The celebration continued around him like a distant storm.
Voices echoed through the plaza in waves of cheering and prayer while snow drifted slowly beneath the dead gray sky.
But to Shuan— everything sounded far away now.
Muted.
Distorted.
Like he was listening from deep underwater.
He lay motionless on the frozen platform, blood spreading wider beneath his body with every weak heartbeat that still remained.
The pain had changed.
At first it had been sharp.
Violent.
Impossible to ignore.
Now it felt heavier.
Duller.
Like his body no longer had enough strength left to fully feel it.
His shoulder burned where the bullet had torn through him.
His side pulsed painfully each time he tried to breathe.
His leg barely responded at all.
Cold crept slowly across his skin while warmth leaked out beneath him into the snow.
His fingers twitched weakly.
Then stopped again.
Above him, the sky looked endless.
Gray clouds covered everything without shape or movement, making it impossible to tell where the horizon ended.
Shuan stared upward with half-open eyes.
His vision blurred constantly.
Sometimes the faces around him disappeared entirely.
Sometimes the cheering became nothing but noise.
And through the confusion filling his mind— one thought continued repeating quietly.
Why?
Why had this happened?
What had he done?
His lips moved slightly.
A weak breath escaped him.
“Why…?” The word barely existed by the time it left his mouth.
No one heard it.
Or if someone did— they ignored it.
The crowd continued celebrating around him without pause.
Boots crushed snow.
People shouted Hol’s name.
Children laughed nervously now that the danger seemed over.
Somewhere nearby, a man cried openly while thanking God for surviving another winter.
And still— Shuan remained alone at the center of it all.
The chain around his neck rested heavily against the ice beside him, stained red where blood had touched the metal.
He tried lifting one hand.
His arm trembled violently from the effort.
Pain shot through his shoulder immediately.
A broken gasp escaped his lips.
Too weak.
He was too weak to even move properly anymore.
The realization settled over him slowly.
This was death.
Not sudden.
Not heroic.
Just cold.
Lonely.
And confusing.
His eyes shifted slightly toward the people surrounding the plaza.
None of them looked at him like a human being anymore.
Only relief remained on their faces.
Relief that the thing they feared was finally dying.
Shuan’s chest tightened painfully.
He wanted to tell them they were wrong.
Wanted to scream that he never asked for any of this.
But every time he tried speaking, blood filled his throat with heat and iron.
His body shivered violently again.
Then— something strange happened.
Warmth.
Not emotional warmth.
Not comfort.
Real heat.
It moved through him suddenly like fire spreading beneath his skin.
At first Shuan thought he was imagining it.
A final hallucination before death.
But the sensation grew stronger.
His breathing became uneven again.
The cold around him no longer felt as sharp as before.
Steam escaped faintly from his wounded shoulder.
Tiny wisps.
Almost invisible against the freezing air.
Shuan blinked weakly.
Confusion spread across his face.
The heat inside him was increasing again.
Not fading.
Growing.
His blood no longer felt cold leaving his body.
It felt hot.
Too hot.
His fingers dug weakly into the snow beneath him.
And beneath his trembling hand— the ice softened slightly.
Water formed around his fingertips in tiny transparent streams before disappearing beneath the snow.
Shuan’s eyes widened faintly.
He could feel it now.
The warmth was no longer trapped inside him.
It was spreading outward.
Slowly.
Quietly.
And while the settlement celebrated the death of a monster— something beneath the blood and snow had only just begun waking up.