Chương 45: The Fragment and the Stars

The throne room was silent, deafening, and cold. At the far end of the dark hall, the ancient throne rested on a high stone dais. Featureless, unadorned, and worn smooth by centuries, it emanated an air so dense and unnaturally cold that time itself seemed frozen around the slab of grey rock. A silent army encircled them. Dozens of Blood Tribe warriors stood in a wide, unmoving ring above the cold floor, their bone armor heavily scored by ancient battles.

Their grips remained loose on axes and spears that stayed stubbornly lowered. Their pale, hollow eyes stared blindly towards the solitary girl standing in their midst. She was faintly luminous, radiating a soft, ethereal light—exactly as Stelle remembered her from the village square by the Saint statue. Her skin was pale and crystalline, her ears tapering into delicate, elegant points. Her deep blue eyes held far more sorrow and weight than a face so young should ever have been forced to bear.

"Who are you?" Stelle asked. Her voice sounded thin.

"And what do you want from me?"

"Fira," the girl replied softly.

"Though it has been a very long time since anyone has spoken that name aloud." Her mouth curved into a faint, sorrowful smile.

"You are here... to carry her last wish." Fira drifted a few inches closer, her translucent feet leaving no footprints upon the frost-dusted floor beneath them.

"It has been an agonizingly long wait," Fira continued, her voice echoing like wind through thin glass.

"But deep down, I always knew... I knew she would find a way to reach us again. To save us."

"Last wish? Save?" Stelle shook her head slightly, her fingers tightening around her weapon.

"This is the first time I'm hearing about any of this. I didn't come here to be anyone's savior."

"I see..." Fira's expression was soft, brimming with an endless, quiet gentleness.

"You do not yet understand what lives inside you. It is a fragment of Lilian's soul, the final vessel of her power. A tiny, precious piece she left behind when her life was given to this mountain. It carried you here. I am certain of it." Fira drifted another step forward, her crystalline eyes fixing upon a spot just above Stelle's chest.

"You carry it. You carry her frost. But you and she are not the same." She tilted her head, her gaze piercing as if peering directly at something buried deep within Stelle's core.

"Your own soul is... missing, yet you cradle her remnants like an anchor." Stelle remained silent. She had known her strange affinity for frost was linked to Saint Lilian, but hearing that a piece of the dead woman's very soul resided within her was still jarring. Maren said my soul was missing and only a trace remained, Stelle thought, recalling the declaration. Is that trace Lilian's fragment? Is my body just a container for someone else's soul? Stelle looked directly at the spectral girl.

"This power... inside me. Do you actually know what it is?"

"Her authority over the frost stems directly from the higher realms... from the God of Winter, or perhaps the God of Snow," Fira explained, her voice carrying a quiet reverence.

"I do not know how he transferred that power to you. But the moment your body finally began to absorb and circulate mana, her authority completed its final, delayed stage of transfer. And because that authority is no longer bound to her, everything that Lilian left behind using her power has begun to break apart." Stelle stood in the quiet cold, carefully arranging each piece of information side by side in her mind.

She refused to let the mounting pressure force her into a hasty conclusion she hadn't earned through logic.

"Let me make sure I understand," Stelle said slowly.

"You're saying Lilian's fading... does that mean the original threat is coming back? Am I releasing whatever destroyed this land?"

"No," Fira said, shaking her head.

"The darkness she sealed away died with her sacrifice a thousand years ago... That ancient horror ended the moment she offered her life to the frozen earth. She destroyed it completely. The remnants of darkness that remain here are merely power flowing directly from the dark star, infesting the rift." Fira stepped closer.

"What is fading now is not a seal holding back the darkness. What remains... what her lingering power has been holding... is the curse placed upon my people or the Snow Fae." Stelle blinked, catching the term.

"Snow Fae? But I was under the impression that only humans originated in this world."

"You are not mistaken," Fira said softly, a heavy, ancient sorrow settling over her translucent features.

"My people were never from this realm. We were merely refugees from another entirely."

"Refugees?" Stelle repeated.

"Long ago, my ancestors dwelt in the realm of Aura, where the Elves and Fae lived," Fira began, her gaze lifting toward the high, shattered ceiling as if searching for stars buried behind the heavy stone and ice.

"Cast out for transgressions long forgotten, they climb the Great Tower in desperation, seeking entry into a realm where every soul, no matter where it came from, could exist in peace." She paused, folding her tiny translucent hands in front of her chest.

"That new world was brilliant beyond description. Its grand order kept every race bound together in a delicate, beautiful harmony. Eventually, the humans of that realm drew close to my ancestors. They offered us a bond of friendship, inviting us to abandon our temporary shelters and migrate to their primary homeworld—Terra. Their invitation offered my people something we had desperately craved ever since the our god turned it back on us. It's a promise that we would never again be forgotten or hunted."

