The steel behemoth Yamal silently cut through the Arctic night with its bow, sheathed in thick ice-resistant plating.
Time seemed frozen. As though since Genesis, this place had known nothing but endless winter and unbroken night. Wind and snow ruled here alone. They howled in from the ends of the earth, bearing billions of ice crystals that lashed the bridge windows with a ceaseless hiss.
The icebreaker sailed alone between iron-black sheets of ice. Beams from the searchlights on either side reached into the void like golden spears, straining to pierce the heavy, ink-dark sky. Yet they illuminated only the churning snow mist nearby, like towering white spirits. Beyond it, the Abyss remained unfathomably dark.
Crow's news made Amon change course at once. He stopped on his way to the cabin, turned, and stepped back out into the storm.
He had waited months for this chance. At last, his patience was rewarded.
Outside, White Wolf sat on the ground, leaning against a hissing steam vent. The Russian looked utterly unguarded, probably because he had drunk too much. The timing suited Amon perfectly.
By now, Amon had learned who was aboard. Apart from himself, the ship carried three A-rank Hybrids and two beings who held the Crown Rank of Dragon King.
Those two Dragon Kings were Maria of the Stars herself and her perfect clone, Rigerif, who had inherited her name and been revered by the Far North as its new Saintess.
Rigerif's bloodline was so pure that, in the original story, even Odin and Jormungandr had not questioned it. Both had been willing to acknowledge her as their "younger sister."
Two of the three A-rank Hybrids were Rigerif's older sisters, Olrun and Hervor, imperfect clones of Maria of the Stars.
The cloning process had produced clear differences between the clones.