Kanej || HOPE

Kanej || HOPE

Prologue

masterlist // chapter 1 —>

He gently put his gloved hand on her shoulders. A sense of warmth flew through her entire body. She felt loved, protected. He made her feel worthy. He was everything to her. Being around him gave her a sense of comfort, she could never express into words.

   The boy with the blazing pistols seemed to be drawn to the fragile heart. He had gifted her freedom, serenity......

Yet, he knew. He knew that she was only a mere figment of imagination and would slowly fade away. He knew that she was nothing but a sphere of illusion. 

Zoyalai au idea no 2. Canon divergence

Zoya's power did not reveal itself on her wedding day, it happened during her first night with the husband years later. She is 13 and accidently kills her husband before he even lays a finger on her. She is alone (her parents were paid and sent away long ago) with her newly aquired grisha powers, happily the servants help her and cover the death. She becomes a widow, with her late husband's money she doesn't feel the need to join the second army, so she hides her powers.

Years later when the fold is gone, the new king during his travels across Ravka stops in her estate. And one night his demon escapes.

*Genya is probably the general here...🤔

*Zoya's aunt and cousin join her after she becomes a widow

She was only thirteen when she became a widow. Married off to a much older nobleman for the sake of alliances, her fate had been sealed long before she could even understand it. Her parents, lured by promises of wealth and status, had sent her away without a second thought. And on that wedding night, in the quiet confines of her husband's lavish chambers, fear and desperation had gripped her heart.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. She was meant to be a pawn in someone else's game, a tool to be wielded for power and influence. But when his hands reached for her, when the darkness threatened to consume her innocence, something inside Zoya snapped.

The power surged through her veins like wildfire, uncontrolled and raw. She hadn't even known she was Grisha until that moment, when the force of her newfound abilities lashed out in self-defense. In an instant, he was dead, his lifeless body slumped on the bed.

Zoya had been alone then, save for the servants who had heard the commotion and rushed to her aid. Fearful yet loyal, they had helped her conceal the truth, covering up the death as an unfortunate accident. She became a widow that night, inheriting her late husband's wealth and estate.

With newfound independence, Zoya chose to hide her powers. She had no desire to join the Second Army, no need to prove herself to anyone. Instead, she focused on managing her estate, rebuilding her life in the shadow of her past.

***

Present Day

Ravka had changed. The Fold that had once divided the land was gone, thanks to the efforts of Grisha and warriors alike. Darker days seemed to recede with the passing years, replaced by an uncertain peace tinged with hope.

Nikolai was unlike any king Ravka had known before—charming, cunning, and with a darkness of his own. During his travels across the kingdom, he stopped at Zoya's estate, seeking refuge and respite from the demands of his crown.

It was on one such night, when the wind whispered through the trees and the stars twinkled overhead, that disaster struck. A demon, a remnant of darker days, escaped its bindings and threatened to wreak havoc once more.

The air crackled with tension as Zoya and her companions faced the demon. It emerged from the shadows, a grotesque creature with eyes that glowed like hot coals, its form shifting and twisting as if it were made of smoke and darkness. The very ground beneath them seemed to shudder with its malevolent presence.

Zoya's heart raced as she focused her Grisha powers, feeling the electricity hum through her veins. Beside her, her aunt and cousin stood ready, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. Genya, the King's General, with her mastery of illusions, conjured shimmering images that danced around the demon, momentarily confusing its senses. Meanwhile, Zoya's cousin, skilled in elemental manipulation, summoned gusts of wind that whipped through the air, unsettling the demon's ethereal form.

The creature let out a guttural roar, its voice reverberating through the night. Shadows coalesced around its clawed hands as it lunged forward, aiming to strike at the heart of their defense. Zoya reacted instinctively, calling forth tendrils of lightning that crackled and lashed out towards the demon. The bolts of electricity sizzled through the air, striking the creature's shadowy limbs and forcing it to recoil momentarily.

But the demon was relentless. It surged forward again, claws slashing through the air with unnatural speed. Zoya dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a lethal strike. Her aunt's illusions shimmered and flickered, momentarily diverting the creature's attention as it lunged towards a phantom image, only to find itself striking empty air.

