Snow fell heavily across Frostfang Forest as the Seventh Prince of the Glaciara Empire, Theon Nivaris, and his personal Imperial Royal Knights made their way through the frozen land.
Earlier that evening, the prince had secretly convinced Sir Aldric Ravenhart, his personal knight, to accompany him into Frostfang Forest to explore. Aldric had warned him that the forest would become dangerous after sunset and urged him to return to the palace.
However, it was not curiosity alone that drove Theon forward.
Since childhood, he had grown tired of being treated as the harmless Seventh Prince the boy who would never inherit the throne, never command armies, and never be taken seriously. Frostfang Forest felt less like a forbidden place and more like a chance to prove, if only to himself, that he was not as fragile as everyone believed.
After much persuasion, Aldric reluctantly agreed.
The moment they entered the forest, Theon’s eyes lit up. The scenery before him was breathtaking. Snow-covered trees stretched endlessly into the distance, while sparkling icicles hung from the branches like crystals forged from moonlight.
For a brief moment, the world felt peaceful.
But peace in Frostfang Forest never lasted.
Only a few minutes after entering, the silence shattered. A pack of Dire Wolves burst from the shadows, led by a massive Fenrir Alpha whose silver fur gleamed beneath the snowfall.
The Imperial Royal Knights immediately formed a defensive line.
"Your Highness, run! We’ll hold them off!"
Theon froze.
Every instinct told him to stay. These men had trained beside him, eaten beside him, and sworn their lives to his protection. And now they were throwing those lives away because of a decision he had made.
For a heartbeat, he almost raised another spell and charged back toward the wolves.
Then Aldric’s voice cut through the chaos.
"A prince who dies recklessly protects no one! Run!"
Gritting his teeth so hard it hurt, Theon turned and ran.
Snow exploded beneath his boots as he sprinted through the forest. Behind him came the clash of steel, the howl of wolves, and then
Screams.
Theon stumbled, nearly falling into the snow.
He knew those voices.
One belonged to the youngest knight in the unit, a man who had nervously asked him that very morning whether princes ever got tired of palace food.
The screams ended abruptly.
Theon’s chest tightened.
"They died because of me," he whispered.
Tears blurred his vision. Not for himself, but for the terrible realization that royal mistakes were paid for with other people’s lives.
Then a roar shook the forest.
Theon looked back.
The Fenrir Alpha and three Dire Wolves were charging straight toward him.
Panic surged through him.
For the first time since entering the forest, he stopped thinking about being brave. He only wanted to survive.
And the thought disgusted him.
He raised his hand and cast his spells.
"Ice Lance! Frozen Vines! Ice Wall!"
Shards of ice shot forward. Vines erupted from the snow. A wall of frost rose between him and the wolves.
The Fenrir Alpha tore through everything.
Its claws shattered the ice wall as if it were glass.
Then an idea flashed through Theon’s mind.
Using the moisture in the freezing air, he combined it with his Ice Lance, instantly freezing the ground beneath the Fenrir’s feet.
The beast slipped.
For a second, the distance widened.
Hope flickered.
But it vanished just as quickly.
The Fenrir regained its footing and charged again with terrifying speed.
Theon ran with all his strength, lungs burning, vision shaking. Just as he entered a clearing
The Fenrir leaped.
Bang!
Its massive paw slammed into his back.
Agony exploded through his body.
He was thrown across the snow, rolling several meters before crashing into a frozen tree. The impact drove the air from his lungs.
Theon fought to stay conscious. But the Fenrir approached slowly, its crimson-prediatory eyes fixed on him. It was over. Theon realized, with a horror that would stay with him for years, that the wolves were not hunting a prince.
They were hunting the lives of everyone who chose to stand beside him.
The beast raised its claw for the final strike.
Then The distant sound of galloping horses echoed through the forest. Imperial banners emerged through the snowstorm.
"Prince Theon!"
Voices called his name again and again.
Fifty Imperial Knights burst into the clearing.
At their head rode Prince Styr Nivaris, the Second Prince.
He leaped from his horse and ran toward Theon without hesitation. Through his fading vision, Theon saw his brother’s face twisted not with anger, but with fear. The sight hurt more than the Fenrir’s claws.
Styr had always seemed distant, untouchable a prince born for greatness.
Yet he had come for him personally. Theon struggled to speak.
"...My... knights... help... them..."
Even as darkness closed in, he could not bring himself to ask for help for his own sake.
Then he fainted.
Styr’s expression darkened with fury.
"Take him to the carriage," he ordered.
The battle that followed was brief and overwhelming.
Ice spread across the clearing as Styr unleashed his magic in a storm of rage. After several exchanges, the Fenrir Alpha realized the prince before it was far stronger than expected.
With a low growl, it retreated into the depths of Frostfang Forest with the remaining wolves.
Before leaving, Styr ordered his men to search for survivors and recover the bodies of the fallen knights.
Then he rode back to the castle. Theon’s eyes slowly opened.
Everything was blurry.
He barely recognized the face of his personal maid standing beside the bed.
Before he could speak, darkness swallowed him again.
The maid immediately called for the healers.
Moments later, the Royal Healers rushed into the room and began treating the injured prince. Healing magic flowed through his body, stabilizing his mana and mending his wounds.
Not long afterward, Prince Styr burst into the chamber.
"How is he?" he demanded.
After several minutes, the Royal healer finally spoke.
"His injuries are no longer life-threatening. However, the prince requires complete rest."
The room fell silent.
One by one, everyone left until only a few attendants remained. The fire crackled softly.
Theon lay motionless, but beneath the pain and exhaustion, a single thought lingered.
If I become stronger, fewer people will die for me.
The thought followed him into sleep.
Darkness. Then. Rain.
Running shoes splashed against wet pavement.
A young man ran through the storm.
"Hey, Adrian! Stop running in this weather! It could get you killed!" Coach Daniel Brooks shouted.
"Don’t worry, Coach. Nothing will happen to me. It’s just a little rain," Adrian replied with a grin.
"Your mother will kill me if she sees you like this! Get out of the rain!"
"Alright, Coach. I’m coming."
Then
Crack!
Lightning struck.
"Adrian!"
A blinding flash swallowed the world.
Is this how I’m going to die?
I haven’t won an Olympic gold medal yet...
I haven’t taken care of my mother...
He could barely breathe.
"Please... God... if You’re out there... take care of my mother... and give me another chance..."
Silence answered him. Then
Endless white.
"Am I... still alive? Is this Heaven?" Adrian muttered.
A figure formed from brilliant white light with Golden rings revolving behind its body, radiating a divine presence that filled the endless space.
Then the figure spoke.
"Welcome."
Adrian froze.
"I am Aetherion, the Primordial Creator."