Dante awoke to a world drowned in white.
Snow stretched endlessly before him, an eternal wasteland of frozen rivers, jagged glaciers, and skies so pale they looked bleached of color.
The cold bit into his flesh, sharper than any blade, but instead of making him shiver, it filled him with an unnatural calm.
His aura stirred, instinctively igniting, and the familiar rhythm of combat overtook him.
But then… something was wrong.
The longer he breathed, the more his body flickered.
His hands blurred, his legs lost weight, and when he looked down, he saw his form unraveling into faint wisps of frost.
He was fading.
"You…"
The voice cut through the stillness like chimes across ice.
A melodious voice that seemed very furious.
Dante turned sharply, and there she stood —
A woman whose beauty could shatter kingdoms.
Silver hair cascaded like moonlight down her back, strands glittering with snowflakes that never melted.
