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

Chapter 15

The Masked Wolf

There was a tale of love and death intertwined,

Twisted and sorrowful, unraveling to its bitter end.

But what they missed was the truth beneath the pain—

That though things shatter, they do not truly end.

And so, love became something beyond death,

And death was no longer the final breath.

Retrieved from Otherworld Tales: A Route to Doom

by Lyra Sorrowspring, Ch. 3, p. 54.

The Day of the Incident

Seraphine Ashcroft

The world around her seemed to pause, and Seraphine felt her heart slow—each beat a languid thump against her chest, as if her heart was made of metalwork and not veins. A chill crept into her veins, spreading through her bones and leaving a trail of ice in its wake.

Then, her mind halted, frozen in eerie tranquility, peaceful nothingness. Inexplicably, she laughed—a soft, hollow sound that echoed the situation’s surrealness.

She felt empty, as if any concern in her mind had blown away just like the spring in Coldhaven, leaving only white, pure cold.

The mess, the spilling wine, the creatures, Evren became a blur. Touching her neck, she sensed a faint cut.

Driven by a ghostly curiosity, she approached the mirror. Moving her head, she saw nothing but a mere human.

Good.

However, just right below her neck, close to her collarbone, Seraphine could see an inked symbol, a fox tattoo etched delicately on her skin. Seraphine recalled it was similar to the one the cat sith bore in the Shadowmarket, the same mysterious emblem she had seen in the ancient paintings at the library.

“At least it looks good,”

she muttered, gazing at herself. Oddly enough, she felt nothing.

Evren Wraithwood

It worked.

Evren wanted nothing more than to collapse and let his emotions out. Seraphine was still alive and bound to him.

He surveyed his ballroom—a grotesque tableau of guests sprawled on the floor amidst a macabre mix of wine and blood. Yet, after years, decades—he found a loophole for a curse that bound both him and her—he finally saw a glimmer of hope.

Now, blood-bonded with Seraphine, who somehow could jump across realms, he could use her blood to gain entry to the Otherworld. He still needed to test that out, but after that, they could begin their quest to break the curses binding them. There was so much he could explain, but in his mind, there was no need to tell her more. He would rather have her thinking of him as evil incarnate.

Evren preferred her hatred to her remembering their shared past.

Somehow, he marveled at her. Dancing and holding her close was all he needed. As soon as she entered the ball, Seraphine was the one his eyes could see. She was as beautiful as the strange crimson moon. She was his dream, his doom, his prayer, and his hunter all along. She is everything.

Turning around, he saw Seraphine laughing, totally distracted from the chaos of the castle. Aeliana watched her from a distance, eyes wide with fear. Evren could have told her that it would wear off, that the numbing feeling was just a side effect. But what good would that do for her sister or even Seraphine?

“Didn’t I tell you? That you could become the greatest villain the world has ever seen?”

he said to her, moving closer. Her striking crimson eyes looked at his through the mirrors on the wall.

Seraphine gave him a sweet, forced smile, as if she were a doll made of nothingness. “Didn’t you?”

she said plainly.

Then, she turned around, and again, he could have fallen to his knees, but for the sight of her. Emotionless or not, she was alive. “Perhaps I will be. Perhaps not. You know what I do know?”

“Have no idea,”

he admitted.

Closing the distance, she moved her head so her lips were almost touching his, her eyes a vacant, torn red. He felt every breath, every inch of her body, her hand near his chest. He was a magnet drawn to her, and he wondered if she knew how much power she had over him.

“I know I will kill you. As soon as the quest is over, I will kill you,”

she whispered each word into his mouth.

“Ah! That is not a surprise, Crimson Eyes! I do know that. I expect nothing less.”

He moved to her side, eyeing her again in that stunning dress. “But for now... shall we?”

Evren extended his arm, which she took, her nails cutting into his arm, painful and strong enough to make him bite his lip. She had a dangerous grasp. As twisted as he was, he liked it.

They walked out of his household. There was nothing of value there for him. All of this had always been about Seraphine. Evren dismissed most creatures and commanded the others to set everything straight. The drinks were tinted with a rare herb. None of them would remember a thing from today.

Silently, they walked toward the forest, Evren ensuring that crimson snowflakes surrounded their path. The white snow was tainted in red—a cruel yet breathtaking spectacle. He had promised to paint the world in crimson just for her.

How better to celebrate a plan concocted for centuries than with snow matching the color of her eyes? Yet, as he stole a swift glance at her, she seemed bored.

When they reached the Weeping Forest and the veil, the sentinel tree made no sound, but Evren swore he saw a tear fall from the wood-crafted face.

Bound by a blood pact, he took Seraphine’s hand. “Take me there.”

“Where?”

she asked, moving her head as if trying to decipher him.

He signaled the arched entrance from the tree. “The Otherworld.”

Yawning, she took a step forward. “Are you not forbidden to enter?”

“Yes, I cannot enter, and no creature from my realm can pull me there. But you are human.”

“Well, sounds like fun. I hope you end up face-planting in the snow.”

Emotionless as she sounded, he almost laughed at her words.

As such, Evren held her hand while moving across the arched branches, and just as she wished, he almost face-planted but not on the snow.

In the Otherworld.

Evren thanked Nemera for whatever had been done to make Seraphine able to cross to the Otherworld and hide him under her human essence. When the world turned upside down, and he moved his feet forward, too eager to even look at what used to be his home, he felt everything tremble.

The clocks stopped ticking.

The talking roses and creatures, selkies, kelpies, hags, boggarts—everything went silent, and the night seemed darker, no moon visible.

A welcoming, he thought. Evren was home.

The trees arched, almost screaming—a beautiful, haunting melody to his ears.

Still holding Seraphine, he looked at the sky and smiled, truly, wickedly. He was indeed home and finally had a chance to make it right. Opening his hand, he let some grayish leaves flow into the darkness.

This time, there were no butterflies, no colors or coins. The leaves turned into oily shadows, dark, consuming, veiling him and the whole Shadowmarket.

When the world turned dark, Evren could hear the chaos.

Drip, drip, drip.

Blood ran, and creatures hid.

He was chaos.

This is just the beginning.

At his side, he saw Seraphine, expressionless. She was still becoming used to her heart and their bond, which was more complex than he had ever dared to explain.

However, Evren knew he had made the right choice. One thing was for sure: she would kill him. Sooner rather than later, he hoped. In the meantime, there were deeds to be done.

“Can’t say I missed this place,”

he muttered, releasing Shadoweater and Grimnight along the path filled with creatures. Most were hiding and screaming, and some were even praying to Nemera.

As if that will work for them this time.

Crimson Memories

“Who are you?”

the five-year-old girl asked. She had been running around the Weeping Forest, playing hide and seek with her father, until she noticed a man sitting near a tree.

“No one. Just… another wanderer,”

he replied, and she tilted her head.

What is a wanderer?

“Well, you look sad.”

“Yeah… Sad is too shallow. I would say grim,”

the stranger said, but the little girl laughed, not knowing what grim meant either.

To her surprise, the stranger seemed to smile at her. “So, am I funny to you, little creature?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Before she could say anything else, a voice called her name.

“Goodbye, Crimson Eyes. It seems like they are looking for you.”

He waved at her.

“Goodbye…”

she started but realized she did not know his name. “Goodbye, Grim Wanderer!”

The man laughed. “Clever. Okay, Grim Wanderer, it is, Crimson Eyes.”