"When a bird is caged, all it has left is its heart… a flame that fades once the mind begins to break. And this frozen heart—who will warm it, if it's drowning in overwhelming chaos? When the path ahead is hidden in darkness, remember this: your mind holds the key that unlocks the way."

  The act of flying is what sets birds apart from other living creatures; you can be sure they love soaring through the skies, far from their predators. They know they have the ability to do it—almost as if they instinctively understand that flying is their most precious blessing—so they trust themselves and spread their wings.

  But this story isn't about a bird that flies freely like any other. It’s about one that has never once glimpsed the light of the sun, living every miserable second of its nearly cursed existence in an abyss of despair and loneliness, locked away at the top of the world.

  Born in a beautiful yet cold kingdom now lost to history, it almost seems as if this poor creature stole some of the snow’s beauty for herself. Her entire body is so white and pale that her parents named her “Eirwen” — which means “snow princess” — to honor how much she resembled the kingdom’s streets when the temperature began to fall.

  Eirwen has never seen a different scene than the one that’s surrounded her since she became self-aware: towering walls surrounded by even higher stone barriers that have forever shut out any attempt to know freedom; long corridors connecting countless empty rooms, lifeless and still; and a throne room where no king sits anymore.

  In this lonely place, her only companions are hopelessness and abandonment. The only thing she ever hears are the fierce gusts of wind from the eternal snowstorm raging against the castle. And the only thing she ever feels is the cold of the frozen walls within the cursed place she calls home.

  There’s no other living being that would even consider keeping her company, since the violent, icy wind would swiftly extinguish any unfortunate life that crossed its path.

  Yet, curiously, it’s not the cold, nor the walls, nor the storm, nor the mountain’s height that keep our miserable princess imprisoned.

  “What lies beyond this stone prison?”

  Eirwen has asked herself that same question ever since she realized there was no escape for her—yet she has never found an answer. After all, there is someone who wishes to keep her in that condition, and letting her leave the dungeon is simply not an option.

  And so, it has been the same enemy, the same setting, and the same misery for a very, very long time...

  "Please... someone get me out of here... whoever you are."

  ...until today.

  "Am I... still alive?"

  Eirwen lies on the frozen floor of the castle’s main hall, just like almost any other day.

  All around her are countless snow figures, which she seems to have been making to cope with the constant stress of being trapped in the same situation for so long.

  She gazes at them with disheartened eyes, then struggles to her feet and heads somewhere.

  “I’m hungry,” she mutters weakly. “I wonder if there’s a way to eat the stones in the walls?”

  The wild plants that used to break through the castle walls have gradually disappeared. And although, some time ago, there were arcane creatures that somehow managed to reach the top of the mountain, the ever-increasing aggression and danger of the storm surrounding the castle have made it harder and harder—even for arcane power—to allow any living being to reach this inhospitable place.

  “…What was that sound?”

  Yet, even against all odds, the world still gives Eirwen reasons to believe in miracles.

  “A bear…?”

  After several deep growls, a bear with ice essentia steps through the castle’s front gate.

  —Luke! —Eirwen cries out in joy. —You came back for me? You cutie!

  Luke is a polar bear who, apparently due to the vast amounts of essentia surrounding the castle for miles, mutated from a wild animal into a semi-arcane creature—explaining his monstrous appearance, icy aura, and snow-covered frozen skin.

  —What are you doing up here again? Did you hurt yourself climbing up? —Eirwen asks, concerned. —You stay calm, I’m good with medicine.

  —Grr —Luke growls, seemingly trying to respond even though he doesn’t understand her.

  Luke and Eirwen met some time ago, back when she tried to hunt him as part of her “survival manual,” which demanded she eat any living thing she saw. The day she tried to attack him, Luke was carrying a large fish in his jaws, and somehow interpreted that Eirwen needed to eat—so he let her join in on the feast.

  Since then, they’ve formed a strange princess-beast bond. And today, just like that day, Luke brings part of his catch to share with her.

  —Hey hey —Eirwen tries to get his attention as she sits beside him. —What have you been up to since the last time you came? Off on some adventure, you naughty little bear?

  —Grrr, Grrrrr, Grarrr, Graaagh, Gnnn, Grrrah.

  Luke clearly doesn’t understand her—but insists on answering “in his own language”.

  —I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean…—Eirwen murmurs, confused. —Did you defeat a bunch of arcane creatures or something?

