The Trial of Frost was nearing its climax. Only minutes remained before the full moon would claim the sky in its silvery dominion. All around Yumiko's motionless, ice-encased form, the people of the frost mountain had gathered in solemn anticipation. Snow drifted gently through the air like a serene waltz, each flake descending under the hush of a wind that had softened with reverence.
May and Aurora, the two women who had vigilantly watched over Yumiko since their arrival in Cascade Cradle, now stood paralyzed by a growing tension. Anxiety clutched their hearts, wrapping tightly around their breath.
"Evolution… I still don't understand," May murmured, her gaze shifting uneasily between Leofric and Roderic—two mountain sentries who remained stone-faced, ready to react should the women dare interfere. "Why are they so fixated on Yumiko's 'evolution'? What could they possibly be trying to achieve?"
Yet within the silent statue of frost, the spirit of a warrior still stirred. Yumiko's resolve did not waver. Her warmth, though gradually leaving her bare skin, had not extinguished. The cold gnawed at her body, stripping it of all sensation, but something deeper—stronger—burned beneath the surface.
It was as if Yumiko's consciousness had departed from the mortal realm altogether, venturing far beyond flesh and ice into another place, another plane entirely—one untouched by snow, where her true trial was only just beginning.
Yumiko stood in the middle of an endless white field, the snow beneath her feet untouched, pure, and eerily still. The wind, though cold, did not bite—it whispered. Each flake of ice drifted with intention, swirling around her as if guiding her, nudging her toward some unseen destination. Her long hair flowed with the quiet gusts, strands catching on the air like silk banners in slow motion.
"This place again…" she muttered, her breath fogging before her lips, her voice strained with confusion and weariness. Her golden eyes slowly rose to the sky—an unnatural sight met them.
Above her hung a crimson sun, suspended like a blood-red omen in the pale heavens. It glowed, steady and unblinking, just as it had that day in Bloomsque Hazard—when reality felt like it had split, when time and meaning slipped through her fingers like ash.
Her hand came to her forehead, fingers digging into her skin, as if hoping the pressure would pull clarity from the fog in her mind. "Why… am I getting déjà vu?" she whispered, eyes narrowing. "Haven't I already died once? Or... was that just another illusion?"
She staggered a step forward through the snow, the ground crunching gently beneath her weight, but her gaze remained distant, as though fixed on something far beyond the horizon.
Fragments of moments flickered in her mind—memories distorted like ripples across a frozen lake. The sound of laughter, the sting of betrayal, the warmth of friendship… the heat of battle. Then darkness. And after that—this.
"This world… isn't real. Or maybe it is," she said aloud, her tone colder now, steady. "But whatever this is… it's not the end. I've come too far to disappear into someone else's vision."
The snow swirled faster now. The wind picked up, and from within it, a voice seemed to rise—distant, distorted, but unmistakably familiar. Calling her name.
Yumiko took a cautious step through the frozen veil, the crunch of snow beneath her bare feet sounding distant, almost unreal. The wind circled her ankles like a curious phantom, tugging lightly, beckoning her forward into the silence of this dreamlike realm.
Then she saw it—half-buried in the snow like a memory waiting to be unearthed. That sword.
Her breath caught in her throat. A cold, ancient unease rippled through her as her eyes locked onto the familiar shape of the weapon. Its blackened hilt jutted out at a crooked angle, still wrapped in the same tattered red cloth as before. Faint trails of violet mist hissed from its blade, twisting upward like serpents.
"That sword…" she breathed, her voice hollow, tinged with disbelief. "It's the one…"
She stepped closer, snowflakes collecting in her lashes, yet her gaze never shifted from the blade. She could feel it even now—the strange pull it had, the unnatural presence it carried. She hadn't been stabbed by it, no… something worse had happened.
"I never felt its edge… never bled from it…" she whispered, lifting a hand to her chest as though trying to sense something still hidden within her. "It didn't kill me… it took me."
She remembered the sensation, horrifying and absolute—the moment her limbs stopped obeying her, the fire in her spirit extinguished by a cold hand that reached into her mind and silenced her. Her body had moved without her will, a marionette dancing to some foreign rhythm, her eyes staring but unseeing.
