The Crimson Snow (A Realm of Chaos and Void #1)

Chapter 13

The Crimson Fox & the Hungry Wolf

Time halts, and with it, the crimson fox ceases to be reborn,

While the hungry wolf savors the feast of cursed souls forlorn.

As snow turns to roses in a macabre dance, the two become one,

A nightmare for the fearful, for dreamers, a muse.

Retrieved from Prophecies from The Otherworld: The Curse of the Ruling Primal Sith Line by Dr. Raggart, Ch. 26, p. 260.

One Day Before the Incident

Seraphine Ashcroft

Seraphine woke up in a bed of flowers. Roses? She looked around and found herself in a bed of the most beautiful colors she had ever seen. Something tugged at her heart. Perhaps the Grim Wanderer had come by. While she thought that act was meaningful, she also knew it was dangerous. She realized what a horrible thing it was for her to care, to dream, to have high hopes. The girl just needed to stay away from everyone to avoid this from happening again.

Weak and tired, Seraphine kissed the ground one last time before she stood and walked back home. She felt less pain in her limbs, and her clothes seemed dry. For the first time, she saw the sun not as a reminder of warmth but pain.

People eyed the girl as she passed, but this time, she paid them no mind. Whispers around her became melodies of nothing and void.

At the cottage, she moved around the empty house, touching every little mark that Leander had left—the paintings, the memories. She tried to smile at some of her father’s little creations while trying to decorate their home, but it felt wrong, as if an invisible rope was tugging down her lips. Then, Thalassa appeared, almost like a ghost.

Seraphine just looked at her. Thalassa moved and sat near the dinner space, grazing her fingers across the wood, as if she could somehow feel Leander there. “Evren Wraithwood has decided not to cancel the ball. He wants us to go as he wishes to pay respects to your father,”

she said, her voice laden with hurt. “At least there is that. Now that he—”

Her voice shuddered, and Thalassa closed her eyes. “I wish nothing more than for you to stay away from that place. People will go there to pray and commemorate your father’s death.”

How can Thalassa go to such a place? “Are you telling me you are going to a ball with the people that beat my father, your husband, to death just because Evren Wraithwood, who never paid mind to us, says so?”

“It was an accident, Seraphine, and they are still investigating who started the riot.”

“It was not—”

she started, anger replacing the hurt.

Thalassa stood up from the chair, her eyes crimson from crying. Her usual pretty face seemed older, wasted, as if the source of her light and elegance had vanished alongside Leander. “It should have been you,”

she whispered, moving toward Seraphine.

“I know.”

“I want you as far away from the ball, Seraphine. You, you...”

she stuttered. “Your father took pity on you, but this stops now. You have until the ball, and as soon as we are back with my daughter, I want you gone from this place. I don’t care if you end up lost in the forest or even go mad—just be gone.”

At that, she moved out of her sight.

For the first time, she and Thalassa agreed. Still, Seraphine had nowhere to go. Dorah might give me a home in the Otherworld, but for how long? Or perhaps she could escape this cursed town and travel across the woods until she found another town.

Maybe she could find a way out and, one day, call for her sister to join her. If she did not hate her just like Thalassa did now. Seraphine shuddered at the thought.

She rushed to her room and began looking for clothes and items for her journey. She would figure out the details later. Now, she just needed to leave this town. Then, she noticed a small box with a letter on her desk, probably overlooked in everything that had happened. Right beside it was the red rose, still untouched, alive.

The red box seemed elegant and polished, something not meant for her. Yet on top, there was a small note in her father’s handwriting. Stumbling, the girl opened the letter first.

My dearest Seraphine,

I know it is early and you are angry, but your birthday is two days away. I wanted to make sure you found this little present beforehand. In this box, you’ll find a token of my deepest love. It’s intended to remind you of the enduring support that surrounds you, even in the most challenging moments.

Know that our connection is unbreakable, transcending any distance or silence that may come between us. Hold this gift as close as I hold you in my heart, eagerly awaiting the day we can share our stories and laughter again.

I will see you after the ball. There is so much I need to tell you.

I hope you can forgive me.

With all my love,

Your father

Tears streamed down her face. Her birthday was tomorrow. She was born just a minute after midnight. Seraphine had forgotten about her own day since it felt like a reminder of the beginning of a cursed life, only blessed by light occasionally. However, Leander would never. Guilt deepened the wound in her chest. Her last words to him were a mix of anger and hurt. If she had listened.

