DANTE

Nana sat across from Dr. Hector, her fingers gently tracing the edges of the table as she recounted the painful memories. Her eyes were distant, as though she were reliving every moment, every detail.

"So you see, he did save my life…" Her voice wavered slightly, the raw emotion breaking through her calm façade. "The scientists… they were all so stupid, so obsessed with turning me into some kind of machine, some tool. They never thought of the one thing that could've kept me human—him."

Dr. Hector remained silent, watching her intently, knowing better than to interrupt. Nana's words had always been guarded, calculated. But now, there was something raw in her tone. Something real.

Her lips trembled as she continued, her gaze fixed on some distant place. "They should've just removed my brain entirely. They should've just turned me into a robot, like they wanted. But they didn't, did they? They couldn't. Because I… I still remembered him. His embrace, his warmth. I remembered everything." Her eyes closed, and for a fleeting second, a tear slid down her cheek.

The sterile hum of the lab filled the air, the fluorescent lights casting a cold glow over the metal surfaces. Nana sat across from Dr. Hector, her eyes narrowed with quiet suspicion.

"Why would they lie to me about the past?" Nana's voice was steady, but the weight of her words lingered in the air. "Why hide the truth?"

Dr. Hector sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. His fingers drummed against the desk, hesitant.

"Because, Nana…" he began, his tone low and cautious, "according to official records, you died years ago."

Nana's eyes widened.

"What are you talking about?" she whispered, gripping the edge of the table.

Dr. Hector leaned forward, voice dropping to a near whisper. "Your existence now… it's not supposed to happen. The government doesn't know you're alive. If they did, it would raise questions we can't answer."

Nana stared at him, heart pounding. "Then what am I doing here?"

"You're a ghost in the system," he replied, his expression dark. "And ghosts aren't meant to walk among the living."

She cut him off, her voice rising with frustration. "No, you don't get it, You think you can control me, like they did. But you can't, Dr. Hector. You can't erase what he gave me. You can't erase who I was. And he—he would be the happiest person to see me alive, free from all of this."

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "But people like you—people who think they can play god with us—ruined everything." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she finally let the tears fall, unable to hold them back any longer.

Nana leaned in, her eyes cold and unyielding. "And the face you're wearing… I already know you're fake, Belson."

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

Dr. Hector's face softened, guilt and understanding dawning in his eyes. "Nana. I'm the only one keeping you safe."

Nana exhaled slowly, looking at him one last time, her voice a little quieter but filled with finality. "Nope, I can survive alone"

She stood up, her gaze unwavering, as if daring him to challenge the truth she had just laid bare. Dr. Hector remained seated, his heart heavy with the weight of the confession, knowing that this was a battle he could never win.

The cold air bit at Nana's skin as she stepped out of Dr. Hector's sterile facility. The weight of his words still lingered, but she refused to carry them any longer. Without a backward glance, she slid into the driver's seat of the old car parked outside. The engine sputtered to life beneath her touch, a low growl breaking the silence. She gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary and drove away, leaving the cold walls of the lab behind.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, winding deeper into the thick, tangled jungle. Shadows from towering trees reached across the narrow path, swallowing the last hints of daylight. Nana's destination loomed in her mind—a forgotten castle hidden far from the world. Once, it had been her sanctuary. Now, it was the only place left.

The steady hum of the engine was interrupted by the screech of tires on gravel. A flash of movement on the road—a child, frozen in fear. Nana's instincts kicked in. She slammed the brakes, the car skidding to a halt just in time. Another vehicle, sleek and fast, tore down the road, missing the boy by inches.

Nana flung her door open, storming toward the other driver as he stumbled from his car. "Are you insane?" she snapped, voice cold and sharp.

The man scowled. "Watch your kid! He shouldn't be in the road!"

"He's not my child," Nana growled, stepping closer. "But you nearly killed him."

The driver muttered a curse and sped off, his taillights vanishing into the trees.

Nana turned to the boy, his small frame shaking. "You okay?" she asked.

He nodded slowly, eyes wide and glued to her. Or rather, to the faint metallic sheen beneath her torn sleeves.

Without another word, Nana motioned for him to follow. "Come on. It's not safe here."

The path ahead was overgrown, branches clawing at the car as Nana drove. Eventually, the trees thinned, revealing the looming silhouette of the castle. Its stone walls were cracked and choked with ivy, standing silent under the moonlight. Nana pushed open the heavy wooden doors, and the musty scent of dust and forgotten memories filled the air.

They wandered through dark, crumbling halls. The boy's footsteps echoed softly behind her, his eyes darting from broken portraits to shattered glass. In the great hall, Nana gathered what scraps of wood she could find, sparking a fire in the ancient hearth. The flames flickered to life, casting their shadows against the walls.

The boy sat close to the fire, sneaking glances at Nana's exposed metal joints. He hesitated, then asked quietly, "Why do you look… like that?"

