Blood on Snow

The cold mountain air spread a cloud of white vapor with each breath. The bone-chilling wind dancing through the pine trees carried snow in its wake. Arash sat on his knees with his hands bound, as snow relentlessly settled on his shoulders and washed away the dried blood on his forehead. Not far away, his wife Sara and their eight-year-old daughter, Nika, were kneeling in the same manner.

The black-clad soldiers of Sergeant Kaveh—known throughout the region as "the Butcher of the Mountain"—had formed a circle around them. Twelve strong men armed with polished swords and poisoned daggers, their dark uniforms emblazoned with the mark of the Red Wolf. Only the wind and the soldiers' heavy breathing broke the silence.

Kaveh approached with slow, heavy steps. His gaze was cold, lifeless eyes that seemed never to have known kindness. His rough fingers traced the hilt of his dagger, metal gleaming in the frigid air.

"Do you know why we're here, Arash?" His voice was quiet but carried the resonance of death. "I'll ask you one last time... where is the rebels' hideout?"

Arash raised his head, the snow that had settled on his light hair falling away. In his eyes swirled a mixture of confusion and anger.

"By the God of the heavens, I know nothing." His voice was hoarse, his throat raw from previous screams. "We're just a simple family, we mind our own business."

Kaveh smiled, a smile that never reached his eyes. "I don't believe you, Arash. Reports say you've been sheltering rebels. People who betray the king."

Arash looked desperately at his wife. Sara, with tear-filled eyes, was trying to give their daughter a reassuring smile—a daughter who trembled with fear.

"You're mistaken. We... we don't know any rebels. We just work our land. From dawn till dusk."

Kaveh gestured to one of his soldiers. The man immediately stepped forward and, with one motion, grabbed Sara's hair and pulled her head back. The cold, merciless blade of a dagger was placed against the skin of her throat.

"You're not a good liar, Arash." Kaveh took a few steps closer. "Your neighbors say otherwise. They say they hear noises from your house at night. They say they've seen men in black robes coming and going from behind your house."

"Lies!" Arash shouted, struggling to stand, but two soldiers firmly held his shoulders. "Whoever said that is lying! We... we just..."

Kaveh raised his hand. "There's plenty of time for talking. But for staying alive... not so much."

Sara, with a voice trembling from fear, said: "Please... release our daughter. She's just a child."

Kaveh nodded and looked at the soldier. "Time for real answers."

"No!" Arash screamed. "I swear, we know nothing! Nothing!"

A heavy silence filled the space. Sara's eyes were fixed on Arash, eyes that seemed to want to etch her husband's face into memory one last time.

"That's a shame." Kaveh shook his head. "Watch."

With one swift, ruthless movement, the soldier slit Sara's throat. Warm blood splashed onto the snow and vaporized, as if the thirsty earth was swallowing the blood. Sara's eyes widened, her hands desperately reaching for her throat, and then slowly, like a leaf falling from a tree, she collapsed onto the snow.

"Mommy!" Nika's scream tore through the mountain silence, a cry that seemed to reach the depths of the sky and never return.

The world stopped for Arash. His wife, the young woman who started each day with her smile, the mother of his child, was dying before his eyes, and he was powerless. Sara's blood had turned the snow red, a color that seemed to penetrate the depths of Arash's soul.

Kaveh took a step toward Nika, who was now huddled in a corner. "Now it's your daughter's turn. Unless you open your mouth and tell us where the rebels are."

Arash no longer heard Kaveh's voice. Something was breaking inside him, like an ancient dam suddenly collapsing. A warmth rose from the depths of his being, not anger, but something older, wilder, and more instinctive.

The Release of the Wild Nature

"Puff... Puff..."

Kaveh turned his head. It was the sound of someone falling on the snow. Arash was on his knees.

"Why did you fall?" Kaveh asked, his tone mixed with contempt and confidence. His work was finally done, or so he thought.

Arash gave no answer. Kaveh took a step forward and suddenly saw something that stopped him in his tracks. Arash's fingers... their skin was changing. Turning gray.

