Ethan fell heavily onto his knees in the crimson snow of the Outer Wastes. His shattered hands throbbed with white-hot agony as he tried to lift his arms.With shaking limbs, he pulled his little brother Toby against his chest. A healthy warrior would freeze out here within an hour, and Toby was only a frail child. The boy’s lips were dark purple, his shallow breathing rattling against the roar of the blizzard."Stay with me, Toby, please don't close your eyes," Ethan begged, his voice cracking as he rocked the boy back and forth. He pressed Toby tight against his coat, trying to shield him from the wind, but his own body carried no warmth.Beside them, his blind mother fell to her hands and knees, weeping as she felt blindly through the snow. Her frostbitten fingers were torn and bleeding, freezing the moment they touched the ice."My boys... where are you?" she sobbed, tears turning into frozen crusts on her pale cheeks. She crawled forward until her trembling fingers touched Ethan’

High above the freezing streets, Aethelgard’s nobility gathered inside the warm Grand Winter Pavilion to toast their good fortune. On the main stage, Cynthia sat in fine white silk as the honored Solar Maiden, hailed by the crowd for her restored core that would supposedly power the city’s winter barriers.Beside her, Young Master Garrick raised his golden cup with an arrogant grin. "Drink, my friends!" Garrick shouted across the crowded hall. "Tonight, we celebrate our city's radiant flame and the eternal glory of the Energy Syndicate!"The wealthy merchants and noble elders cheered loudly, banging their cups against the tables in eager agreement.Garrick raised his free hand to quiet the room, letting a cold, arrogant smirk spread across his lips."To ensure our sacred barriers remain fully fueled through the coming storms, the Syndicate must make certain adjustments," Garrick announced smoothly. "Starting tomorrow morning, the tax on all lower-district coal supplies will increase b

Driven by an instinct she could not control, Cynthia took a slow step forward."Stay back, Cynthia," Garrick warned coldly, not even glancing at her. "We don't know if that rogue beggar laced it with dark magic to poison our trade."Cynthia didn't listen. Her mind was in a daze, pulled forward by an invisible tether that tugged directly at the core inside her chest.She reached her trembling hand out, her pale fingers hovering above the stone for a fraction of a second before her fingertips made contact with the smooth, warm surface.The moment her skin touched the golden briquette, a shockwave rippled through her soul.The agonizing, jagged burning that had been tearing through her meridians instantly vanished. The wild, thrashing core inside her chest went dead silent, curling up and purring in sweet, peaceful contentment.It was a gentle, familiar warmth that wrapped around her heart like a soft woolen blanket on a freezing night.Cynthia froze, all the air rushing out of her lungs

The morning sun broke over Aethelgard, but inside the luxury estate of the Energy Syndicate, the air remained dead and freezing. A fine crystal goblet smashed against the stone wall, sending dark red wine dripping down the marble like fresh blood. "What do you mean our credit is frozen?!" Garrick’s roar echoed through the massive study, his face flushed with boiling rage. On the cold floor, Accountant Orson trembled violently, pressing his forehead into the carpet. "Young Master, it is a disaster! The merchants saw the glowing ledger tablets in the Commerce Hall last night. They saw the Syndicate’s debt numbers! The coal drivers are refusing to load wagons without cash upfront, and our private shares dropped by forty percent in less than an hour!" Garrick kicked his heavy mahogany desk, sending stacks of gold-bound ledgers flying into the air. His chest heaved as panic tore through his chest. Just one day ago, he held the entire city in the palm of his hand. Now, his vas

The freezing wind howled through the muddy square of the Ironworks Slum. Gray snow fell heavily from the dark sky, mixing with soot and cold dirt. A thick wooden soup wagon lay smashed on its side in the center of the plaza. Hot vegetable broth spilled across the red snow, steaming for a few seconds before turning into dark red ice. Twelve heavy syndicate enforcers stood in a wide circle around the ruined wagon. They wore thick iron plate armor that clattered loudly every time they moved. In front of them, Captain Bruce strutted through the freezing slush like a hungry wolf. He was a giant of a man with a scarred jaw, cold eyes, and yellow teeth. In his right hand, Bruce held a massive spiked iron mace that dragged through the dirt. "Toss every single one of these illegal stoves into the gutter!" Bruce roared, his deep voice echoing off the rotting wooden shanties. "Break them into pieces! Let them see what happens when they touch contraband warmth!" A heavy ir