"It was like being trapped in my own skin… screaming and no one could hear me."
Her voice cracked. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"And I was weak. So damn weak. Letting it control me. Letting it use me. And now I'm here again, face to face with it—why? To remind me that I've already lost once?"
The sword began to stir. Snow lifted in a circular draft around it. The hilt rose from the ice, slow and deliberate, its ancient cloth fluttering in the still air. Then it hovered—weightless and dreadful.
Yumiko stood her ground. Her eyes hardened.
"This time I know what you are. This time, you're not taking control. Not again."
The blade tipped slightly—its point rotating in the air until it aligned with her chest, hovering steadily, like a snake preparing to strike.
She didn't move.
Didn't tremble.
And yet she could feel the same eerie pressure from before, that slow and terrifying crawl of possession… as though the weapon still remembered her, and wanted her again.
And the sword hung there, silent and waiting, a shadow of her past threatening to consume her once more.
The blade remained still, suspended in the air before her chest, its darkened steel humming faintly now—as if it were breathing. The violet mist danced around it, coiling like incense smoke through the frozen air.
Then… it spoke.
Not in the way a voice carries through wind or mouth, but in a resonance that seeped directly into Yumiko's thoughts, clear and composed, undeniably feminine. It was soft—soothing even—like a lullaby echoing through the cavern of her soul.
"Yumiko…"
The way it whispered her name, it felt like someone who had known her for years.
"You are not weak. You were never weak. You simply hadn't awakened yet."
Yumiko's eyes narrowed. Her body stayed rigid, yet her heart pounded in the hollow of her chest.
"You fear me. And yet, I've never sought to harm you. I chose you, not to bind you… but to elevate you."
Her fingers twitched at her sides. She hated how calm the voice made her feel. Hated how warm it was—so unlike the chill around her.
"There is fire in you. Rage. Will. Purpose. But it is unfocused. You flail in the dark, chasing justice without form. I can give that form."
Yumiko took a shaky breath. "You took over my body. Controlled me."
The voice did not raise itself.
"I guided you. You were dying. I saved you from vanishing. You saw only loss, but it was survival."
The mist now wrapped slowly around Yumiko's wrist, not binding, just resting—testing.
"Together, we could be unstoppable. Your blade, my soul. Let me lend you my strength. Let me become your sword, not your master."
The sword lowered gently, just enough that the point no longer threatened her chest—but instead waited in offering. Its presence was no longer oppressive, but almost… reverent.
"Take hold of me—not as a servant, not as a prisoner—but as an equal. Wield me. And I shall show the world the full force of your spirit."
Yumiko's eyes flickered faintly, uncertainty wavering behind them, but something else, too. Recognition. Not of the sword, but of the feeling it awakened.
Power.
Belonging.
Choice.
"Yumiko…"
The voice echoed again, lower now, like a secret wrapped in velvet.
"There is something inside you… something buried. Let me show you."
The mist that curled from the blade no longer circled aimlessly. It weaved gently toward her forehead—tender, deliberate—as if placing a kiss between her brows. And then, the cold of the mountain wind vanished, replaced by a warmth that clutched at her chest like a pulse that wasn't hers.
A breath. A hand brushing her cheek. Laughter.
"You were a child," the voice said, "curled against the bosom of someone whose face you've long forgotten… but whose embrace lingers in your blood."
Yumiko's eyes widened.
She saw flashes.
A woman draped in white—hair like a falling stream of sakura petals—kneeling before her in a field of plum blossoms. A soft hum. A lullaby. The warmth of her lap.
"That melody," the sword whispered, "was the first thing you ever heard. Do you remember?"
Tears welled in Yumiko's eyes, unbidden. That song… it existed in her, but she had never known from where. Not a tune she'd heard on ships or in towns—it had always lived inside her.
"Your mother.".
The word hit like a tremor in her soul.
"She gave you her warmth, her kindness… and her strength. She carried this flame in her, the same one that flickers in you now."
