I walked through the ruined streets of Dordwood, and every step echoed inside me — an empty, dull thud.
Snow crunched under my boot.
I bent down… and saw a dead man.
His eyes were open, glassy.
His fingers were clenched, as if he had tried to cling to life until the very end.
Nearby lay the corpse of a demon — charred, twisted, wings contorted.
And still, I felt nothing.
No pity.
No anger.
No sorrow.
Emptiness.
As if everything inside me had burned out together with the storm.
I looked at the human body the same way I would look at a stone.
And that was terrifying…
But only to the mind.
Not to the heart — the heart was silent.
Seteya
— Zenhald?
I turned around.
Seteya stood two steps away.
Hands on her hips, face tense.
Her eyes scanned my face… then stopped on my pupils.
She exhaled quietly.
— They’re still… red?
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I said nothing.
Just looked at her.
Seteya stepped closer, almost right up to me — for the first time not as a trainer, not as a fighter.
— What’s wrong with you?
— Where are your emotions?
— Right now you’re… empty. And that’s scarier than yesterday’s storm.
I wanted to say something…
But my tongue wouldn’t move.
There was a black void in my chest.
I remembered the Academy.
Rooms that smelled of paper and magic.
My parents. Their voices.
The village. The house. Dreams. Laughter.
And suddenly — it was as if something clicked inside.
I felt warmth.
Weak, but alive.
Like a spark in ash.
The fire inside me… ignited.
The world began to regain color:
shades appeared in the gray sky,
I saw the texture of stone in the ruined houses,
the scent of snow returned to the air.
And in the next moment I realized:
my eyes were no longer red.
— …Thank you, — I breathed.
For the first time in a long while, I smiled — not wide, but honest.
Seteya froze for a second.
Then, to hide her reaction, she looked away and snorted:
— You’re alive — that’s enough. Don’t think I was worried about you.
She left, but her steps were quick — nervous.
The Conversation
I walked back toward the camp.
People were gathering the wounded, wolves were hauling blocks of construction ice, elves were healing whoever they could.
And then I heard voices behind one of the tents.
— Do you think… Zenhald is dangerous? — someone asked quietly. — Did you see what he did yesterday…
— Are you out of your mind? — Finn snapped. — We know him! He—
He stopped.
As if he realized something.
Tara continued:
— We’ve known him for years…
but if you really think about it — we don’t actually know anything about him.
Reinar sighed:
— But yesterday… that wasn’t… human.
Silence.
Then a voice I would recognize out of a thousand.
Elinia.
Calm, cold, but firm:
— He is still our comrade.
And more importantly — our friend.
Even if he’s stronger than all of us combined.
That changes nothing.
— Elinia… — Finn whispered.
I stepped forward and out of the shadows.
— Thank you.
They flinched.
Kyren almost drew his sword.
— Zen?! How long have you been standing there?!
— Long enough, — I smirked.
Finn slapped me on the back.
— You’re normal again! Yesterday… well, you get it… we thought you were about to become some kind of dark god of winter.
— Yeah, you looked like— — Siren squinted, — —you could destroy a city with a single breath.
— And still, you’re ours, — Miella said.
Elinia only nodded.
But her long, searching gaze said more than words ever could.
We laughed quietly — not loudly.
Too many had died yesterday.
But we laughed.
Then someone said:
— Let’s sleep. There’s a march south ahead…
And we lay down.
In one tent, like before.
As if the world, for just a moment, became familiar again.
I lay there and closed my eyes.
And for the first time in a day…
I felt alive.