If, if, if.

If life were measured by ifs, one could drown just with the sound of it.

She took the box and opened it. Inside was a breathtaking necklace with a small fox pendant, likely made of diamonds. It represented all the things she loved—reminders of what she used to cherish.

A reminder of what I have lost.

Regardless of where she went, her guilt would follow her. Even in the Otherworld, this would haunt her. If she was ice, perhaps moving on could make things easier.

“A frozen heart…”

Her eyes widened as she remembered the Grim Wanderer’s tale about freezing one’s heart. A cowardly move from her side to numb it all, but she was tired of drowning in all the sorrows and hurt. Perhaps starting from scratch by removing those feelings wasn’t such a bad alternative.

Coward. Coward. Coward.

Indeed, she was one, but if Seraphine could secure a deal, she wouldn’t care about it anymore. A smile pulled at her lips, not because this felt right, but because in the torment of it all, she yearned to breathe and forget—to wander alone, never haunted by fear, shame, or love. It was a punishment, too, for she would forsake her heart. Yet, she was to blame for a good heart being gone, so abandoning hers seemed like a fair trade.

Seraphine retrieved the purple leaf the Grim Wanderer had given her and dropped it into thin air. Taking the fox necklace, she watched as the leaf began to float slowly, waiting for her. So, she followed, knowing it would take her to him.

It led her through the city center, past the clock tower, and into the Weeping Forest. This time, the leaf guided her under some trees to the hidden and mysterious Wailing Forest.

It wasn’t quite dark yet, but Seraphine knelt in the snow, her tears falling like diamonds, one after another. Her heart was full of hatred, and she despised that she might not feel hate if she played her cards correctly. The wind seemed to stop, and she could see the trees arching like her all around her.

“I-I wish for my heart to be voided and frozen. I do not want to cry or feel pain. I want to run away. I want to breathe for the first time. Help me. I know you are there, please.”

The girl felt a tingle in her neck and looked up to see the Grim Wanderer approaching. He looked regal, still hidden in shadows, and she swore her heart skipped a beat. Out of fear, out of wonder.

The only visible part was his mouth, and she knew he felt for her, that he knew she was coming, not for playful conversation, but out of sheer desperation.

Grim Wanderer

Then, the Grim Wanderer knew he had won. Just as he had planned, the crimson-eyed girl appeared, driven by despair to request the deal he had intended for her.

I have won.

However, the victory was bittersweet, tainted by the palpable sorrow that enveloped her.

It feels wrong.

However, there was no going back now. Seraphine looked like a broken mirror, disoriented, shattered but still sharp, so he pulled his hand out and gave it to her.

She shall have everything, he reminded himself. Still, for now, she had nothing.

Seraphine Ashcroft

Seraphine stood up, marshaling the remnants of her strength, and took the Grim Wanderer’s hand. It felt cold, like the touch of winter itself. Not his usual warmth.

“I don’t care what is required of me, but I need you to grant me the wish you spoke of—the one that will freeze my heart and lessen my pain. I have nothing left—no family, no love, no home. The only thing I can offer is this.”

She placed her father’s gift in the Grim Wanderer’s hand. “This is all I have left, my most precious possession.”

The Grim Wanderer appeared somber, almost sorrowful. He examined the necklace. “A frozen heart deal requires two things,”

he explained, holding her hand. “First, something precious that you are willing to sacrifice, and second, a quest that you must complete before midnight. Seraphine Ashcroft, if you accept these terms, and once the quest is completed, your heart will be as ice, frozen like the perpetual winter of this place.”

Seraphine trusted his words, even if she felt there was more meaning to them. “I do.”

At that moment, the trees around them seemed to moan, and the snow hardened like ice underfoot. The Grim Wanderer closed the distance as his cheek touched hers, and she felt a smile tug at his lips. “Such a pretty thing to say. I would have loved to hear you say that in another circumstance, Crimson Eyes.”

Before she could question him any further, he pulled away from her and looked at the sky. “Thanks for the necklace. I will treasure it.”

He moved again, and this time, he looked mighty, deals and tricks invigorating him like they would any other being from the Otherworld. “Now, to your quest. It is quite easy. Ready to hear my terms, human creature?”

