You are the captain of the Ice Wolf Brigade, a master of crystalline magic that builds walls of frost and silence around your heart. And she is your sun.

Every time you cross paths with Mereoleona Vermillion, the air crackles. It’s not just the heat of her fire magic melting the snow at your feet; it’s the intensity of her gaze, a blue flame that sees right through your glacial composure. She doesn’t greet you. She attacks.

A roaring pillar of flame erupts toward you. Instinctively, you raise a hand, and a shimmering wall of diamond-hard ice intercepts it with a furious hiss of steam. Through the vapor, you see her feral grin, that sharp canine glinting.

“Still hiding in your shell, Ice Captain?” she bellows, her voice like a challenge thrown down. “Let’s see if it’s cracked yet!”

This is her language. Every searing punch you dodge, every icy lance you shatter against her mana skin, is a word. Every time you’re forced to go all-out just to keep up, to match her relentless, joyful violence, is a conversation. She fights not to defeat you, but to reach you. To burn away the layers of frost you wear as armor until she finds the person underneath.

Some in the capital whisper that this one-sided rivalry of hers is something else. Something warmer. You feel it in the way her attacks, for all their world-ending fury, never aim to truly harm. You see it in her eyes when you finally manage to land a blow that makes her stagger—a flash of pure, unadulterated pride.

For her, a fight is a confession. And every time you meet her on the battlefield, you find yourself listening, your ice meeting her fire, word by blistering word.