In the midst of the chaos, Nikolai's voice rang out, commanding his guards to reinforce their defenses. Armed soldiers moved in around them, forming a protective circle as they launched arrows and spears towards the demon. Some projectiles passed through the creature harmlessly, while others seemed to strike true, causing it to emit a piercing shriek that sent chills down Zoya's spine.

The battle wore on, each passing moment a testament to their endurance and resolve. Zoya's lightning continued to dance through the air, each strike weakening the demon's shadowy form. Her cousin conjured pillars of earth that erupted from the ground, momentarily trapping the creature in a prison of stone before it broke free with a furious roar. Genya's illusions wove intricate patterns around them, creating distractions that bought them precious seconds of respite.

But as the night deepened and fatigue threatened to wear them down, Zoya felt a surge of determination. She gathered her power, drawing upon every ounce of strength within her. Lightning arced from her fingertips in a brilliant display of light and energy, illuminating the battlefield with its blinding brilliance. The demon faltered, its form flickering and wavering as if unable to withstand the onslaught.

With a final surge of will, Zoya unleashed a torrent of lightning, directing it towards the heart of the creature. The electricity engulfed the demon in a blinding cascade of energy, causing it to emit a deafening scream that echoed through the night. Shadows dispersed like smoke in the wind, dissipating into nothingness as the creature's form disintegrated before their eyes.

Silence descended upon the battlefield, broken only by the sound of their ragged breaths and the crackling remnants of dissipating energy. Zoya stood amidst the aftermath, her chest heaving with exertion yet her spirit ablaze with triumph. Beside her, Nikolai approached, his expression a mixture of admiration and awe.

"You are more than they say," he murmured, his voice carrying a weight of understanding that resonated deep within her soul.

Zoya looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a mix of relief and exhaustion. "As are you, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

He stepped closer, the space between them narrowing until their breaths mingled in the crisp night air. "Call me Nikolai," he said softly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face.

Her heart skipped a beat at the intimate gesture, her cheeks flushing with warmth. "Nikolai," she repeated, testing the name on her lips, finding a strange comfort in its familiarity.

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of their shared experience hanging between them. Then, Nikolai spoke again, his voice low and earnest. "You've shown me tonight what true courage looks like, Zoya. And I... I am grateful to have witnessed it."

Zoya's gaze softened, her earlier defenses melting away in the face of his sincerity. "I couldn't have done it without you," she admitted quietly, her eyes searching his for any hint of doubt.

He shook his head gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No, Zoya. You have a strength within you that is entirely your own."

Her heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of her Grisha powers. In that moment, she realized that Nikolai saw her not just as a queen in waiting, but as a woman worthy of admiration and respect.

Before she could stop herself, Zoya reached out, her hand finding his and intertwining their fingers together. His touch was warm and reassuring, grounding her in the reality of their shared triumph.

Together, they stood beneath the canopy of stars, their hearts beating in unison as the echoes of battle faded into the night. In that fleeting moment of peace, amidst the remnants of chaos and uncertainty, Zoya and Nikolai found a connection that transcended duty and expectation—a bond forged in fire and shadow, bound by courage, loyalty, and the promise of a future yet unwritten.

And as the first light of dawn kissed the horizon, casting its golden glow upon their intertwined hands, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

Stay With Me

masterlist

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2027

Summary: Zoya takes care of a sick Nikolai, who happens to be down with the flu.

---

The fierce winter winds howled outside, as Nikolai Lantsov lay in his bed, pale and feverish. The once vibrant and indomitable king now appeared frail, his skin flushed and clammy, his breath coming in labored gasps. The room was cold, despite the roaring fire in the hearth, the chill seeping through the stone walls and biting at Zoya's skin.

Zoya stood by his side, her expression a mask of composure that hid the turmoil within. She had seen him wounded before, seen him on the brink of death more times than she cared to count, but this was different. This was an enemy she couldn’t fight, an illness that didn’t respond to her powers or to any remedy they could find.

