II. Cold

Winter has come.

A veil of languid blues and purples is cast over the world, an ill-omened harbinger of an all-consuming chill. The incandescent, fiery licks of summer’s passion have faded to embers, pulsating with a heartbeat of dormant frenzy somewhere far below the wall of snow. Their flames will rise to the howling call of the wind again, but for now they lie, hapless but undoubtedly alive, in the dank catacombs of the new icy empire.

This is a battleground, but to call it a “battle” at all would be a misnomer. The land was entirely swallowed under the duress of the indefatigable frost; winter’s fleet had dealt piercing strikes onto the flesh of the estival beast, and its resounding cry rang hollow throughout the farthest reaches of winter’s dynasty as its blood turned utterly cold.

Trees yet stand as obelisks, enduring detritus of the great destruction. Once lively, they are now woebegone prisoners of war, reduced to crude barnacles sprouting from winter’s hide. Hundreds of them line up along the plains, all reaching towards the dying warmth of the sun for solace but grasping onto the sands of futility instead.

Indeed, a most grim fate has eclipsed this kingdom.

But somewhere out in the unimaginable beyond, a feeble seed of apricity slips through the cracks in its shell. If you look closely enough, even in the densest of winter winds you can see it begin to blossom. It calls out to the downtrodden trees, forcing out a strained whisper that rallies them and reignites their hope.

No empire can last forever, and the winter’s is no exception. The seed of summer will blossom into a rose, melting away the flurries of snow and spurring the plants and animals back to life. Its fury will burn as bright as before, and in time that fury’s zeal will be quelled once more by the strident tranquility of the great cold.

And this cycle will continue for as long as the world remains whole.

From u/mrvxv on reddit