The Northern Kingdom no longer resembled a place meant for the living.

  Snow fell endlessly, but it no longer carried peace. It covered broken homes, buried streets, and softened the outlines of bodies frozen where they had fallen. Entire districts had vanished beneath ice and ash. Towers leaned at impossible angles, and black scars carved through the city where the White Gods’ weapons had struck.

  Only the royal castle still stood.

  Cracks ran across its ancient walls, glowing faintly with old defensive runes that flickered like dying stars. Inside the throne chamber, cold air seeped through shattered windows and extinguished half the torches.

  King Aldren Veyr remained seated on the throne in full armor. His eyes had not closed in days.

  Before him stood his elder son, Prince Kael.

  “Father… will the Watcher truly help us?” Kael asked quietly. “We cannot endure another attack.”

  The king did not move.

  “The Watcher keeps his word. Soon the tide will turn. Be patient, my son.”

  The chamber doors opened again as Crown Prince Darian entered, frost clinging to his cloak.

  “The enemies have withdrawn… for now,” he reported. “But if they attack again, the castle will fall.”

  The king’s voice stayed steady.

  “This kingdom has stood for two hundred kings. It will not fall on mine.”

  Far to the west, another kingdom mourned differently.

  The Western Kingdom burned.

  Smoke rose into a darkened sky, and shattered walls exposed the capital to the cold wind. Streets were layered in ash and broken banners. At the palace, the gates hung twisted from their hinges.

  Inside the throne hall, silence weighed heavier than grief.

  Prince Lucien Hale sat on the throne, hands gripping the armrests as if the world would vanish if he let go. Before him lay the body of his father, cut down by blades, blood dried across the marble.

  “Let me attack them,” Lucien said, his voice shaking with anger. “I will not wait while they breathe after killing him.”

  One elder bowed.

  “The Tower approved our letter. Reinforcements are coming.”

  Lucien’s eyes burned.

  “My father is gone. I stand alone.”

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  Another elder lifted his head.

  “You are not alone, Your Highness. You have your kingdom… and your people. Fight for them.”

  Lucien slowly rose, staring at the doors where war would return.

  Not far from the Northern Kingdom, Tavari’s army reached the Flower River.

  The land changed the moment they approached it. Clear water curved through the earth like flowing crystal, revealing smooth white stones beneath. Petals drifted across the surface — pink, violet, gold — carried from untouched forests nearby. Sunlight scattered over the current and painted moving colors across armor and faces. Even the horses calmed.

  For a moment, war felt distant.

  Tavari dismounted and led his horse to drink. Serena and Joseph followed.

  Only two soldiers did the same.

  Tavari glanced back.

  “Why are you not giving your horses water?”

  One soldier scoffed. “You think you can order us because you’re high rank?”

  Tavari only smiled and finished watering his horse. Then he mounted and continued forward.

  Minutes later, the first arrow struck the ground.

  It made no sound.

  White-armored figures rose from the trees, from the rocks, even from the river itself — not splashing, not breathing, simply appearing as if the world had revealed what was already standing there.

  Two hundred White Gods.

  Their masks had no eyes.

  Yet every soldier felt watched.

  Joseph shouted for formation, but one man behind him whispered in panic,

  “They… they didn’t run… they were already here…”

  Another backed away, sword shaking.

  “Why aren’t they breathing?”

  Then they moved.

  The disobedient soldiers reacted too late. One turned as a blade passed through his neck — his head lifted cleanly away, body remaining upright for a moment before collapsing. The second tried to flee, his exhausted horse crumpling beneath him. The White God didn’t swing hard — only gently — and the man separated across the waist as if reality itself had been divided.

  No one shouted.

  The soldiers stared.

  Serena’s flames erupted violently, breaking the paralysis. Joseph stepped forward, intercepting multiple strikes at once, forcing the army to reform.

  Tavari’s threads spread silently across the battlefield.

  He stepped forward.

  Enemies fell apart before reaching him. Spears redirected mid-thrust, armor opened along invisible lines, and each of his movements created space for the others to breathe. Serena burned advancing ranks, Joseph held the center, and slowly the soldiers found courage again.

  Minutes later, the river carried white armor away downstream.

  No victory cheers came.

  Only heavy breathing.

  A surviving soldier approached Tavari carefully.

  “According to Tower rules… you’ll be punished if your men die.”

  Several soldiers looked at him anxiously.

  Tavari watched the water for a long moment.

  “…Then next time,” he said quietly,

  “stay alive.”

  He turned forward.

  “Move.”

  They marched again — but now every soldier watered his horse at the next stream they passed.

  Across the wasteland, Arie’s army rode through a place where even sound refused to live.

  The Death Space stretched endlessly grey — no wind, no plants, no life. Hooves made no echo. Even armor stopped clinking.

  One soldier whispered, then covered his mouth in fear.

  “My voice… disappeared…”

  Ahead lay the White Gods’ war camp, siege weapons aimed toward the Western Kingdom.

  Arie raised his hand.

  “Attack.”

  Sarah’s flames crashed into the camp, breaking the silence like thunder. Matt charged through the opening, his blade burning through armored ranks. Raphel eliminated officers before orders could form while the soldiers followed.

  But the White Gods did not panic.

  They did not scream.

  They simply turned together.

  For the first time, hesitation spread among the Tower soldiers.

  Arie stepped forward, air bending around him, shifting the battlefield itself. Enemy formations collapsed as pressure distorted space, creating openings that reignited the soldiers’ courage.

  The camp descended into battle.

  Both armies advanced closer to their kingdoms.

  Far above the clouds, something watched the moving pieces of war.

  And for the first time since the attacks began…

  the White Gods had not moved randomly.