Amidst the dying flames of war, the sun peeks behind the horizon. The land abound in rivers of blood and carnage, finally seeing its first rays of the winter. Snow drifts from the sky softly, turning translucent in the light. Falling atop cold armor and warm bodies and melting into puddles in an instant.

The night had been endlessly long. A final stand-off despite victory already in their grasps. We can’t let loose, not even an inch. It was the command that echoed in every soldier’s head, as the throne finally saw a new emperor taking seat.

He Xuan’s face is clean of blood, his eyes cold and dark. There is no vicious sense of victory on his face as he sees the mess the land has become between the fight of three. Hua Cheng feels a sense of odd relief at the quiet aftermath. Finally relaxes, after seeing the other keep his usual calm.

It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks now.

This land is now theirs. Finally cleansed off of battle, in hopes of a future that would not shed more blood.