Yumiko stepped forward unconsciously, breath caught between grief and wonder.
"She wielded me once. Not in battle, but in heart. She was a protector. A woman who stood between the world and the ones she loved. As you do now."
The blade slowly rotated in the air, not threatening, but reverent—lowering slightly, as if bowing before her.
"You are her legacy, Yumiko. You are the storm she kept hidden, the hope she never lived to see rise. I speak with her voice, not in mimicry—but in memory."
The air turned heavy around her, but not crushing. It was like standing in the shadow of something vast—ancestral.
"So choose," the voice said, now softer than ever. "Not because you are afraid. Not because you are forced. Choose because this power is yours. Choose because your heart remembers the woman who once told you…"
And then, through the sword's voice, came another: fainter, fragile… and real.
A whisper—one that didn't come from magic, but from memory.
"My little spark…"
"…one day, you'll light the world aflame."
The words brushed through Yumiko like a tide of warmth long denied—so tender, so achingly familiar it made her knees buckle. Her hand clutched her chest as the memories crashed down—not in images, but in feelings. The softness of a lap. The scent of plum and smoke. The comfort of lullabies whispered into her ear when storms used to frighten her.
"What...? You..." she whispered aloud, the name foreign on her tongue and yet, so right.
The voice in the sword softened, less ethereal now. More human. "Yes… my sweet firefly."
A woman's voice. Not just magic. Not just an echo. Her voice.
"I'm sorry I couldn't stay to see you grow. The world I knew wasn't kind to lightbearers like us. But I left behind something for you… not just this sword, but a path. A purpose."
Yumiko's breath came ragged now. Her arms were trembling. Her heart was thundering so hard it felt like it would burst out of her ribs. She stared at the floating blade—not as a weapon anymore, but as a memory made manifest.
"You aren't broken. You aren't lost. You're not a mistake."
The voice was firm now, full of the strength of a mother who had once carried too much alone.
"You've cried, you've bled, you've questioned why the world turned its back on you. But I never did. I never left you, Yumiko. Not truly."
The sword shimmered, pulsing faintly with a warmth that pushed away the frost surrounding her. The cold in her bones, the isolation she'd carried… all of it began to melt.
"They'll call you reckless. Unruly. A misfit. But I know what you are."
Yumiko stood taller now, her breath evening. Her fingers were outstretched toward the blade.
"You are my daughter."
A beat.
"You are the heir of flame. The soul of freedom. And when you choose to rise…"
A pause, as though even the mountain winds leaned in to listen.
"…the world will have no choice but to burn bright with you."
The blade finally halted, still hovering before her chest—not piercing, but waiting. For a choice.
Yumiko's eyes—once dazed by the chill of the trial—now glowed with a glint of something else.
Something alive.
"Allow yourself," the voice whispered now, no longer distant but right beside her ear, inside her breath. "No… allow your blade to pierce your heart. Let it shatter the poison that chains you still. Let it carve open the past and free the truth inside you. Once it has… take hold of it, my love. Pull it from your chest, and step forward. Strike the false light—stab this crimson sun—and your evolution will be complete."
The words faded into the air like wind swept over snow.
Then, silence.
Until—
A flash. A sharp chime like glass snapping midair.
The sword launched.
Yumiko didn't flinch. She barely had time to breathe before the weapon crossed the distance—blinding in motion, sharp and absolute. It struck her dead center, its edge burying into her chest like ice catching flame. A gasp ripped from her throat as her body froze, her arms wide, the pain lancing through her like lightning tearing through still water.
Her knees gave, but she did not fall. She stood, trembling, her eyes wide and glistening with tears. The hilt protruded from her chest, motionless, reverberating with some ancient power that twisted the space around her. Her breath faltered.
Then—
"Yumiko," came the voice again—soft, calm, maternal.
And in it, she felt warmth. The arms that once held her. The hands that combed her hair. The quiet hum that used to soothe her nightmares. The voice wasn't just sound. It was home.
"My little spark… you've always had this light. I only lit the first ember. The rest was you."