Her small fingers tightened together.

"The moment our feet touched the soil of Terra—a world far gentler, far removed from powerful entities—we placed our trust in humanity completely. We built our lives alongside them. We shared our magic, our culture, and our labor. But that trust was shattered without warning, consumed by human fear and greed." Fira's voice thinned to a whisper, though it did not waver.

"My ancestors were rounded up like livestock and forced into long, horrific generations of bitter slavery beneath humanity's iron grip. They endured cruelty so profound that even the cruelest gods could never have envisioned it. For centuries, my people bled for human masters, their culture erased, their dignity stripped away, until only a tiny, broken fraction of our population managed to escape." She looked up at Stelle, her eyes shining with an ethereal, heartbreaking warmth.

"Those few survivors fled to the absolute furthest edge of the continent—to this northern mountain range, the only place cold enough and harsh enough to hide them from human pursuers and built a mighty fortress, far beyond humanity's reach. Their hatred for them ran deeper than the ocean floor itself. Yet, despite their bitterness, their lives gradually grew quiet and peaceful once more. Though humanity had betrayed them so terribly, their frozen land cradled them gently in return."

Fira let out a soft, echoing sigh that sounded like winter wind blowing through dead trees.

"That quiet peace should have lasted for a thousand years more," she whispered.

"Until the darkness fell from the sky without warning. It corrupted the land, poisoned the air, and twisted everything it touched. Saint Lilian stepped forward to save the North from total annihilation. She unleashed her ultimate power to destroy the darkness... but in doing so, my people, the Snow Fae, received a terrible punishment alongside her." This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the vast throne room, so absolute that Stelle could hear the rhythmic, shallow sound of her own breathing echoing off the ancient stone walls.

"I am cursed in the exact same manner as them," Fira continued, gesturing faintly toward the solemn ring of unmoving figures surrounding them.

"It is a cruel, agonizing curse that strips away our reason and turns us into violent monsters. Our souls are shackled to the snow, forbidden from ever passing on to the Land of Souls." She looked toward the hollow-eyed guards, her expression brimming with pity.

"We are trapped in an endless, horrifying cycle of torment. We live as monsters, we are slain, our bodies melts.. and then we are reborn from the snow, crawling and walking once more as mindless horrors that barely remember we were ever anything else." Stelle studied the ghost girl carefully.

"But you... you are different, your soul is not bounded in a monster body like the rest, also that one elder. He seems to have not entirely affected and have a knowledge about the cursed origin."

"He was Malkor—an elder with a half-blood lineage. When your body first began to accept her authority is also the time where the lingering power of its previous holder began to fade, causing everything anchored to Lilian's power in this realm to crumble. Malkor, carrying only half the bloodline, gained a brief moment of clarity that allowed him to reclaim his sanity... but he used it to control the rest of his tribe and bend her power to command that beast, driven by a long, festering hatred toward humanity."

Malkor… He may have regained his sanity during the time I created the frost manifestation. That explains why only now that the blood tribe become strange and attack the people. Also is Lilian is really a traitor? Stelle processed silently, linking the chain of events together.

"As for me... I was spared," Fira said softly, her blue eyes drifting into the distance as though watching a memory from a dream.

"I was chosen to deliver these words to you when you finally made it here. Long after Lilian's fall, a strange man climbed this frozen peak. He walked through these ruined halls and stood before her resting place. With power beyond anything I had ever felt, a single touch from him bound my soul, saving me from the cycle of mindless rebirth. He left me my memories, my identity, and my mind... charging me with a single purpose: to wait here as a messenger for you."

"A man?" Stelle asked.

"He called himself simply a Sage," Fira replied softly. The word hung in the freezing air. A Sage... Stelle's mind raced, connecting him to the same man mentioned in the book— the Lost Sage.

"He instructed me to call him by that title," Fira said, her gaze sharpening as she observed Stelle's intense reaction.

"He told me many things on that quiet, frozen afternoon. He spoke of the nature of our curse, of Lilian's true final wish, and of a hope that had not yet arrived in this world, but inevitably would." Fira's eyes locked onto Stelle's once more.

"The Sage told me that one day, a Child of the Stars would descend upon this world—a traveler from beyond the sky who would carry Lilian's remnant and her final wish to save our people. He said you would fall from the vast dark above when the time was right." Her mind flashed backward, ripping through suppressed memories to the pitch-black silence of her past. Child of the Stars... a traveler from beyond the sky.

She remembered the feeling of suffocating darkness inside her metallic space capsule—the quiet, weightless void as she drifted through the endless ocean of space before crash-landing onto this planet. She had always assumed that the biting, protective cold that had kept her alive inside that pod was merely the frost that froze her alongside the capsule. But now, hearing the girl's words, a staggering realization slammed into her. The cold I felt inside the capsule...

