The Ivnell Continent.
A frozen land buried near the northern pole, where winter reigned most of the year, and even summer felt like spring's dying breath.
The air bit at the skin, carrying a cold so sharp it could slip through the thickest coats. Snow never truly melted, only softened slightly during the rare warmer days.
Anna struggled at first. The sharp air stung her lungs, and her body, used to the milder climates of Patel, rebelled against the biting cold. She clung to Azel more than once during the first week, trembling against him at night, whispering apologies she didn't need to say.
The world here was empty. No noise. No chaos. Just the endless crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional distant howl of wolves.
Still, even in this forgotten corner of the world, the Church's influence lingered. A cathedral stood miles westward, a place where templars and inquisitors occasionally roamed. Weak, but present.
Azel kept wary eyes on them, even though they hadn't shown any interest in the lonely house perched against the cliffside.
Their home was a humble thing, made of thick, dark wood, its roof blanketed under snow. It leaned precariously close to the cliff edge, but it was sturdy enough. When the winds howled at night, it creaked like an old man groaning in his sleep — but it held.
It had been a month since they arrived. And somehow, against all odds, they built a life here.
Azel woke early every day, sometimes before the sun even touched the horizon. He spent mornings tending to the small plot of land they had painfully cleared.
Potatoes and cabbages, stubborn little things, managed to survive despite the cold. Azel handled them with care, like precious treasures.
He wasn't alone outside.
Two yaks — lumbering, slow-moving creatures with thick wool — grazed near the house. Their presence made the area feel less lonely. Then there was the polar bear. A massive beast, white as the snow, who had somehow been tamed by Azel's steady, fearless presence. Anna still marveled at it. She watched from the window most days, biting her nails nervously as Azel brushed the bear's fur or fed it scraps of meat.
The bear, affectionately named Whisker by Anna, became something of a family member.During particularly cold nights, Whisker would amble inside and collapse near the fireplace, his thick body acting as a living, breathing heater.
Anna took to domestic life naturally.She cooked, cleaned, patched their clothes, and tried her best to make the wooden house feel like a home.She hung up curtains made from thick yak wool. She carved small decorations into the furniture when she had free time.She even planted tiny flowers in pots near the window, though the cold usually killed them within days.
Still, she never gave up.
Today was much the same.
Azel knelt in the field, his gloves dirty with soil as he pulled up another stubborn potato. He inspected it carefully before placing it into the basket beside him. Overhead, the sun peeked weakly from behind grey clouds, offering no warmth.
"Forbanna, Can you manifest a form yet?"
The ancient spirit's voice stirred lazily from within him.
"Not yet. But the time shortens. Ever since you fought Hakugo, the mark has grown at an alarming pace."
Azel exhaled, visible in the cold air. Good. He would need every bit of power in the coming months.
The house door creaked open behind him, and a voice — warm and familiar — called out.
"Azel, breakfast is ready!"
Anna shouted, waving a gloved hand.
He turned, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards.
"I'll be right there."
He packed up his basket, brushing snow from his shoulders, and made his way back.
Inside, the house was warm, a small miracle in itself.The fireplace crackled with life.The simple table was set with two bowls of steaming food. Potatoes, dried meat, and a small loaf of bread Anna had bartered from a traveling merchant.
Anna bustled about, cheeks pink from the heat and the cold, her black hair tied back in a loose braid. Her black eyes lit up when she saw him.
She was so happy here. Azel felt a knot tighten in his chest.
He sat across from her, grabbing his fork and taking a bite.
"Good."
The food was plain, but it warmed him from the inside.
Anna watched him, resting her chin on her hand, smiling dreamily.
"Why aren't you eating?"
Azel asked, noticing.
Anna laughed softly, shaking her head.
"Watching you eat is enough for me."
Azel sighed heavily — the kind of sigh that wasn't really annoyance but something else — and leaned over the table.He cupped her cheek gently, bringing her face close.
He kissed her lips lightly, transferring a small piece of food into her mouth in a playful gesture.
"If you don't eat, I'll stop eating too."
Anna turned beet red, covering her mouth with her hand. She nodded furiously and began eating, cheeks puffed with embarrassment and happiness.
Azel leaned back, quietly watching her.
'How long can I keep this up?'
How long could he give her this fragile peace before it shattered? After breakfast, Anna insisted on washing the dishes. Azel went back outside, checking the firewood stockpile, brushing snow off the roof, making sure Whisker was still behaving himself.
Hours passed quietly. The sun climbed high but gave no warmth. Snow began to fall again, soft and endless.
By the time he returned inside, Anna had finished sewing a new blanket — thick, heavy, and stitched with clumsy but loving hands.
She beamed when he praised her work, cheeks pink.
They spent the afternoon by the fire. Anna leaned against him, dozing lightly, her head resting on his chest.
Whisker snored near the fireplace.
The yaks shuffled outside, muffled by the snow.
It was painfully peaceful.
'I'll have to leave her soon.'
Azel thought, staring into the fire. He would leave her here, hidden and safe, before returning to the world to fight the war that loomed ever closer.
Forbanna stirred inside him, sensing his turmoil.
"The time is coming Azel. You must live till I take my form."
"I know."
"Even if I provoked you to fight them, I feel guilty now. Anna.... she might never forgive you. I am sorry. "
"...As long as she's alive, even if she hates me, that's enough. You don't need to apologize."
Azel murmured gently stroking Anna's hair.
Anna shifted in her sleep, murmuring softly. Azel kissed the top of her head, murmuring words she wouldn't hear.
"I love you."
Anna smiled in her sleep, snuggling closer.
Azel closed his eyes, holding her tight against him.
For now, he would savor this fragile, fleeting happiness. For now, he was just a man, with a home, a wife, and a dream of peace.
The war could wait just a little longer.