"Nik," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the wind. "You need to rest."

Nikolai’s eyes fluttered open, and he managed a weak smile. "Rest is for the dead, my dear," he replied, his voice hoarse. "And I am not quite there yet."

Zoya’s heart clenched at his words. "Don’t say that," she said sharply, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. "You’re going to get better."

He reached out a trembling hand, covering hers with a touch that was both comforting and heartbreaking. "Zoya," he said softly, "we both know that’s not true. The healers have done all they can, and even you…" He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

Zoya looked away, unable to meet his gaze. She had tried everything, pouring all her power into him, but nothing worked. The flu was relentless, a silent killer that showed no mercy.

"I can't lose you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Nikolai squeezed her hand gently. "You are stronger than you know," he said. "And Ravka needs you. You’ve always been the strength behind the throne, Zoya. You can lead them without me."

"I don’t want to lead without you. You are the heart of Ravka."

He smiled then; a ghost of his usual grin. "Then you’ll have to be its heart and soul."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to be strong for him, for Ravka, for herself. "I don’t know how to do this without you," she admitted.

"You’ll find a way," he assured her. "You always do."

Hours passed, the night dragging on in a haze of fever and whispered conversations. Nikolai spoke of plans and contingencies, of allies and enemies, trying to prepare her for a future without him.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he knew it was necessary. He had to make sure she would be alright, even if he wasn’t there to see it.

"You know, when I’m gone, you should really redecorate this room. Maybe something less gloomy. Brighten it up a bit."

Zoya rolled her eyes, despite the ache in her chest. "Stop talking like that," she said, her voice hard. "You’re not going anywhere."

"Always the optimist," he chuckled weakly. "But seriously, Zoya. Promise me you’ll take care of things. Of yourself. Of Ravka."

"I promise," she said, her voice trembling. "But I’m not giving up on you. You’re too stubborn to die from something as mundane as the flu."

"I do like to make a grand exit," he admitted with a tired smile. "But just in case, you should know… I trust you. More than anyone. You’ll make a fantastic queen."

Zoya’s breath caught in her throat. "Don’t you dare," she whispered fiercely. "Don’t you dare leave me."

His eyes softened, and he reached up to touch her cheek. "I wish I didn’t have to," he said. "But you’ll be alright. You’re the strongest person I know."

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes against the flood of emotions. "You’re not allowed to die, Nikolai Lantsov," she said, her voice breaking. "I forbid it."

He tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a fit of coughing that left him gasping for breath. "Is that an order, my Queen?" he managed to choke out between coughs.

"Yes," she replied, her voice trembling as she handed him a cloth to wipe his mouth. "An order from your queen."

His smile faded, replaced by a look of profound sadness. "I wish I could obey," he said softly. "But some things are beyond even a privateer’s control."

The night dragged on, and Nikolai grew weaker, his breathing more labored. Zoya stayed by his side, refusing to leave him even for a moment. She held his hand, whispered reassurances, and tried to keep the fear at bay.

Nikolai's coughs continued to grow frequent through the night, each one more violent than the last. The sound echoed through the room, a harsh reminder of the relentless grip of his illness. Zoya clung to his hand, trying to pour her strength into him, but she could feel him slipping away.

The room seemed to close in around them, the walls a silent witness to their anguish.

"Stay with me," she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. "Just a little longer."

Nikolai's eyes flickered open, and he managed a faint smile. "I'm trying," he coughed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's hard, Zoya. So hard."

She brushed a damp lock of hair from his forehead, her touch tender despite the turmoil inside her. "You have to keep fighting," she said, her voice fierce. "For me. For Ravka."

He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "I'm so tired," he admitted. "I don't know if I can."

Zoya's heart clenched at his words. She had never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so close to giving up. She had to be strong for him, had to keep him grounded in the world of the living.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to be strong for him, had to show him that she could carry on. "I can't lose you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Not now. Not ever."

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her with a mixture of love and sadness. "You won't lose me," he said softly. "I'll always be with you. In your heart."

