed the River of Souls and its royal family.

And now, inside the throne room of the palace, where time once stood still in reverence… chaos had come to feast.

At the far end of the chamber, upon the altar-like dais, sat Castorice — the princess of Aidonia — flanked by her parents, the ruling monarchs, seated proudly though their kingdom teetered on the brink of ruin. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the dark, a quiet light among shadows.

“Why don’t you run, girl?” one of the enemy knights sneered, bloodied sword leveled at her chest. “Your soldiers lie frozen at our feet. Your people will kneel. The Coreflame is ours.”

But Castorice only whispered.

“…They're here.”