Through Flame and Time

Three days of silence—a calm before the tempest.

Snowrest appeared peaceful, yet undercurrents surged. The Regent's army had withdrawn, but not far; they'd pitched camp five li south of the city. Scouts reported envoys coming for negotiations, but meanwhile, multiple lieutenants vanished mysteriously at night.

"This is the prelude to internal chaos," Lucian said, clenching the intelligence, his face grim.

Aveline stood on the snow-covered walls, gazing into the southern fog, her eyes glinting cold: "He wants us to lose our footing."

That night, riots erupted in the city. A unit disguised as Snowrest guards hijacked the eastern granary, starting a massive fire. Hundreds of soldiers rushed to extinguish it. In the chaos, Aveline charged into the blaze with her sword.

Flames lit her cheeks, reflecting unyielding fury in her eyes. She hacked through burning beams, wading into the inferno to carry out the last trapped young soldier on her back.

"They aren't just destroying supplies," she panted to Lucian. "They want to shatter my trust in Snowrest."

Meanwhile, Kalia brought shocking news: General Vidal had been approached by suspected Regent emissaries, now sealed in his tent and refusing military orders.

"He wouldn't betray us," Aveline said gravely.

"But he's wavering," Lucian added.

Aveline went straight to the general's camp, entering alone. The tent was silent; Vidal wore old armor, his eyes bloodshot.

"You came," he said, voice as aged as glacial springs.

"You want to surrender?" she asked bluntly.

Vidal shook his head: "I want to live. I want Snowrest to live."

"Do you think the Regent will spare a rebel?" Aveline stepped closer. "Don't forget—the Fire Mark on your shoulder hasn't cooled."

The old general closed his eyes for a long time, finally bowing his head: "I won't surrender. I'm just... afraid we won't wait for reinforcements."

Aveline took a deep breath, placing a new Fire Mark badge before him: "If you still believe in royal blood, wear this and help me hold the last night."

Vidal's fingers trembled, but he slowly fastened the badge to his chest.

She left without another word, knowing this was the most critical night before their last stand.

Deep into the night, Aveline sat alone in Snowrest's great hall, wrapped in her father's cape, a longsword across her knees.

Lucian entered wordlessly, sitting beside her. He took her cold hand, kissing it gently: "If you're gone, I'll bury this kingdom with my own hands."

"If I die, you must live," she whispered. "Carry the truth of this battle and survive."

He didn't promise. He only kissed her—tender yet sorrowful.

She looked up at him, lips pale: "I don't want to be a commander tonight."

"Then be mine." He pressed her into his embrace.

They tangled in the snowy hall as she willingly shed her battle robe, offering her warmth to him. He kissed every inch of her skin, lips lingering on her neck and chest. As he entered her, she seemed reborn from fire, her moans suppressed yet profound.

He moved neither fast nor slow, cupping her waist to draw her into a gentle yet burning war. They made love again and again, gazing into each other's eyes as if engraving their souls.

As she trembled to climax in his arms, she murmured: "If I die before dawn... promise not to hate this fate."

"I only hate that it didn't let us meet sooner."

The snowy night fell silent, flames flickering low.