All That Remains Forever Cold Novels & Stories

[COUNTDOWN TO ETERNAL FROST: 48 HOURS, 11 MINUTES. Forty-eight hours. That was all humanity had left before the world froze solid. But as I looked around the underground fortress—the endless supplies, the sealed vaults, the man standing silently beside me—a cold smile slowly spread across my face. Ruthless. Certain. Ready. Let the frost come.

Unbreakable. Forever.

Now, it would be rebuilt on truth. And the legacy would live on—forevermore.

Only remembered. Only loved. And in that love, I live forever. The rejected moon was never broken. It was only waiting to be seen. ---

Maria POV The cold here had a texture. It was not the cold of winter, not the kind a person could bundle against and outlast. It was the cold of stone that had not seen sunlight in fifty years, cold that rose up through the floor into the bones and stayed. The kind of cold I had read about in books once and dismissed as gothic exaggeration. I was finding out it was not exaggeration. I was finding out it was inadequate.

Some men leave the world to forget. Kael left it to protect what the world must never remember too soon. And now, as the wolves whisper again beneath a cold and ancient moon, he wonders if it was ever his choice at all. The mountains were colder here. Not merely in the way winter laid itself upon stone, but in memory—the cold that sharpens the mind, that cuts to the quick of bone and soul. This was the Deepwilds, a place where even time learned to walk softly. Every footfall of wind sounded like an old story closing, or a prophecy trying to speak through lips frozen by regret.

What was so broken within me that not even fate could persuade them to stay? And within that realization, I felt a terrible despair. A deep longing for something I knew I could not have. The silence was broken only by my ragged breathing. This was not a man touched by love, or desire, nor the promise of a bond that could span a lifetime.. At this point, he was clearly a cold-blooded strategist willing to deviate from what was meant to be. This was the horrifying truth about his character. My hand instinctively returned to my neck, tracing the faint warmth of the mark, which he refused to acknowledge.

And this time, there would be no survivors on the wrong side of it. Reynolds’ POV The world had gone quiet. Not the kind of quiet that follows peace. No, this was the silence of the end. The kind that hums in your ears when you know the final act has begun. I sat alone in the empty bunker beneath what used to be Diane’s lair—smoke-stained, bones charred in the walls. The ghosts didn’t whisper here anymore. They screamed. And I welcomed it. My fingers danced along the edge of the old photograph.

All in. Forever.