Stelle realized, her breath hitching in her throat. It wasn't just the ice that encased me. It was gentle. It was protective. It was the exact same sensation she had felt when her frost mana first awakened on this planet. It felt like someone had been holding her all along—shielding her against the void, against the silence, and even against time itself. Was Lilian's soul fragment already inside me before I even reached this world? Did it protect and preserve me while I drifted across the stars?

But how is that possible? Lilian was a figure from this planet's ancient history... how could her power have reached me out in the dark of space? Was I created specifically for this purpose? Did my creators design me, drop me into space, and guide me to this world just to fulfill an ancient prophecy? Did they ever view me as a creation as the last symbol of earth, or just an instrument to carry someone's wish? And that man, who is he?

The endless paradoxes made her head ache, questions piling upon questions with no clear answers in sight.

"How could he have known any of this?" Stelle asked aloud, her voice trembling slightly.

"How could this 'Sage' know I would come here? Who is he?" Fira gave a sad, helpless shake of her head.

"I have asked myself those same questions for centuries. We are both merely carrying out roles that have been predetermined by someone whose mind we cannot hope to comprehend. I only know that now you stand before me, the hope we waited a thousand years for has finally arrived." Stelle remained silent, staring down at her trembling hand. For the very first time, something stirred within the hollow expanse of her chest—a sudden, overwhelming surge of raw emotion.

"What if I refuse?" Stelle blurted out, her voice hardening with sudden defensive defiance.

"What if I turn around right now and walk away?" Fira held her gaze, unflinching.

"If you turn away, then you will leave this mountain without the answers you seek, and my people will remain trapped in this endless, painful cycle forever. I know our existence is something you could easily choose to ignore. You could walk out, leave this frozen wasteland behind, and pretend you never heard a single word from me." She took a step closer, reaching out a translucent hand that hovered inches from Stelle's cheek, radiating a faint comforting warmth.

"But I believe with all my heart that you will not abandon us," Fira whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

"I know she won't. Not after a thousand years spent waiting for this exact moment. Lilian's warmth lives inside your chest... and she would never leave us in the dark." Stelle gritted her teeth, struggling to comprehend the heavy, unfamiliar feeling inside her chest.

"Malkor called Lilian a traitor! He died believing she cursed her own people. How can you still maintain such absolute faith in her?"

"Malkor was blinded by his own grief and hatred," Fira answered softly.

"He fought alongside my father to defend this very palace when the darkness descended from the sky. He watched the world burn, only to believe that the one person powerful enough to stand against it had used her final strength to curse our blood. But he failed to understand the truth."

"Then explain it to me!" Stelle demanded.

"Tell me what really happened that day."

"I want to..." Fira's voice trailed off, her luminous form flickering violently.

"I want to tell you everything... but our time has finally run out." Suddenly, a massive tremor violent enough to crack the earth ripped through the throne room. Above them, massive icicles detached from the high ceiling, shattering like glass against the stone floor. Fira's head snapped toward the shattered archway at the far end of the hall.

"It's here," The floor shuddered again as a secondary shockwave slammed into the foundation of the palace.

"Climb" Fira With a serious tone, pointing a translucent finger toward a narrow, winding staircase carved directly into the mountain face behind the throne.

"What you are looking for is waiting at the top." Her began to fade rapidly, her lower body dissolving into stream of glowing light.

"I am sorry... sorry that you must carry the weight of our ancient burden. I hope... I hope one day you can forgive us..."

"Be safe, Child of the Stars..." Before Stelle could reach out, the ghost girl dissolved completely, her small form thinning into a cloud of scattered, sparkling motes of golden blue light. Across the hall, the ring of Blood Tribe warriors remained standing exactly where they were. As the ceiling began to collapse around them, they did not run. But they turn towards the sound. Their weapons raised ready to fight. Stelle gathered her strength, forcing her body to move.

She turned on her heel and sprinted straight for the narrow passage behind the throne, diving past the falling debris. Behind her, a terrifying explosion of shattering stone blew the grand archway to pieces. A monstrous, frost-coated claw smashed through the entryway, followed by the towering, terrifying visage of the Guardian. Its burning violet eyes locked onto Stelle's retreating form, and it let out a roar so deafening it shook the very air in her lungs. Stelle didn't look back.

She burst out of the dark stone passage and onto the narrow, wind-swept trail of the mountain's final, external slope. The freezing blizzard slammed into her face, but ahead, towering above the clouds, she could see it—the highest peak of the mountain, gleaming beneath the pale sky. Behind her, the mountain wall exploded as the Guardian burst through, the blood tribe warriors then attacked it.

Setting her jaw against the biting cold, Stelle charged up the final slope, climbing toward the peak, toward Lilian's truth, and toward her own destiny.