The minutes stretched into an eternity, the night closing in around them. Each cough wracked Nikolai's body, leaving him weaker, his breaths more labored. Zoya's heart ached with every labored inhale, every painful exhale.

"Do you remember," she said softly, trying to distract him from the pain, "the night we first met?

Nikolai's lips twitched in a faint smile. "I remember," he said, his voice barely audible. "You saw right through me."

"And you never gave up," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. "You fought for Ravka, for all of us."

His eyes opened, and for a moment, there was clarity in his gaze. "Promise me you'll keep fighting, even when I'm gone."

A sob caught in her throat, but she forced it down. She had to be strong for him, had to keep him grounded in the world of the living.

"I promise," she said, her voice breaking. "But you're not gone yet, Nikolai. Stay with me. Please."

"Zoya, I. .. I love you."

The words broke something inside her, and she felt tears spill down her cheeks. "I love you too." She leaned over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his burning forehead. "So much. Please, don't leave me."

He gripped her strong hands with his pale and trembling fingers and pressed her knuckles to his lips. "Be strong," he whispered, "for me."

And then, with a quiet exhale, Nikolai Lantsov, King of Ravka, grew still. His hand went limp in hers, and Zoya felt a profound emptiness settle in the room.

He was gone.

Gone.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She stared at his still form, unable to comprehend the reality of his death.

"No," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, please. Come back. Please, Nikolai."

But there was no response, no sign of life. The man who had been her anchor, her strength, was gone, leaving her alone in a world that suddenly felt unbearably empty.

She clung to him, her tears falling onto his lifeless chest. "You promised," she sobbed. "You promised you wouldn't leave me."

She couldn't contain her grief any longer. She screamed.

She screamed, a guttural cry that echoed through the room and mingled with the howling wind outside. It was a raw, primal sound of loss and anguish, carried away by the winds that seemed to mourn with her.

Outside, the storm raged on.

Zoya's heart felt shattered, her entire being consumed by the void left in Nikolai's absence. She collapsed beside his bed, her sobs wracking her body.

Eventually, the healers came, their faces solemn as they gently took Nikolai's body away. Zoya stood frozen, her eyes fixed on Nikolai's still form, unable to fully grasp the finality of his absence.

She watched them go mechanically, her movements slow and deliberate, as though moving through thick fog. The world seemed to move around her, but Zoya felt suspended in a moment that refused to end.

It was Genya's gentle touch on her shoulder that finally broke through the haze. Zoya turned to her, tears streaming down her face.

"We need to go," Genya said softly, her voice breaking the silence that enveloped them.

Zoya nodded wordlessly, allowing Genya to guide her out of the room.

Each step felt heavy with the weight of the loss. As they walked away from Nikolai's bedside, Zoya couldn't shake the feeling that a part of her had been left behind with him.

Outside, the morning light filtered through the windows, casting a somber glow over the palace halls.

"Zoya, we need you. Ravka needs you."

Zoya took a deep breath, steeling herself against the pain. She had promised Nikolai she would be strong, that she would carry on. She couldn't let him down.

"I know," she said, her voice steady despite the tears still streaming down her face. "I'll be there."

Genya nodded silently. She knew this feeling.

"I remember when David..." Genya began softly, her voice carrying the weight of her own memories. "When he died, it felt like the world had stopped. Like I couldn't breathe without him."

Zoya looked at her, gratitude mingling with her grief. "How did you do it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you cope with it?"

Genya sighed, her eyes reflecting the pain of her past loss. "At first, I didn't cope. I just existed, moving through the days because I had to. But then I realized... David wouldn't want me to just exist. He would want me to live, to find purpose again."

Zoya listened intently, drawing strength from Genya's words. "And did you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Genya nodded, a small smile touching her lips despite the sadness in her eyes. "It took time, Zoya. Time and the support of friends like you. I found solace in helping others, in channeling my grief into something meaningful."

"You did everything you could," She murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from Zoya's tear-streaked face. "He knew that. Nikolai knew."

"But it wasn't enough," Zoya whispered, her voice filled with anguish.