  —Raaawr!

  —Hahaha, I’ll take that as a yes, —Eirwen laughs shyly, a little embarrassed. —With how tough you look, I don’t doubt all your enemies fall before you.

  After they eat, and noticing Luke is paying close attention to her movements, Eirwen gets up and heads to the royal library to grab a book she wants to read to him.

  —Look at this! —Eirwen shows Luke the book proudly. —This is the world’s greatest encyclopedia of arcane creatures—and I’ve memorized the whole thing! —She lifts the book as if it were a trophy. —Aren’t I smart?

  — Gnnn? Grarrr.

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  —No, I’m not crazy, Luke… I just don’t have anything more interesting to do. Making snowmen is exhausting.

  Luke looks at Eirwen as if he disagrees with what she said. Then, he begins walking toward the room where he first met her, and she follows.

  —Whatever —Eirwen murmurs, having caught that look. —See all these creatures? —she exclaims as she flips through the encyclopedia’s pages. —Which ones have you fought?

  As they walk, Luke seems to recognize the drawings of the creatures. He reacts when Eirwen shows him the Yeti section.

  —Seriously?! —Eirwen shouts, excited for some reason. —I knew there was a powerful warrior behind that cute little face.

  —Raaaagh —Luke roars, as if acknowledging her words.

  When they arrive at the room where they first met, Luke lays down on the floor, and Eirwen lies down beside him. The warm atmosphere from a few moments ago suddenly fades; Luke is not human—he’s a wild animal.

  Eirwen knows her words vanish into the void, that her warmth can’t be returned, and that her wish to be rescued will go unfulfilled. She can’t even ask Luke to stay with her.

  —You know, you’re a strange bear… Isn’t there anything more interesting out there for you?

  Eirwen is silence for a moment.

  —You climb up here every now and then, looking more changed, more hurt, and older each time. What are you looking for in me? —she asks, genuinely hoping for an answer.

  Luke just growls, seemingly tired, and starts to drift off to sleep.

  “Do you feel sorry for me…?”

  Eirwen murmurs, sinking deeper into her thoughts.

  “No… that’s impossible. You’re just a bear. I’m not so far gone as to believe you actually know what you’re doing. Maybe this is all just coincidence.”

  Luke no longer reacts to Eirwen’s words—he seems to have fallen asleep.

  “Suit yourself… sleep well.”

  Letting herself go, Eirwen also falls asleep.

  “I wonder what it would feel like… to fall asleep next to another human…”

  Several hours later, Eirwen lies helpless on the ground, pleading to the heavens with her last tears for the bear in front of her to breathe again.

  “I don’t know how much more of this I can take…” she sobs, staring at the bear’s motionless figure.

  Despite the passing time, she hasn’t moved him, buried him, or broken the ice encasing him—as if leaving him there were the only way to cling to her last shred of sanity.

  A wild bear altered by another’s essentia was never meant to live long, especially not with an essence as immense and uncontrollable as Eirwen’s.

  The very same essentia that froze the castle; the same essentia that created and sustained the worst snowstorm ever recorded for more than fifteen years; the same essentia that turned the tallest mountain in the world into what is now known as “The Mountain of Absolute Zero”; the same essentia that forces people to say: “The one who dwells atop the Mountain of Absolute Zero is the cursed winter.”

  Days pass—or so she believes. In this cursed castle, time seems to have stopped long ago. Eirwen begins talking to the snow statues as if they were real people. She calls one “Mother,” another “Brother,” and starts hearing voices coming from the snow mounds. But the weight is too much for her fragile spirit, and she eventually collapses.

  Days later, Eirwen finds herself once again standing before the castle’s main gate. She begins walking toward it with the intention of leaving. She no longer feels hunger, no cold can bother her, and her body feels light and strong.

  As she steps outside, she sees a vast and beautiful world filled with fantastical creatures and beings who guide her along the path. “What a beautiful world”, she thinks.

  The sun shines like a great aurora, illuminating everything in its path. The clouds sway gently with the wind’s rhythm, while birds and other flying creatures soar through the vast blue sky. The plants dance to the song of nature, and the animals play with one another as if they were one big family.

  At the end of the path, her family awaits, ready to head to the village and take part in a traditional event organized by the royal family. Dressed in beautiful garments representing her kingdom, Eirwen runs happily to meet them, and they begin their walk.

