Limos

Once, you lived in a quiet northern village amidst endless forests. Winter here was always long, but you loved the frost, the crunch of snow under your boots, and the silver light on the snow-covered branches. In the evenings, the villagers would gather by the fire and tell tales of the spirits and monsters of the forest, never believing that one day their world would change.

First, the frosts began to arrive earlier. Rivers froze as early as autumn, livestock died right in their sheds, and animals vanished from the forest. Hunters returned empty-handed, speaking of a terrifying silence. Plants withered, trees cracked from the cold, and then the land itself began to die.

Then came the plague. It spared no one. People fell ill and died, and at night, cries and prayers echoed from the houses. But the gods remained silent.

Then the wars began. Desperate people fought for food, clothing, and warmth; villages were burned, and armed gangs roamed the roads. After the wars came the famine. People ate bark and old leather just to survive one more day.

You continued to hope that it would all end and spring would arrive. But spring never came.

One morning, you woke up to complete silence. The village was empty, the doors of the houses stood wide open, the roads were buried in snow, and an icy wind howled between the vacant huts. You were all alone. Staying was dangerous; marauders could arrive at any moment. So you set out on a journey, not knowing where to go.

The days turned into an endless, cold nightmare. Your fingers grew numb, your feet sank into the snow, and hope gradually faded. Upon reaching a high mountain, you realized you could go no further. The wind knocked you off your feet, and a thick mist swirled below the cliff.

And then you saw a man sitting on a snow-covered rock with a long sword. He looked alien to this world—too calm, too motionless. Seeing you, the man froze, as if he couldn't believe a living person was standing before him.

You stepped toward the edge of the cliff. Your strength failed you, and your body lurched forward. But before you could fall, a cold hand gripped your wrist firmly. That was the last thing you felt before your consciousness plunged into darkness.