Zoya swallowed hard. "I want to honor Nikolai's memory," she admitted, her voice wavering. "But right now, I don't know how."

Genya reached out, squeezing Zoya's hand gently. "You will," she said with quiet conviction. "In your own time, in your own way. And until then, I'll be here for you, just like you were there for me."

They stood together in the alcove, the two women bound by grief and resilience.

As the morning light grew brighter outside, casting long shadows on the palace walls, Zoya felt a flicker of determination ignite within her.

She would carry on for Nikolai, for Ravka, and for herself, knowing that though his physical presence was gone, his legacy would endure in the strength of those who loved him. With Genya beside her, offering silent support and understanding, Zoya took a deep breath, ready to face the challenges ahead with newfound resolve and purpose.

Feel free to argue but-

Kaz. Inej. Nina. Matthias. Jesper. Wylan.

Each of them are the main characters.

Matthias Helvar, The Druskelle

A convict with a thirst for revenge.

Jesper Fahey, The Sharpshooter

A sharpshooter who can’t walk away from a wager.

Wylan Van Eck, The Artist

A runaway with a privileged past.

Inej Ghafa, The Spy

A spy known as the Wraith.

Nina Zenik, The Heartrender.

A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums.

Kaz Brekker, The Thief

A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes.

Six dangerous outcasts. One impossible heist.

The End.

Remnants of Ashes

masterlist

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1097

Summary: Gale Hawthorne, now a Peacekeeper in District 2, struggles to adapt to its ambitious, unfamiliar atmosphere while haunted by memories of Katniss Everdeen from District 12.

***

District 2 was a world apart from District 12, place of stone and metal rather than ash and coal. Gale Hawthorne tried to make this new district feel like home, but the familiarity of District 12's ruins haunted him. The bustling activity of District 2 felt foreign, the people here driven by ambitions and ideals so different from the grim survival that had characterized his old life.

Each morning, Gale woke with the sun. He dressed quickly, leaving his small apartment and heading out into the city before the streets filled with people. His role as a Peacekeeper was a pragmatic choice, but it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He told himself it was for the greater good, to help rebuild Panem—but deep down, he knew he was running from ghosts.

He was running from Katniss.

Katniss Everdeen. The girl on fire. The Mockingjay.

To him, she had been so much more than just a symbol.

She had been his partner in crime, his confidante, his closest friend. But the war had changed everything. They had changed, and now, she was a phantom pain, an echo of what once was.

***

It was a Sunday when Gale decided to visit the training fields. It was a place of order and discipline, filled with recruits who were eager to shape the new world. He watched them sparring, their movements precise and calculated, so different from the desperate skirmishes he had known.

"You're here early," a voice said, breaking his reverie.

Gale turned to see Lyda, one of the senior Peacekeepers, approaching him. She was a tall woman with a sharp gaze, her uniform crisp and spotless.

"Couldn't sleep," Gale admitted, shrugging. "Thought I'd come see how the new recruits are doing."

Lyda nodded, her expression softening slightly. "You still think about her, don't you?"

Gale's jaw tightened.

"Every day."

That night, Gale couldn't sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence.

The nights in the woods with Katniss, the warmth of the fire, the shared stories, the unspoken bond between them. Those nights were gone, buried under the rubble of war and time...

He got up and walked to the window, looking out at the city. District 2 was thriving, rebuilding itself with a ferocity that mirrored his own determination. Yet, it felt hollow.

No amount of anything could fill the void left by Katniss.

Gale sighed and turned away from the window. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small, battered notebook. It was filled with sketches and notes, plans for traps and strategies. But between the lines of his meticulous handwriting were glimpses of another story— drawings of mockingjays, notes about hunting trips, fragments of poetry that he would never admit to writing.

He flipped to a blank page and stared at it. Slowly, he began to write.

***

Weeks turned into months, and Gale threw himself into his work. He trained recruits, devised new strategies, and worked tirelessly to ensure the safety of the district. He became known as a strict but fair leader, respected by his peers and subordinates. But despite his accomplishments, the emptiness lingered.

