The Land of Snow was a vast expanse of white. From afar, it looked clean and pristine, like a sacred land.
But if one drew closer, one could smell the blood hanging over the royal city.
It was not strong—not the stench of blood spurting from wounds or the reek of exposed entrails.
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Over more than a decade, it had seeped into the bricks and tiles, blended into the snow, dried and congealed. The scent was faint, yet everywhere.
At six in the morning, a ray of sunlight devoid of even the slightest warmth pierced the eastern sky. The biting wind struck the face of a five-year-old child.
She was held in her mother's arms, her tiny arms wrapped tightly around her mother's neck. She then turned to look at her father, who carried a suitcase and strode forward with a grave expression.
The little girl was too young to understand what a royal summons was, or what it meant to be sent to certain death.
Her world was too small; it contained only her father and mother. So when her normally steady father and gentle mother both showed panic on their faces, the little girl was overcome with terror.
She tightened her little face and furrowed her brows slightly, imitating her father as she looked around—until she saw a shuriken flying toward them from behind.
"Mom—"
Before she could finish speaking, the shuriken pierced her mother's back, punching precisely through her heart.
Thud!
Her mother collapsed helplessly to the ground.
She was dead.
Before dying, her only action had been to raise both arms high, keeping her daughter from falling to the ground.
Two Snow Ninja approached with sinister grins. "See? You just had to run. Now someone's dead, aren't they?"
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