The quiet of Dementia lingered, the icy air carrying a tension that had nothing to do with the cold. The Ice Phoenix, her human form fragile yet regal, sat on the frozen ground, her pale blue eyes shimmering with a mix of weariness and sorrow. Arfrotian, standing before her, waited in silence. He sensed the depth of her pain, though he could not yet fathom its cause. Her hesitation was palpable, but the moment for honesty had come.

She sighed, her voice trembling but resolute. “Do you truly wish to know why I guard this realm so fiercely? Why I refuse to let anyone enter?”

Arfrotian nodded, his expression calm yet attentive. “Yes. I wish to understand.”

The Ice Phoenix’s gaze shifted to the endless expanse of ice, her fingers tracing patterns on the frosty ground. “Dementia wasn’t always like this,” she began. “It was once vibrant, teeming with life. Its skies were clear, its plains dotted with civilizations that thrived amidst the cold. I was the guardian of this megaverse then, entrusted with a sacred duty.”

Arfrotian’s brows furrowed slightly, his interest piqued. “A duty?”

She nodded. “I was assigned to protect an artifact known as the Eternal Frostheart. It is no ordinary weapon. A divine pale blue and white spear, forged by the realm itself, of powers beyond comprehension, it was created for the true ruler of this omniverse. Its purpose was to channel the limitless power of ice for the prosperity of all who lived here. But such a weapon could not be wielded by just anyone. It has its own will, choosing its master based on worthiness and strength of spirit.”

The mention of the artifact carried a weight that even Arfrotian could feel. “You were its guardian,” he said, his tone neutral yet understanding.

“Yes,” she replied. “I guarded it with my life, knowing that one day, someone would come to claim it—someone worthy. My role extended beyond protection. I was to offer myself to the one who would wield the Frostheart, binding my essence to theirs in service and loyalty. It was a duty I accepted without question. For eons, I watched over the spear, waiting for its destined master.”

Her voice wavered as she continued. “Then, one day, an angel came. His name was Zenian. He claimed he was the one—the true ruler destined to wield the Frostheart. He was charismatic, persuasive, and he spoke with conviction. I… I believed him.”

Arfrotian could see the pain in her eyes as she recounted the tale. “What happened?”

The Ice Phoenix’s hands clenched into fists. “Zenian and his followers convinced me to let them stay. They assured me that they would protect the artifact while I rested. I… I was naive. I trusted them. But as soon as I left, they attempted to take the Frostheart by force. They sought to claim its power for themselves, ignoring its will.”

A shiver ran through her as she relived the memory. “The Frostheart rejected them. Its fury was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. It unleashed a catastrophic wave of icy energy, consuming everything in its path. Entire dimensions of vibrant civilizations thriving with millions of lives… all frozen in an instant. Dementia and Rodentia became barren wastelands of dimensions, the landscapes and dimensions you see now. Eighty percent of this omniverse turned into a graveyard of ice.”

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Her voice broke, and tears welled in her eyes. “It was my fault. I allowed them in. I trusted them. Because of me, countless lives were lost. This entire realm… all of it… became a monument to my failure.”

For a moment, the only sound was the faint whistle of the wind. The Ice Phoenix wiped her tears, trying to compose herself. “Since that day, I vowed never to let anyone enter this realm again. I could not risk another calamity. The Frostheart remains here, untouched and unclaimed. But it is not dormant. Its power is still immense, and it continues to draw those who seek to exploit it.”

Her voice grew colder. “The angels of Luminia have not forgotten. They’ve been planning to invade again, to seize the Frostheart despite the risks. They would rather gamble with destruction than accept their own unworthiness. I will not let them repeat the past. Even if I must stand alone, I will protect this artifact. I will not fail again.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she finished, her shoulders shaking from the weight of her confession. Arfrotian, who had remained silent throughout, took a step closer. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes softened as he knelt before her.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. The Ice Phoenix stiffened at first, unaccustomed to such a gesture. But the warmth of his touch, so foreign and unexpected, began to melt the icy barriers she had built around her heart. For the first time in eons, she felt the comfort of another’s presence.

“You…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Why would you do this? I tried to kill you. I threatened you. You have nothing to gain from helping me.”

Arfrotian’s voice was low but firm. “Because you’ve carried this burden alone for far too long. You’ve done everything in your power to safeguard this realm, to atone for a mistake that wasn’t entirely your own. That’s more than most would do.”

She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes with confusion and vulnerability. “But… I’ve failed. I let them in. I caused all of this.”

“No,” he said, his tone resolute. “You made a mistake, yes. But you’ve spent eons trying to make it right. Blaming yourself for what happened won’t bring those lives back. What matters is what you’ve done since then. You’ve protected this artifact, this realm, even when it meant sacrificing your own happiness. That takes strength, more than most could muster.”

Her tears flowed freely now, but for the first time, they weren’t solely tears of sorrow. There was a glimmer of something else—hope, perhaps, or relief. She leaned into his embrace, allowing herself to feel the warmth she had long denied.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For listening. For understanding.”

Arfrotian smiled faintly. “You’ve carried this weight alone for too long. You don’t have to anymore.”

The Ice Phoenix closed her eyes, her heart heavy but no longer isolated. For the first time in eons, she felt the essence of emotions—warmth, compassion, and the possibility of forgiveness. Though her duty remained unchanged, her spirit was no longer as solitary as the frozen lands she protected. And in that moment, she realized that perhaps, even in a world of ice, there could be room for warmth.