Nana didn't answer right away. She stared into the flames, watching them twist and dance.

"I wasn't always like this," she said finally, her voice distant. "But that's a story from a long time ago."

The boy pulled his knees to his chest. "I want to hear it."

Nana closed her eyes briefly, letting the past stir.

"Then listen closely," she murmured. "It began with someone I lost… someone I couldn't save."

And so, in the dying light of the fire, Nana began to tell her story.

The wind began to howl, rattling the broken windowpanes as rain lashed against the castle walls. The once steady crackle of the fire was now drowned beneath the drum of the storm outside.

Nana's voice softened, her words barely audible over the rising wind. But when she turned to glance at the boy, she saw his small figure slumped against the stone wall, eyes closed, his steady breathing lost in sleep.

A faint, almost wistful smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She hadn't even noticed when he drifted off.

The storm groaned louder, and a sudden gust of wind forced one of the old windows open with a sharp creak. Cold air rushed in, making the flames flicker violently. Nana rose quietly, moving toward the window. She pushed it shut with a heavy thud and secured the rusted latch.

Another window rattled in the hallway. She moved through the dark, closing each one, the sound of rain hammering on the glass. The grand doors of the castle moaned against the wind, but Nana pressed them firmly shut, securing the iron bolt with a satisfying clang.

When the storm was finally sealed out, she returned to the boy. His small frame looked even smaller now, curled up near the dying fire. Without a word, Nana took off her coat and carefully draped it over him.

She knelt beside him for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Sleep well," she murmured, barely a whisper lost in the crackle of the embers.

Outside, the storm raged on, but inside, the castle was still.

And in the quiet, Nana allowed herself to sit back against the cold stone, the shadows of the fire dancing once more across the walls.

Nana had fallen into a restless sleep beside the boy, her mind still tangled in the fragments of her own past. The fire had long since burned out, leaving only embers in its wake. The storm outside had softened, but inside, the air felt thick with unspoken thoughts.

Suddenly, a creak echoed through the silent room. Nana's eyes snapped open, heart racing. She turned to the side—and froze.

Instead of the boy she had tucked into bed, a grown man was sleeping beside her. His features were unfamiliar, his messy hair falling over his forehead, and he looked entirely out of place in the dusty, abandoned castle.

What the hell?

Her hand shot to the small pistol she always kept at her side. Without a second thought, she aimed it directly at his face, the barrel gleaming in the dim light.

The man stirred, blinking rapidly as he woke up. He turned toward her, his eyes widening in panic as he saw the barrel of the gun pointed at him.

"Whoa, whoa! What the hell—?" he yelped, his voice hoarse with confusion.

BANG!

The shot rang out, but it didn't hit him. Instead, the bullet narrowly missed his head and ricocheted off something hard behind him—something metallic. There was a loud clink, followed by a thud. A button, gleaming and out of place, fell from the ceiling and landed on his head with a splat.

He blinked, rubbing his head. "What was that?"

Nana's jaw dropped as she saw the strange man's features begin to shift, like clay being molded by invisible hands. His face contorted, his hair color shifted, and his clothes seemed to change in front of her very eyes.

"What the—?" Nana gasped.

"I-I'm not sure!" The man stammered, his voice warping along with his features. His skin turned a shade of purple, then blue, then green. His eyes went from brown to bright red, and his clothes flickered from one outfit to another in a whirlwind of absurdity.

"Stop! What's happening to you?!" Nana demanded, her grip on the pistol wavering as she tried to make sense of the chaotic transformation before her.

He stumbled out of bed, tripping over the blanket, his legs flailing like a newborn calf. "I—I don't know! I was just… just asleep, and now—what is this?!"

"Are you some kind of freaky science experiment?!" Nana snapped, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Look, I don't even know!" he cried, suddenly wearing a bright yellow polka-dotted suit, and then just as quickly, his clothes morphed into a full-on medieval knight's armor, complete with a shiny sword. "This is… this is messed up!"

The entire scene was absurd. He threw his arms in the air, trying to shake off the transformation like it was some sort of malfunction. Each movement made something new happen to his body: his shoes turned into oversized clown feet, his hands became giant rubber gloves, and his head—his head was now gigantic.

"What is going on?!" Nana was half-laughing, half-freaking out. "You're like a walking glitch!"

"I swear I don't know! One minute, I'm just having a peaceful nap, and then—BAM! I turn into a circus act!" He flung his arms out, and suddenly, a random honking noise came from his chest, like a bicycle horn. "I don't even know how to stop it!"

"Okay, stop!" Nana shouted, feeling her panic give way to absurdity. "Who are you, really?!"

"I—I'm Dante!" he gasped, his voice finally going back to normal as his features stabilized, though his clothes were now a mishmash of a tuxedo and a pirate's hat.

Nana stared at him, dumbfounded, as he awkwardly attempted to straighten the pirate's hat on his head. She had no idea what was happening, but one thing was certain: this man was not what he seemed.