"What is this?" he muttered under his breath. His heartbeat quickened. They had taken the stone, the source of all Arash's powers. He had personally given the order.

Gray streaks crawled up from Arash's hands, like a black serpent coiling around his body. Kaveh felt something collapse inside him. Fear? Unlikely. He had forgotten fear years ago. But this... this was something else.

"Be ready!" he ordered his soldiers, but his voice lacked its usual authority.

The tight ropes around Arash's wrists suddenly stretched. The sound of "snap" as the ropes tore echoed in the cold air.

Kaveh, his eyes widened more than usual, turned to his senior soldier. "Didn't you take his power stone?" His voice reflected both anger and fear simultaneously.

"I did, sir." The soldier pulled out a small leather pouch from his belt. "It's right here."

Kaveh glanced at the pouch and stared back at Arash. "Then where is this power coming from?" He gritted his teeth. "Can he use other power stones too?"

His elderly advisor, who had been silent until that moment, said in a trembling voice: "That's impossible, sir. Ashborns can only draw power from their original stone. Even with their stone, their power is limited to creating gray mist to obscure vision and escape... not this..." His hand extended toward Arash. "No Ashborn in history has ever been able to use another stone..."
"Then what is happening?" Kaveh growled, gripping his sword tighter.
"Unless..." The advisor paused, as if afraid to voice his thoughts. "Unless he isn't an Ashborn at all."

Kaveh's mind raced. "Impossible. Everyone knows Arash is an Ashborn. So what is this? What's happening?"

His hands trembled on the hilt of his sword. He couldn't remember the last time his hands had trembled.

Arash raised his head. Kaveh's breath caught in his chest when he saw his golden eyes. Eyes that were brown just moments ago. At the same time, Arash's hair became black and longer, as if a living shadow had enveloped him.

"Impossible. This is impossible." Kaveh's mind screamed. He had calculated everything. Arash without that stone was just an ordinary human. At least that's what he had been told.
Arash's gaze turned toward Mamand. Even from a distance, Kaveh could see the fear in the boy's eyes.

A soldier who looked younger than the rest, with the audacity born of fear, took a step forward. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. "This is a trick!" he shouted, his voice louder than intended. "Ashborns have no power without their stone! He's just a worthless liar!"

Kaveh wanted to warn him, but it was too late. In a fraction of a second, something that Kaveh could only identify as a dark shadow passed by him. Arash had moved with impossible speed.

"Click."

The sound of breaking bone echoed in the air. The soldier was still standing, but his head was bent at an unnatural angle. A second later, his body fell onto the snow.

Kaveh raised his sword. His mind was still occupied with one question: "What kind of stone user are we facing?"

Kaveh, trying to hide his fear, shouted with a trembling voice: "Fools! Kill him now!"

The first soldier rushed toward Arash with his sword, but couldn't even land his blow. Arash, moving faster than the eye could follow, like a shadow in the mist, appeared behind the man. His hands—now with sharp, powerful claws—tore the soldier's throat with one precise movement. Blood spurted out onto the snow and Arash's expressionless face.

Two more soldiers attacked simultaneously. Arash threw one back with a powerful blow to the chest—the sound of breaking ribs echoed in the winter silence. The second soldier managed to cut Arash's arm, but Arash didn't even notice.

With a calculated movement, Arash grabbed the man's hand and crushed it with a brief squeeze. The cry of pain echoed through the mountains, but was quickly silenced by another blow from Arash.

The remaining soldiers watched this scene in horror. Kaveh shouted with anger mixed with fear: "There are twelve of you and he's just one! Kill him!"

Arash leaped into the group of soldiers. His movements were calculated, swift, and deadly. They fell one after another. One soldier tried to escape, but Arash appeared behind him with a high jump and with a quick motion, broke his neck.

Another soldier, a young man who was probably newly recruited, had fallen to the ground and was desperately backing away. "P-please... I... I was just following orders. I didn't want to..."

