Inner Consecrated Snowfield の小説・ストーリー

Looking at 'Snow', my only companion lying on the sofa, I whispered, "I'm coming, baby; I have to see what he wants today." ​I adjusted my dress and hurried downstairs. These Quebec nights are bone-chillingly cold, but inside me, heat flowed like lava. As I pushed the heavy door of the large apartment building and stepped onto the pavement, a white blanket of snowfall had covered the streets. The crunching sound of ice breaking under my thin heels created a strange sense of panic. ​The dark tint of the limousine window slid down slowly. Lucas's grey eyes looked as sharp as swords even in the dark. He didn't say a word; he just opened the rear seat door with one hand.

My chest burned, and I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t make a sound. “Aww, little lovebirds, aren’t you?” Lyun hissed, her voice dripping with mockery and disdain. Rayan shot her a look of pure contempt, then gave me one last glance, one last breath, before stepping away, joining Hertor, who watched me as if he wanted to run to me and stop me from moving forward. But he didn’t. No one did. Only Lyun and I remained there, at the center of the field. It wasn’t supposed to snow at that time of year, but I think the Goddess has a refined sense of aesthetics and knows how beautiful blood looks against white frost. So, slowly, flakes of snow began to fall over us.

It vanished into the snowy ground. It was like trying to find a tiny needle in a big field of snow, but Nancy did not give up. Her eyes were full of hope as she stared at me. "Samuel, I'll find the ring, and then you'll forgive me," she said. She turned and ran to where the ring had fallen, bending down to move the snow bit by bit. A snowflake landed on my heart, making a little splash, but then everything was calm again. Wendy was waving at me from far away. She had gone with me to visit my mom.

My legs were twisted, crushed under the weight of the snow. Shawn collapsed as he finally saw my corpse. The tool clattered to the ground. He stared blankly at my corpse as he shook his head vehemently.

I whispered to no one. But the memories didn’t stop. They twisted into something else and before I even realized it, I was drifting. Falling… Sleep took me like a wave pulling me under. And when I opened my eyes again, everything was white. At first, I thought maybe it was the lights — too bright, too sterile — but then I saw the sky. Or what looked like it. It stretched endlessly above me, with roses, snowflakes falling like tiny shards of glass. I blinked, confused. I was standing barefoot in a snowfield that seemed to go on forever. My breath came out in pale clouds as I wrapped my arms around myself instinctively, shivering.

“We will rebuild the High Hall—not as it was, but as it must become. Where once our banners bore only the wolf and spear, a third shall hang beside them: a snowflake etched in crystal, the sacred mark of the Iskralith." “Our children will learn the Old Names—not as relics, but as living truths. Luna Mirelle will lead their teachings, guiding them through frost glyphs and the legends of the veil. The seers of Silverpine will no longer stand apart, but walk beside Iskralith shadows who come beneath moon-thinned skies, sharing the wisdom that time tried to bury." “Our warriors will not draw their blades at snowfall out of season. They will see it as a sign—a blessing. A reminder that peace stan

I need to get out of this island as soon as possible. ~ ELEVEN MONTHS LATER ~ The sun is hiding; the snow is falling. Snowflakes dance and twirl as they cascade on the ground. A gust of wind blew. A snowflake kissed the glass wall of my office before it descended on its destination. Ivory snowfield blanketed the streets of Manhattan. Building roofs and car hoods held a volume of sleet that will soon melt to give way for spring and summer. Until then, I’m enjoying the sight of the peaceful snowfall.

{TW: Family violence} The balcony overlooked the sprawling woods, now blanketed in a thick layer of pristine snow. The winter scene was breathtakingly beautiful, with the snow-covered treetops stretching out as far as the eye could see. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional rustle of a bird or the distant creak of a tree swaying gently in the wind.

The final morning of the three-day deadline. A fine snow fell across the ice plains. The most common kind of snow in the Northern Territories. The granules impossibly fine. When the wind swept them up, they looked like fragments of crushed chalk. They did not melt when they landed on armor. They accumulated in the folds of the banners. Dyeing the colors of the seven territorial flags into a uniform grey-white. Luna stood on the basalt ridge at the edge of the ice plains. She looked toward the entrance of the tomb.

Lucien looked at him. "What's the First Snow?" Isaac's voice became almost a whisper. "The Covenant's final judgment." "And once it begins..." "...no one leaves the mountain alive."