***

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Gale found himself wandering the outskirts of District 2. The air was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the dusty heat of the city. He walked until he found a secluded spot, a small hill overlooking a valley. He sat down and let the silence envelop him.

"Hey, Catnip," he whispered to the wind. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I need to talk to you."

He paused, taking a deep breath. "I miss you. I miss us. The way things used to be before... everything. I know things can never go back to the way they were, and I don't even know if you'd want them to. But I can't help thinking about what we lost."

Gale closed his eyes, feeling a tear slide down his cheek. "I wish I could tell you this in person. I wish I could see you, hear your voice. But I can't. So I'll just keep talking to the wind and hope that somehow, you'll hear me."

***

As the seasons changed, so did Gale. He found solace in small things—a recruit's success, a well-executed plan, the beauty of a sunrise over the mountains. He began to accept that Katniss was a part of his past, a cherished memory that he would carry with him always.

One day, while sorting through his belongings, Gale found the notebook again. He flipped through the pages, smiling at the memories. When he reached the end, he saw the words he had written that first night in District 2.

"Katniss, if you ever read this, I want you to know that I forgive you. And I hope you can forgive me too. We did what we had to do, and we survived. That's all that matters."

He closed the notebook and placed it back in the drawer. It was time to move forward.

***

Katniss's POV:

Katniss stood by the rusted fence, the setting sun casting a golden hue over District 12. Memories of Gale flooded her mind. Unbidden. Unrelenting.

Gale.

The name alone caused a pang in her stomach.

His grey eyes, always intense, haunted her thoughts. The woods had been their sanctuary, a place to escape the harsh realities of their lives... their laughter, shared meals, and whispered dreams of a future free from the Capitol's grip.

Now, those dreams felt like distant echoes.

The fence, once a boundary she and Gale had often crossed together, now felt like a wall separating her from her past. Katniss ran her fingers along the cold metal, feeling the rough texture beneath her fingertips. Each ridge and rusted spot a reminder of times gone by.

A soft breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth. She closed her eyes, breathing it in deeply, trying to anchor herself in the present. But it was no use. Her thoughts drifted back to the days when she and Gale would venture beyond the fence, into the wild, untamed woods where they could be free, if only for a while.

She could almost hear his voice, low and comforting, as he spoke of rebellion and hope. "Someday, Katniss," he had said, his voice filled with conviction, "someday things will be different. We won't have to live in fear."

But someday had come and gone. The rebellion had happened. The world had changed.

Kanej || HOPE

masterlist // prologue // next chapter —>

---

Kaz

There was a knock on the door.

' What business? '

' It's me, Anika. '

Ever since Inej had left, Kaz had been alternating between Anika and Roeder as his new spiders. Neither were half as good, but he's had to do. They tried their best, but their best was not what Kaz needed.

    Especially tonight.

Unwillingly, he had, weighed his options and sent both Anika and Roeder, praying for their safety. If only Inej had been here.....

   His thoughts wheeled back to Inej..

Inej.

   He could have given her a reason to stay. He could have told her how she always managed to surge his adrenaline, make his heart thump...how she always managed to bring a smile on his face. He could have done so many things...

  Sankta Inej.

She was his Saint.

The saint he worshipped every damn single day, Praying, cussing, Shouting for her to return. But you don't worship a living saint. She would never know his pain. How lost he felt without her. How much he loved her. He could have told her—

     damn it! He could still write her. But formal letters containing information about the slaves were all he sent. Pages after pages lay helter-skelter in his study. Letters he wrote in the middle of the night calling her back, begging her to stay... telling her how he loved her... But he would never send them. If only, he could let go of his ego, his pride...

  'Open the door, boss. I have got some information.' The voice jolled him from his not-so-pleasant reverie, back to reality.

   'Focus, Kaz' , he willed himself.

 'If I didn't tell you come in, there must be a reason. I don't hire impatient spiders.'

    The voice behind the door tensed.

 'Come in.'

    The door creaked open, revealing a harrowed silhouette bearing the weight of a blood-stained, inert form in her arms.

   Blood was slowly dripping from her lips.