While the king mercilessly slaughtered the villagers, a young couple was huddled together, witnessing the birth of their first child—a baby girl they would name Nix.
Just before Nix was born.
"Gods of the sky," the father prayed quietly, his voice shaking, "I know you've abandoned us to freeze in this endless snow, but please... let my daughter be born still. No child should endure this frozen hell."
The mother, her face pale and etched with pain, reached for her husband's hand. "If she lives," she whispered, her breath shallow from the effort of labor, "promise me something. Promise me you'll end her suffering. And when you do, I'll follow. I can't bear the thought of leaving you alone with the weight of her death."
The father's heart clenched, but he nodded, eyes clouded with sorrow. "For you and our child, I will do anything."
After many long, grueling hours, the mother finally gave birth to a baby girl. Her skin was pale as the snow outside, her eyes bright blue, as clear as the purest water.
Tears streamed down the father's face—tears of both joy and despair. His hands trembled as he reached for the knife, ready to fulfill his promise. But as he held his daughter close, something changed. A soft warmth radiated from her tiny body, as gentle as the first rays of sunlight after a long winter. His resolve crumbled. He couldn't do it.
The mother, tired from the labour, saw the hesitation in his eyes, gently reached out and cradled her daughter. She understood his choice, and though they had prepared themselves for a different outcome, they smiled, united in the warmth of their newborn. Suddenly, she recover her strenghts.
Outside, the village was filled with the sounds of terror—screams, the clash of steel, the dull thud of bodies falling into the snow. But inside, the couple was oblivious to it all, focused solely on their daughter's fragile cry.
What they didn't realize was that Nix's cry had caused the snow to stop falling.
Villagers, who had been resigned to die in the endless storm, now stared up at the sky in disbelief. The relentless snow had halted. Slowly, they began to weep with joy. Some laughed, while others fell to their knees, thanking the gods for finally showing mercy. Even the king, standing amidst the carnage, paused, his bloodied sword dripping into the snow. He glanced up at the sky and, for the first time in years, allowed himself a small smile. He had won. The gods had smiled upon him at last—or so he thought.
Inside their home, Nix's parents were unaware of the miracle outside. The father smiled as he lifted his daughter, his voice gentle. "Look, Nix, this is your home. The village, the sky... all of this is yours."
Nix, soothed by her father's voice, stopped crying. But as her soft, innocent laughter filled the room, the snow began to fall once again.
Outside, the villagers' joyous cheers were replaced by screams of horror. They cursed the gods, and their fleeting hope shattered. Some, in their despair, even considered taking their own lives. The king, watching it all unfold, felt something darker than triumph stirring in his chest. His moment of victory had been stolen by this child.
Nix's parents, hearing the shift in the villagers' cries, stepped outside, confused by the chaos they found. Bodies lay scattered across the snow, and the king stood in the midst of it all, drenched in blood. "What's happening?" Nix's father asked, his voice quivering.
A villager, eyes wide with fear, quickly explained what had happened. The couple stood in stunned silence, horror dawning on them. But before they could react, a single snowflake drifted down and landed on Nix's cheek. She began to cry, and once again, the snow stopped falling.
The villagers, frozen in shock, stared at the sky. Slowly, one by one, they turned toward the couple, eyes filled with both fear and wonder. A voice rose from the crowd. "The baby! Her cries stop the snow!"
Panic gripped the parents as they realized what was happening. They prayed that no one else had noticed the pattern, but it was too late. The crowd surged toward them, demanding answers.
The king, his mind racing, stepped forward, his blood-stained hands raised. "Everyone, calm yourselves!" he commanded, his voice smooth but laced with menace. "You're frightening this family. Give them space."
With a sinister smile, he approached the couple and gently took the crying baby from the mother's arms. "What's her name?" he asked, his voice honeyed but cold.
"Nix," the father whispered, his voice barely audible.
The king's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with dark intent. "A beautiful name," he said softly. Then, turning to the crowd, he raised his voice, booming with authority.
"Everyone, this is Nix! She will grow up to marry my son!"
The parents gasped in horror. Their daughter had just become a pawn in the king's twisted game, and they could do nothing but watch as their world unraveled before their eyes...
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