Arash paused for a moment. Something deep in his golden eyes changed. Perhaps a moment of doubt... but the image of Sara lying lifeless on the snow came back to his mind. Without a word, he plunged his claw into the soldier's heart.

Kaveh, now alone, held his sword in front of him with trembling hands. His face was pale, his gaze no longer carried its former arrogance. "You... what are you?"

Arash walked slowly toward him, each step leaving a trail of blood on the snow. "I am the last thing you will ever see."

Kaveh threw his sword at Arash with all his might. Arash caught the blade in mid-air and slowly, as if it were a thin branch, bent it. The metal surrendered with a moan-like sound.

"Let me go... I'll give you anything you want." Kaveh knelt. "Flame Stones, Gold, anything..."

Arash came closer, his shadow falling over Kaveh. With a voice barely resembling a human's, he whispered: "Just let go... this is the end of your path."

With a quick and powerful motion, he placed his hands on either side of Kaveh's head. The sound of his skull crushing was the last sound that echoed across the snowy plain.

After the Storm

When all the soldiers were dead, a heavy silence fell over the area. Only the sound of the wind and Arash's deep breaths could be heard. He slowly walked to his wife's body and knelt beside her. Sara's blood had frozen on the snow; her face looked peaceful, as if she had fallen into a deep sleep. Arash ran his hand over her cold cheek.

Gradually, his body began to return to its normal state. His muscles relaxed, regaining their natural size. His eyes gradually changed, the brilliant gold returning to dark brown, the vertical pupil becoming round again. Only his hair remained black and long, a sign of what had happened.

The sound of quiet crying caught his attention. Nika had taken shelter behind a rock, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity.

"Daddy...?" Her voice was so soft it was barely audible.

Arash looked at his daughter, tears welling in his eyes. Something inside him had broken, something he could never restore. "Nika... I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see this."

Nika cautiously emerged from behind the rock. Her lips were trembling. "How... how did you do those things?"

Arash took a deep breath and approached his daughter. He knelt to be at her level. There was still blood on his face, but his eyes were full of sorrow. "Nika... what you saw today needs to remain a secret.

Cold wind waves, Deep Silence in the Mountains, Rivers of Blood are Creating a scene,"This power... it must came sooner.... w... why...  my wife"

Nika looked at her mother's body, tears flowing down her cheeks. "Mom... Mom's not coming back, is she?"

Arash lowered his head, a lump in his throat. "No, sweetheart. Mom won't come back to us." Then he extended his hand. "We need to go. It's not safe here anymore."

"Where are we going?" Nika asked, hesitantly taking her father's hand.

"To Aunt Azar's. It's safe there for now." Arash glanced at Sara's body. "We can't leave Mom here. We need to take her with us."

He carefully lifted Sara's lifeless body into his arms. Her weight was heavy, not physically, but from the burden of grief that had settled on Arash's shoulders. Nika held her father's hand, and they slowly moved toward the path that led to Aunt Azar's village.

"Daddy..." Nika asked in a trembling voice. "Those bad men... will they come looking for us?"

Arash paused for a moment, his gaze on the horizon. "I don't know. But if they do..." he paused, not wanting to complete the sentence. "We just need to be careful. What I am and what I can do must remain between us. Understand?"

Nika nodded. "A secret. Like Aunt Azar's stories."

"Exactly."

The snow continued to fall, erasing the bloody footprints, as if nature wanted to forget what had happened. But Arash knew he could never forget. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Sara's face, her smile, her eyes in that final moment.

With each step he took, with each breath he drew, something inside him changed. Grief, anger, and guilt intertwined. He didn't know what fate awaited them, but he knew one thing: he could never return to his former life.

And perhaps that was the most frightening change of all.

...

Footsteps on snow... "So much Blood. Who could've done this?" 

Scarlet frost—it's like a beautiful nightmare, crimson against pure white. 

"The one who did this can't go far. Bring me the Search Stone."The soldier, as fast as he could, brought the glowing azure stone to his master. 

The Kindled's eyes flickered with ancient fire as his fingers closed around the stone, channeling magic that no ordinary man could command. 

"Follow me. He is near."