Prologue. Day 0 — The Long Winter

Malvika smiled and skipped along, humming off-key, her black ceremonial robes fluttering around her ankles.

"La-la-la..."

Her soft voice travelled clearly through the air, where no other sound stirred. It struck the walls of the giant crater around her and began to echo, as though the crater itself were singing along with her.

The ground, a sprawling expanse of ash, vibrated slightly, resonating with the song. Meanwhile, lazily drifting soot caught the dim light; a spotlight for its queen in black. The crumbled ash faces, half-buried, served as the audience.

After moving a few paces, Malvika turned in a slow circle, fluttering her robes like a girl mid-twirl at her favourite festival.

The ash rose with her—obedient, delighted, a half-second behind her like a third limb—and fanned out across the crater in lazy, curling arcs. It had been doing that for an hour now. Wherever she stepped, it gathered close, patient as a dog waiting to be noticed, then scattered when she laughed or looked at it.

“What to do? What to do?” she said, increasing her pace. “Big day tomorrow. I should preserve my strength, but playing a little should be fine. Right?”

She looked around. Not a soul other than her was in sight; only a whisper of wind blew past her.

"No fun," she scoffed. "I should look for playmates."

She crouched beside a half-crumbled ash face, its mouth forever frozen in a scream.

"Hello. Can you tell me where I can find fun?"

She tilted her head, listening. "That way? Thanks."

Suddenly, a voice echoed through her mind and a screen appeared in front of her:

[Calculation Complete]

[NOTICE: 50,342,243 souls purified.]

[Soul Grace evolution threshold met. Proceeding to Stage IV.]

Malvika swiped at the notification like batting away a fly. It stuck. Still there when she opened her eyes again.

[Stage IV/X Soul Grace Reached.]

Not now. She covered the message with her palm. A new notification appeared over her hand:

[UNIQUE TITLE ACQUIRED: The Ash Queen.]

"Lord Operator, it's my playtime right now. I'll check your gifts later," Malvika closed the messages.

...

[ALERT: Ascetic Exhaustion.]

[Your zeal has exceeded your physical limits. Forced cooldown state activated for 10 Days.]

"Agh!" She clenched her fists, and glared at the gray sky. "Lord Operator, please be quiet."

Looking down at her feet, she said softly, "I did good. Good gets playtime...No?"

Ash began swirling around her legs. The ground vibrated in steady pulses, and the air turned heavy and oppressive. Malvika pushed herself off the ground. She rose through the raining ash, high above the crater, toward the looming black sun in the sky.

Hundreds of towering structures had already fallen. Hundreds more continued collapsing across the horizon.

Other than the muffled noise of ash structures crumbling in the distance, no sound traveled nearby. The scent of perfume and earth had long since been stripped from the world; only sulfur and ash flowed in the air.

All that remained of a once-flourishing civilization was ash—an endless expanse of absolute grey.

Looking over the ashen world beneath the black sun, the Ash Queen inhaled the scorched air and charcoal-thick dust.

"Perfect."

After soaking in her handiwork a little longer, her gaze fell on a patch of land lined with ash statues. She flew over and sat beside a small statue that crudely resembled a boy.

The boy was running after a ball, with a few friends behind him. Malvika studied the boy’s face. Dust and soot from the ashfall clung to it. She gently blew on it.

Shhh.

Half the statue’s face blew away with the dust.

"Oops." Malvika scooped up some ash from the ground and placed it where the boy’s face had been. "This will make you all better."

A few minutes later, she was done sculpting the statue. "There. Fixed."

It was not.

Malvika let out a breath of relief...and blew away the entire face this time.

With a blank stare, she looked from the ash to the headless boy statue and back a few times. "Nope. Not doing this again."

She rose and walked over to another boy’s statue. "I’ll just ask one of your friends."

This one was missing an arm, but Malvika did not notice it, or at least pretended not to.

She leaned close to the statue's uncaring ears and asked softly, "Can I play too?"

The boy could not answer. It did not have to.

"Three seconds of silence is a yes."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

Malvika rose with a puffed-out chest. "It’s playtime. Now, where’s the ball?"

She looked around, but found no trace of any ball.

"No ball?" She shrugged. "Don't worry. I'll make you guys one."

She flicked a finger. The ash came alive, taking the shape of a ball. She took a few steps back, then dashed toward it, kicking it with all her might.

Thwack.

The ball ruptured, exploding into a burst of grey. The ash—sticky, scorched, filled with bone dust and marrow—tangled in Malvika's hair, clung to her clothes, and stuck to her cheek. She smiled, not bothering to wipe the dust away.

"Football's getting boring." She let out a quiet sigh and lazily flopped back onto the ground.

Absentmindedly, she twirled her hair. "Teo would've been so mad if he heard me say that."

"He would've probably said something like," she pinched her cheeks apart, imitating, "Vik! Stop slandering football...then-then..."

She tapped her lips trying to remember his words. "Must've said something witty, I bet."

"Heh."

She began making small knots of her hair. "Never understood his obsession with football...or with me."

After a minute of silence, she continued, "Speaking of the Spires... I wonder what sis would think of me, playing in the dirt like a commoner. Well, she’s not here to scold me."

She spread her arms and legs and began moving them up and down, forming crude snow angels in the ash.

"I'll be busy after tomorrow. Might as well rest while I still can."

She curled up, the ash cradling her, and fell asleep.

Tired. Happy. Empty.

Far from Malvika, atop a crumbling building, a man with deep crimson hair appeared in a flowing red leather jacket. Soot rained down and settled on his shoulders and hair.

"What a mess she's made," he muttered, walking to the edge.

Squinting, he searched the vast ashen plain. Finding Malvika amidst it was like finding a saint in a graveyard.

"No wonder it's taking this long."

Before long, his eyes caught a tiny white speck shifting. He focused harder—thin strands of auburn hair, a human face not turned into ash, and finally two eyes peacefully shut in sleep.

"Bingo."

"There you are, little saint." He smirked. "You ought to be killed for kicking up this much dirt."

He extended a hand, and a crimson bow materialized in it. He drew the string back, an arrow appearing between the string.

A deep breath. He aimed the arrow at Malvika's heart.

Slowly he began to loosen his grip on the string. Just as he was about to release it, his gaze fell on the crater behind her.

Memories of the structure that had once stood there flooded his mind. He remembered the frail bodies curled against the pavement. The silence that followed after the cries stopped. The stench of clothes drenched in chemicals and gore.

His draw hand trembled. With a look of disdain, he lowered his bow.

"Long overdue," he hissed, gritting his teeth. Then he vanished without a trace.

Meanwhile, Malvika’s breathing remained even and calm. Her body stayed relaxed, her hair dangling in front of her closed eyes.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open.

The ash around her surged outward in a giant ripple before settling.

She did not move an inch. Her eyes simply locked onto the distant, crumbling building where the archer had stood.

Unblinking. Calm. Empty.