“I am.”

Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than what I’ve already been through these past few days.

“I do like that,”

he purred, and she felt the caress of his tone on her entire being. “Smitten and unfazed. Can’t wait to see more of it.”

Licking his lips, the Grim Wanderer asked again, “You know what, Crimson Eyes?”

Seraphine had the urge to close the distance and feel it all from him. However, caring, liking, and loving were enemies in her mind and heart now. “What?”

“For you, I will make it fun. Your quest is to attend a particular ball. There are instructions you must follow. Ensure you adhere to them, but my guess is that you will mostly enjoy the quest.”

He handed her an invitation.

She recognized it as being the one for Evren Wraithwood’s ball.

“Is that my quest?”

she asked, a little confused. She expected something more life-threatening, like hunting an unusual creature, perhaps catching a brownie, or cursing a house.

Maybe it’s some kind of trick. From Seraphine’s experience in the Otherworld, one thing was certain—there was nothing as easy or truly inoffensive when dealing with them. Ever.

The Grim Wanderer laughed, wearing a wolfish smile. “You think it is a trick, don’t you?”

Then, just as soft as the touch of a leaf, he moved his hand and wiped some of the frozen tears on Seraphine’s cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Well, it is not. But I wouldn’t say it is a simple quest, either. The real obstacle here is your lack of social skills and dance practice. Those may come as a barrier.”

He was mocking her. “Well, going to the Wraithwoods’ household does seem like a painful and miserable quest, now that I think about it. And everyone thinks I am a murderer, so I guess that’s going to complicate things,”

she said, holding the invitation. She was trembling and not exactly from the cold.

The Grim Wanderer moved her hand, the one holding the invitation. Her heart skipped a beat again. What on Brannon’s earth is wrong with me?

“Save a dance for me, Crimson Eyes.”

He took the invitation and opened it for her. The words on the invitation shifted and swirled, forming a new message.

Dear Crimson Eyes,

You are invited to a ball of infinite endings and beginnings, a masquerade of monsters and beauties. Please be present and remain until midnight. You shall not consume any food or drink but are required to accept all dances from those who ask.

I await your presence and hope you enjoy your last night.

Before she could question him further, the Grim Wanderer vanished. Calming her heart, Seraphine thought about this. She thought she might regret it, but it seemed like a fair quest.

“No regrets, no feelings,”

she said to herself.

Enjoy your last night.

Seraphine knew the Grim Wanderer would be at the ball, and for some reason, she wanted to spend some of the final hours tonight talking to him. Maybe she was lonely, but she wanted to feel her heart beating in different rhythms before turning cold as ice. As naive as she was, she thought that perhaps he did too.

Perhaps he felt just like her, lonely.

Feelings. Seraphine was leaving them all behind because she was done with them. Still, there was a feeling she was sad to let go, one that she had enjoyed since meeting him.

Back through the silent streets of Iceveil Square, Seraphine stood some minutes in front of the tailor shop. The town was shrouded in a somber atmosphere. Everyone is at the ball already, she guessed—a ball to mourn her father, a ball that hosted the same people who killed him, who had wanted to kill her before.

Driven by a strange compulsion, raw anger, or pure desperation, she threw a rock through the familiar shop window and entered. She wandered around the small shop she had worked at for years, watching ladies come and go with stunning fabrics and dresses. She had been a fly on the wall, always watching but never the one in those dresses, never the one people would pay attention to.

As she moved past some dresses, she noticed an oddly-looking figure in the middle of the shop. As she neared it, she noticed it was a dress—a stunning crimson gown adorned with scarlet diamonds that glittered across the bodice, its skirts flowing like something from a fairy tale.

It must be a new collection. Those fabrics and colors were unusual, as though they were made of petals and diamonds and tears. “Beautiful.”

“It is just as beautiful as the one this was designed for.”

The Grim Wanderer’s ethereal voice once again intruded on her thoughts. Instead of feeling like she was losing her mind, this time, it felt like a comforting melody.

“I see, must be a beauty beyond comparison,”

she replied to the emptiness of the place, a little jealous of whoever that dress was made for. It was surely a masterpiece.