Yumiko's hand moved—slowly, shakily—toward the blade's hilt.
"You are not the ashes of my past. You are the flame of your own story. Take it now."
Tears rolled down Yumiko's cheeks, but she didn't blink them away. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt. The warmth of the sword burned against her skin—but it was no longer hostile.
It was hers.
With a cry from deep within her soul, she pulled.
The blade slid free from her chest with a glimmering trail of blood—blue, not red—staining its edge. As the weapon left her body, the world around her fractured. The sky above cracked like glass, draining of color. Snowflakes froze midair. Time stopped.
Everything turned black and white—ashen and pale. Even Yumiko's body faded to grayscale, her scars, her skin, her hair. All except for the trail of blue blood that ran down her front and dripped from the tip of the blade. Blue… glowing like a celestial river.
Before her, the crimson sun hovered—now stripped of its warmth and vibrancy, just a disc of silent light.
She lifted the sword slowly.
The world watched, silent.
Yumiko breathed in—and stabbed.
The sword plunged into the pale red sun. In that instant—
"I never truly knew your face. I was just a baby then, cradled in your arms. But somehow, I've always believed that—unlike my father—you saw something more in me. You saw a child whose dream of becoming a sword master could one day become real. And now… even without you by my side, I've found something just as precious. I've found friends. A family. People who stood by me, who saved our city, who genuinely care. So this… this is for you, Mom. And for them."
A massive shockwave erupted from the sun's heart, not of fire, but of cold. A luminous blue ring expanded outward, cutting through the silence with divine intensity. The winds roared to life, howling with new spirit. Snow swept across the landscape, not lifeless, but reborn—sharp and cleansing. The sky reclaimed its colors, the void painted again with soft pink clouds, deep blue horizons, and brilliant streaks of gold.
Yumiko stood tall in the heart of the rebirth, snow swirling around her. Her body returned to color, glowing faintly with blue light, eyes shimmering with purpose.
"I don't know how you died… I was never truly aware. But now—after hearing your voice…" Yumiko's words trailed off as the crimson sun slowly transformed, reshaped by her resolve into a glowing sphere of frost-white and radiant azure. Trails of cold blue flame whipped through the air around her, swirling like a blizzard dancing with fire.
"I swear, I'll never forget you again. I will uncover the truth of what happened… and I won't do it alone. I'll walk that path with the people I love. I only wish I could see your face—just once. To see your smile… to show you how far I've come."
Her gaze rose to the luminous blue moon above, burning like a beacon in the sky. Then, her mother's voice returned—gentle, warm, and fading like a final embrace.
"I know you will, my little spark. Never forget—the moon is your life. You were born beneath its light for a reason. Your powers… they were never meant to destroy. They exist to guide others—enemy and friend alike. Now go, Yumiko. Complete this trial. And bring peace once more. You are THEIR moon. You are MY moon."
The sword in Yumiko's grasp began to glow, its cold edge fracturing into delicate shards of light—each one a shimmering petal of azure flame, scattering like autumn leaves in a whispering breeze. They drifted upward in graceful spirals, dancing around her with a gentle hum, until they began to gather—forming the soft outline of a woman's face.
Radiant and ethereal, the visage smiled—a smile so full of warmth and love that Yumiko's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes trembled, heart aching, as she beheld that familiar grace now made clear. The face of the woman she'd never fully remembered… yet always longed for.
"Thank you, Yumiko," her mother's voice murmured, light as snowfall. "I'll see you… when the time is right."
Tears welled in Yumiko's eyes and slowly traced silent paths down her cheeks, stirred by a wind of memory and feeling. In that fleeting instant, images of her childhood flickered to life—soft hands, lullabies in the dark, a presence that had always lingered within her spirit.
"…Of course, Mom," she whispered.
As the final spark of her mother's smile dissolved into the wind, the broken blade reformed—its fragments drawn together like starlight, reshaping into a gleaming weapon of purity and purpose. The essence of her mother now lived within the blade itself—a soul woven into steel, a bond eternal.
With this sword, she would carry both memory and love forward.
To be continued...