Isidore Empire, also known as the Northern Empire. A desolate, icy wasteland, perpetually shrouded in snow, where a hidden empire lay beyond the permafrost wall. The people here have gradually adapted to the unrelenting chill, their lives intertwined with the harsh realities, revering winter as their divine deity.

The place where I live is a small, peaceful countryside. There is not much to this simple village except for the kind and friendly people. Life here is a poor life.

The village is quite far from the capital and we are actually at the lowest level of society. My village does not receive the benefits of the empire, but is just a small, independent village.

I live alone with my younger brother in a wooden house in the north of the pine forest, quite a distance from the main village. We have always had to live in seclusion because of the war. The war between the North and the South has lasted for fifty years and shows no signs of stopping. Because of that war, my brother and I had lost our mother while father has gone to the battlefield.

Five years have passed since father went to war. And the hope of his return, has slowly dwindled to a mere ember.

I am sixteen years old this year, my younger brother, Dylan, is only twelve years old. The weight of the world has fallen on our shoulders since our parents gone. The small wooden house was all we had left.

Dylan, with his dark red hair, golden eyes that sparkle like distant stars. He was a bright and mischievous boy.

"What are we having for dinner?"

Dylan sat obediently at the dining table, looking curiously at me as I brought out the food from the kitchen.

"Sorry, today we're having potatoes...again."

A decent meal was a luxury for kids like us. At this time, even though potatoes were cheap food, they were still a great value in a meal, because they were all we could afford at the moment. Just that, was enough.

"It doesn't matter, I'll eat anything"

I knew he was just saying that to comfort himself, the reluctance was evident in his tone as he spoke. Although his enjoyment of even the simplest meal, was a small consolation to me. Dylan was a sensible child, he didn't deserve to go through such terrible things, at such a young age.

There weren't many things for orphans like us to do. Sometimes I would try to sell some herbs I collected on the hill or run errands for anyone who would pay us. I was used to this hard life, a person with no education and no outstanding skills would have a hard time finding a decent job. Even as a maid. Furthermore, our status was low as wild wolves.

"Can I go out for a while?"

"Where are you going at this hour?"

Setting down my fork, I turned to look at him. It was six o'clock in the evening.

"Nothing important, I just want to go out for a bit. Besides, it's still early"

Dylan shrugged, his nonchalant attitude making me uncomfortable. It was as if he was up to something shady. He was clearly hiding something.

"Can't you do it tomorrow? Where are you going and what are you doing?"

Dylan shook his head, looking at me with a determined gaze as if it was urgent.

"I'm grown up now, I can take care of myself. Besides, I'll only be gone for an hour."

"You are so stubborn...Just an hour then. It's not safe outside..."

Although hesitant but I still reluctantly agreed. Dylan is a strong and smart child, in fact, the loss of our parents had taught him more about life than just being a naughty brat.

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He'll be fine, I thought.

An hour since Dylan left the house. I threw myself into the remaining chores to keep my mind off things.

What can I do to give us a better life than just eating potatoes to survive. I was tired of poverty, of dirty and old clothes, of the tasteless, dry food. Was there really a future where our lives would be better?

Suddenly

The sirens rang. A cacophony of loud bells echoed through the capital, filling the air with a sense of urgency. All of them were signaling a surprise attack in the night.

The battle for territory between the Wolf and the Dragon because of an ancient legend about the story of the dragon's stolen eyes.

I bursted through the front door, my heart pounding as I raced to find Dylan. He had left an hour ago, he was probably running errands in the village or playing somewhere.

This was bad, really bad.

My hurried footsteps took me out onto the cold street, where chaos began. The houses were locked and people were running everywhere. It was chaos, no one wanted to perishes.

The Dragons were more powerful than us Wolves, they could fly and directly strike down fireballs on the ground. The capital was protected by the magic of the mages, but small villages like the one I lived in were not so lucky. We had no mages or knights, no protection for these poor people when the dragons appeared from the sky and rained down their fury on the ground.

"Dylan! Dylan!?"

I ran through the streets, my voice was carried on the wind of chaos as I shouted Dylan's name over and over.

A fireball struck the center of the village with a deafening blast that left a gaping, black crater, turned the once pristine fountain to rubble. Dust and smoke rose from the ground. Screams followed as more fireballs began to descend from the night sky, massive silhouettes of dragons emerging from above.

"Dylan!! Dylan!? Where are you!?!"

The more fireballs fell, the more dust rose. Small fires had started somewhere. In the smoke, the loss of vision disoriented me. A large fireball suddenly struck on my run, the explosion hurling me through the air, my body crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

Staggered to my feet, my clothes were dirty and my black hair was messy, the fall caused a small wound on my ankle that was starting to bleed. My head throbbed, and the world around seemed to spin with the echoes of the explosion.

In the daze as I tried to regain consciousness, I felt a small warmth, a hand urgently shook me.

"Lia! Wake up! Are you okay?! Get up quickly, we have to get out of here!!"

Dylan's grip tightened around my hand as he urged me forward, quickly pulling me to run towards our house. A glimmer of hope flickered through my mind - the shelter beneath the house, our last chance for survival if we could only reach it.

A relentless barrage of fireballs descended from the sky, shaking the ground beneath our feet as we raced across front. Secretly hoping for luck to protect us.

"Hurry up, go in!"

We finally reached the house, the roof of which had been damaged a little when the tree next to it collapsed. Dylan and I raced towards the cellar door. Once we were down, I slammed the door shut and secured the latch with all my might.

The sudden attacks in the night were no longer uncommon to us. Lately, the frequency had increased, today was the third time this week.

We huddled together in the darkness, our bodies pressed close, like two frightened mice seeking warmth. The only light filtering through the cellar's small windows was a flickering, crimson glow from the fires raging outside. Time seemed to stand still when we were down here, a moment of peace amidst the chaos above.

Hours passed in silence.

In the dark, there was a rustling sound from where Dylan sat. He nuzzled his head against my shoulder like a poor puppy.

"I miss mom..."

The sound of fireballs hitting the ground still showed no signs of stopping. I didn't remember how many times this scene had happened, until I was no longer afraid of those sound. But maybe Dylan was still scared, he was just an innocent child after all.

I wrapped my arms around him, my hands gently stroking his back in a comforting embrace.

"Everything will be okay..."

"Do you think father will ever come back?..."

Honestly, I didn't know how to answer. Five years had passed without any news from father, extinguishing the hope in me when I thought about his return.

"Father will...I know he will..."

Lies seem to be the best comfort medicine at the moment.

Silence once again covered the cellar. The war was far from over, and the prospect of an enduring peace seemed as distant as the stars.

He also wanted to escape suffering, wanted a better life. Maybe he was tired of the patched clothes, disgusted with the bland potato soup.

Not the first time. We seemed to be all too familiar with the darkness of the cellar. Countless explosions accompanied by tremors.

Since when has it become like an all too familiar melody.

After four hours, the relentless assault on our senses finally ceased, as the deafening roar of explosions gradually subsided. The ground finally stopped shaking, I stood up, looked through the small narrow window of the cellar.

"The attack has stopped. We can go out"

Each attack left behind a haunting picture of destruction, a desolate and ruined landscape. Houses were damaged, the ground was a patchwork of craters and black marks. There were a few fires that the villagers were trying to put out. Evidence of the crimes, the brutality of the Southern army. What they passed through and left behind, was only ashes and the loss of the miserable people here.