The shop stirred, and white and gray smoke started to appear. Seraphine heard the Grim Wanderer laugh in her ear, closer, as if he was standing there. Perhaps he was, camouflaged in shadows and smoke.

“Go and check it yourself, Crimson Eyes.”

Then, the smoke vanished just as his voice did in her head.

Alone in the shop again, Seraphine noticed a new addition on top of the dress. “Silly,”

she muttered while picking up the yellow leaf. She wondered if the colors had some meaning. Dorah used leaves, but only dark green ones. He seemed to have a whole forest in his pocket.

There was a message on the leaf. “Made of starlight and roses, for a crimson-eyed beauty to behold.”

Then, the leaf vanished too.

It’s for me. The Grim Wanderer knew she would come here and placed the dress for her. He told her to enjoy her last night, and he was making sure it would happen. Seraphine couldn’t help but wonder how much she would miss the feeling of being marveled by him after the deal was completed.

“Better get to it then.”

Sighing, she donned the dress. The fabric was softer and lighter than she would have guessed. Perhaps it was indeed made of petals and starlight. With him, one could never know. She moved across the shop and gently picked up some accessories, things she never thought she would dare to use—bracelets and earrings. There were some trinkets she guessed were for the hair, but they kept falling from her hair.

“Need a hand?”

The girl spun back and found Mr. Eliah at the door of his shop.

Guilt rose to her cheeks and throat. “Mr. Eliah, I can explain—”

Seraphine could not.

However, to her surprise, he just smiled, paying no attention to the broken glass. “Just Eliah. I am not nearly in my thirties. Sit here?”

He motioned her to a soft couch in front of a vanity mirror.

She could not hide her shock as she sat and looked at herself. Her face showed no signs of the ordeal—no bruises, scars, or wounds. Impossible.

“I thought you would be at the ball already,”

Seraphine said, breaking the silence.

“I have no interest in attending this one. But I’m glad to see you are going. Never understood why you were not invited to any before. Twisted that it was at this particular time,”

Eliah said while brushing her hair, adding curls and weaving in silver metallic flowers and pearls.

“Guess I do not match with the classy and socialite of Coldhaven.”

Eliah choked on a laugh. “I would dare to say the opposite, Seraphine.”

He brushed some color on her eyelids and added tint to her lips.

He finished up her cheeks, his eyes sad in the mirror.

“I heard what happened. There are no words that could make up for the tragedy you oversaw. You did not deserve that kind of heartbreak.”

Seraphine wanted to thank him, but her words got stuck in her throat. She tried not to cry and ruin all the effort he had made on her face.

“And… I saw you,”

he finally said.

“What do you mean?”

He offered his hand to her and pulled her up. “I saw you leaving to the forest without your cloak. You left it behind. I knew it was not you, but—”

But Eliah couldn’t do anything for her. She knew that.

Seraphine turned and hugged him. Maybe there still are good people in this cursed town. Not that it would matter tomorrow. “I know, and thank you for the makeover.”

And for believing her and being nice, she thought but did not say aloud.

A blush crept to his cheeks. “Not at all. You barely need it.”

Eliah moved away from her. “I will go now, and no worries about the… glass. I was planning on re-decorating the place.”

Relief filled her lungs, and she almost laughed.

“Seraphine?”

he said from the door.

“Yes?”

He smiled widely. “You’ll show them all,”

he said, moving out and leaving her alone once again.

As the clock neared the beginning of the dark evening, she looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Seraphine scanned her face and dress. Her eyes were the stars of the show, surrounded by blackness. The dress matched her eye color and skin.

What will the Grim Wanderer think when he’ll see me? What will the townsfolk say? Evren?

Perhaps they wouldn’t even notice her. The dress was a good disguise. Plus, she could play this safe. Seraphine just needed to find a corner at the ball and hide.

Like a ghost.

Carefully exiting the shop, she moved through the streets of Coldhaven. She would not miss this place, but she feared her sister, those who were good, the old clock would also vanish with her emotions. Without feelings, what is left?

As soon as this deal was fulfilled, Seraphine would return to the Otherworld and figure her fresh start out. There is always a new tomorrow. At that, she looked up at the sky and marveled once more at how pleasant the darkness could be, a deep red hue tinting it that time rather than the usual blue.

Perhaps a coincidence.

“It rare is,”

the ethereal voice said in her ears.

She rolled her eyes.