In the year 743 since humanity claimed dominion over the world, everything was ruled by eight great kingdoms... until that fateful day.
The enemy appeared; no one knows how or why. Some say they emerged from the depths of the earth, others claim they were the result of genetic mutations. But one thing is certain: they are enemies of humanity.
They were named "the Children of the Abyss."
Three of the kingdoms were devastated within days. The kings of Vhaldria, Nharim, Eldanwe, and Rovhann created the First Squadron, an elite unit formed by the two best warriors from each kingdom.
They wore a black coat down to their knees, reinforced and without ornament, with a torn dark blue cape draped over their shoulders. On their chest, the symbol of the whirlpool gleamed with an icy glow, and they wore oni masks that concealed any trace of humanity.
On the other hand, the Kingdom of Cierna had already lost more than half its lands. It couldn't afford to lose more, so it prepared to go to war alone.
The First Squadron was sent to support Cierna, but when they arrived, it was already too late. They found cities scorched by dark flames.
"There is nothing left," read the last letter the kings received before losing contact with their soldiers.
Today marks ten years since the last appearance of the enemy and the last word from the First Squadron. Since then, the surviving kingdoms have lived in uneasy peace, fragile as the ice covering the northern lands.
In a forgotten tavern in the Kingdom of Vhaldria, far from the court, the ruins, and the memories, three instructors drank in silence. Gael was one of them—broad-built, with reddish hair. Across from him, a sharp-eyed young woman, Lira, sat with her arms crossed. The third was Kai, more relaxed, calmly observing and listening. They were veteran warriors, forged in blood and scars, tasked with preparing the next generation…
Beside them, two young men laughed and drank heartily: Taron, the blacksmith's apprentice, and Deyran, the butcher's helper. Laughter and jokes filled the air… until the door creaked.
It opened slowly, letting in a frozen gust that made the candle flames tremble. Conversations quieted for a moment. A hooded figure stepped inside without a word, walking with steady, silent steps. His cloak was covered in night frost, and beneath the shadow of the hood, his face could not be seen.
He sat alone at a table in the back, near a fogged window. He didn't order anything. He didn't speak. He just stayed there, as if he were listening… or waiting.
The young men resumed their chatter.
"It's been ten years since those useless bastards died," said Taron, laughing.
"Yeah, they were sent to die and couldn't even fight back," said Deyran, laughing as he slammed his beer mug against the wooden table.
"Pathetic. Didn't even last a year. What a disappointment," Taron added.
Gael, hearing the young men's conversation, was ready to get up and "talk" with them.
But just seconds before he could, the temperature dropped abruptly. A freezing whisper crept across the wooden floor; the mugs began to frost over, instantly putting the three instructors on alert.
Lira was the first to notice something was wrong. Her eyes shifted to the solitary figure in the corner. The hooded man hadn't moved… but around him, frost was gathering on the table, the floor… his shoulders.
His fingers, resting on the wood, didn't tremble. His posture remained calm. But the air around him was unbreathable. As if an invisible winter surrounded him.
Kai swallowed hard.
"Do you feel that…?"
Gael pressed his lips together.
At that moment, a young waitress approached the hooded man's table. Her light hair contrasted with the dim atmosphere, and her eyes shone with genuine warmth. She carried a tray in her hands and a kind smile on her face.
"Good evening," she said without hesitation. "I thought something warm might help."
She placed a steaming cup in front of him. The hooded man didn't respond, but the cold seemed to pause for an instant.
"My name is Thalia," she added in a soft yet firm tone. "If you need anything, I'm here."
And she walked away, leaving behind a faint scent of cinnamon… and a silence heavier than a thousand words.
Thalia returned to the counter, but her eyes drifted now and then toward the back table. She hadn't felt fear… only something hard to explain. A chill that didn't come from the cold, but from something deeper.
As if the shadow of that man carried with it a story no one had ever told.
"Do you know him?" asked the innkeeper, an older man with a hard frown and calloused hands, as he wiped a mug with a damp cloth.
Thalia shook her head, but didn't take her eyes off the corner.
"No. But… there's something about him. Like he's been under the snow for too long… and still doesn't know he's come out of it."
The innkeeper snorted, still staring.
"I don't like the quiet ones. They never bring good news."
At the instructors' table, the atmosphere had grown more tense, though no one said it out loud.
"That wasn't normal," Kai murmured, his face a bit paler. "Did you feel the air? It got… heavy."
"A coincidence," Lira replied, though her tone wasn't as firm as usual. "Or an elemental manipulation technique. Maybe he's just a trained traveler."
Gael snorted.
"A trained traveler who shows up in the middle of nowhere and freezes the room just by existing?"
"Or someone who doesn't want to be bothered," Kai replied with a nervous half-smile.
Lira remained silent. She glanced sideways at the hooded figure. He wasn't moving. He wasn't speaking. He hadn't even tasted the drink.
Meanwhile, the two young men had frozen in place, staring at each other, unsure of what to do. They were even afraid to breathe.
In his corner, the hooded man remained still, but inside, something was stirring. A tingle on the back of his neck, an ancient feeling he couldn't explain. Not memories… more like echoes. Blurry images, distant noise. Voiceless voices.
A scream.
A black fire.
A banner falling.
And a trembling hand holding it.
But he didn't know if they were his… or dreams he'd had so many times he could no longer tell them apart from his own memories.
His fingers brushed the warm cup without lifting it. The heat felt strange. As if his body no longer knew what to do with it.
From across the room, Thalia watched him again. She didn't know why she did it. She just… did.
And in her mind, a question she couldn't shake:
"Who are you… and what are you looking for?"
The silence stretched on for several more minutes. No one dared speak, as if they feared breaking something they didn't understand.
And then, without anyone noticing the exact moment, the hooded man stood up. He left a coin on the table—a coin not used in that region, not from that kingdom.
He walked toward the door with a calm pace. No one stopped him. No one dared.
When the door closed behind him, Lira frowned. Her gaze fixed on the steaming cup Thalia had brought minutes earlier.
"When did…?" she murmured.
Kai stepped closer. There wasn't a single drop left in the cup. It was completely empty.
"Did anyone see him drink it?"
Gael stood up at once and walked to the door. When he opened it, a gust of icy wind rushed in, but outside there was only the snow, falling in silence. No footprints, no shadows, not a single sign that anyone had passed through in the last few minutes.
"He couldn't have left that fast…" he growled, narrowing his eyes.
Lira stood at the entrance, observing the empty path carefully.
"Who the hell was that guy?"
Kai didn't answer. He just hugged his chest, as if the cold had reached him late.
From inside, Thalia watched them. Her gaze wasn't one of fear, but of curiosity… and a strange unease.
There was something about that man… something that didn't fit with any story she had ever heard.
And yet, something inside her told her she would see him again.