  Along the way, Eirwen laughs joyfully as her relatives make all kinds of jokes and share anecdotes. She loves seeing how everyone is dressed in matching outfits, the harmony they radiate just by being together.

  But strangely, the walk drags on for too long. Eirwen gathers the courage to ask, “Is the village still far?” but her father simply takes her hand in silence.

  After a few more minutes, she asks again—but this time, everyone suddenly stops, standing still and staring straight ahead.

  When she asks what’s wrong, they all turn to face her.

  For a moment, time freezes. Though she sees her family moving, Eirwen can only observe what’s happening around them: the world shifts in an instant.

  All the forest’s trees rot away in a single second, and their branches slowly begin to close in around her.

  The flying creatures start plummeting one by one, disintegrating into pieces as they hit the ground, splattering everything with blood, while the rest of the animals begin slaughtering each other.

  The ground begins to crack; the sky turns red as the clouds transform into eyes, all glaring straight at her, and blood begins to rain down. Eirwen, completely entangled by the roots of the dead trees, watches as the world around her descends into chaos—only to realize that, suddenly, none of her family members have eyes anymore.

  All those who had accompanied her start laughing loudly, their voices deep and distorted, as chunks of their skin begin to fall off, revealing raw muscle and bone. Their teeth drop out, their jaws widen grotesquely, and their limbs stretch and grow unnaturally.

  In an instant, Eirwen notices the roots have vanished. She starts running with all her strength, while the hideous beings that once were her loved ones chase after her. Just when she thinks she’s managed to outrun them, a dark figure appears before her and sinks its fangs into her skull, tearing part of it off with a scream:

  “YOU ARE CURSED!”

  Eirwen jolts awake. Despite the castle’s bitter cold, she’s drenched in sweat, and her breathing is rapid and shallow. She lies still for a few seconds, staring into nothing, until tears begin to roll down her cheeks and she starts screaming uncontrollably—trying to say something, but the emotions are so overwhelming, she can’t put them into words.

  Frantically, she touches her face, as if to make sure everything is still where it should be, glancing around in desperation to see if anything has changed.

  Then she stumbles to her feet and rushes clumsily toward Luke, hoping her nightmare was shared—that his death, too, was only a dream. But upon finding once again the frozen corpse of the closest thing she’s ever had to a “friend,” she collapses to her knees.

  “It’s always the same…” she sobs quietly.

  It’s not the first time she’s had such a nightmare—and sadly, it won’t be the last. The being that prevents her from leaving is the same one that takes pleasure in invading her dreams, reminding her of her suffering.

  Alone once more, knowing that this time there truly is no one left to keep her company, she lets herself fall to the ground, curling up into a fetal position to bury her tears between her bruised knees.

  She doesn’t know who her parents are, even though she’s supposed to be a princess. She has no friends or servants, even though that’s expected of royal blood.

  And she can’t escape the castle where her story began—even though the doors have always been open, and she cannot be harmed by the snowstorm outside, since it is her own creation.

  The feeling of helplessness and loneliness only grows stronger, fueling the raging blizzard around the castle. The icy gusts batter the walls so violently that the entire structure begins to tremble—and somehow, a book manages to slide its way toward her.

  As if it were alive, the book slides to a halt right in front of Eirwen, who picks it up and reads the cover: “The World of Nera and Zaro.”

  A strange little story she’s been reading ever since she first learned how to read.

  This book—her source of hope for so long—soothes her emotions just enough to stop her crying.

  It tells the adventures of two siblings exploring the world of Malar, a land full of secrets, in order to create an encyclopedia of everything that exists and give it to their mother, who is disabled. She had always dreamed of being a traveler, but never got to fulfill that dream—so her children vowed to show her the world through their words.

  “Why can’t I have someone who would do the same for me?”

  For a moment, the glimmer of hope the book had given her turns into frustration and anger.

  “Are there only heroes in books or what?! I exist too!!”

  In the midst of her rage, Eirwen begins crying again.

  “Do they only rescue princesses when the only obstacle is a dragon?! I need more help than any of them!!”

  Her fury fuels the storm outside, which begins creating massive blocks of ice that crash violently into the castle walls, breaking off chunks of the structure.

  “Someone… help me.”

  The chaos caused by the partial collapse of the castle brings part of the ceiling crashing down on Eirwen.

  She stops crying abruptly as the debris lands on her, burying her beneath the rubble.

  “I guess it’s true after all… I’m cursed.”