The two stood there, frozen for a moment, surrounded by the bizarre, flashing colors and bizarre sounds of the transformation system still running wild within him.

"Okay, okay," Dante panted, still looking like a poorly constructed version of a gentleman-pirate. "I think it's safe to say, I've definitely got some explaining to do…"

Nana blinked slowly, her head still spinning. "You think?"

She lowered the pistol. Only slightly.

Dante, now resembling a mismatched ensemble of a superhero and an ancient Egyptian pharaoh, took a deep breath and held his hands up, like he was surrendering to the madness he was causing.

"Okay, so, here's the deal—"

Before he could finish, the floor beneath them creaked loudly, and the walls seemed to groan in response. The wind outside began to howl like a wounded animal, rattling the ancient windows once more. Suddenly, the entire castle shook, sending dust and debris tumbling from the rafters.

Nana grabbed the nearest chair, her eyes wide with alarm. "What the hell is happening now?!"

And that's when it all went completely sideways.

With a sickening crack, the ceiling above them burst open, revealing—of all things—a giant inflatable dinosaur that fell into the room with a deafening THUD, bouncing off the stone floor like a demented beach ball.

Nana and Dante stared at the absurd sight. The dinosaur flailed its tiny arms, its giant, toothy mouth opening and closing in a silent roar.

"What in the world…?" Nana breathed, blinking in disbelief.

Dante, now inexplicably wearing a Viking helmet, jumped back. "I swear, I didn't order this!"

The inflatable dinosaur let out a squeak and began to inflate further, blocking the door as it inflated to nearly double its size. The air inside it hissed, making it wobble as it tried to settle into the tiny space.

Nana scrambled backward, her mind reeling. "You've got to be kidding me!"

But before she could react, the floorboards splintered, and another strange contraption—a robotic vacuum cleaner—zoomed across the room, propelled by what seemed to be an unholy amount of speed. It whizzed past them, bumping into walls, then making a beeline for the dinosaur, which now blocked the exit.

"No! No, no!" Nana shouted, her mind racing to process the chaotic circus unfolding before her. She reached for the pistol again, but in the process, her foot got tangled in a stray blanket, sending her tumbling into Dante—who was still dressed as half-Viking, half-pirate.

Dante collided with her, the force sending both of them crashing into the wall—straight into a candelabra, which, by some cruel twist of fate, caused one of the candles to light the end of Dante's hat on fire.

"Ah! My hat!" Dante screamed, flinging himself away and knocking over a stack of books, which spilled out like confetti, raining down on them both. His attempts to smother the flame by flapping his arms only made the fire spread across his absurdly oversized tunic.

Nana, desperate to put out the flames, grabbed the nearest thing she could find—a rubber chicken that had somehow fallen from the ceiling.

"Take that!" she yelled, swatting at his chest with the chicken. It squeaked with every hit, adding to the chaos.

The vacuum cleaner, not to be outdone, zipped past them and collided with the dinosaur. The dinosaur let out a strangled squeal and—thanks to the vacuum's suction—was now halfway stuck in the machine, its tiny plastic legs kicking helplessly. The whole mess of a dinosaur, vacuum, and rubber chicken was now a tangled heap of nonsense in the middle of the room.

Meanwhile, Dante—finally free of the rubber chicken's assault—stood up, his hair now singed, his clothes torn, and his face covered in confetti. He took a step forward and tripped over the inflatable dinosaur, crashing into a suit of armor that somehow had been leaning against the wall. The armor clanged to the floor with a deafening CRASH, knocking over more furniture in the process.

"Okay, okay!" Dante gasped, now covered in feathers, smoke, and plastic shards. "I'm… I'm done! No more random objects, no more transformations, no more—"

Suddenly, the vacuum cleaner shot forward like a rocket, ricocheting off the wall and hitting the giant inflatable dinosaur one last time. The sheer force caused the dinosaur to explode in a burst of confetti and plastic parts.

And then, the room was silent. For one fleeting moment, everything stopped—until the sound of something heavy hitting the floor broke the quiet.

A random piano had somehow plummeted from the ceiling, landing on top of the vacuum cleaner with a perfectly timed clang.

Nana and Dante just stood there, completely still, staring at the wreckage of books, confetti, a now-deflated dinosaur, a scorched Viking-pirate hybrid, and a rogue piano.

Dante blinked twice. "Well… that escalated quickly."

Nana rubbed her temples, her head spinning. "I need a drink. Or a nap. Or both."

And in that moment, in the middle of the chaos, they both burst out laughing.

Because what else could they do?

Nana and Dante stumbled out of the castle, both looking like they'd just survived the apocalypse. The snow had turned the ground into a slippery mess, and the cold air cut through them like a knife. Dante, still in his bizarre, constantly shifting form, kept staggering ahead, his body twisting and turning like a malfunctioning action figure.

"What the hell is happening to you?" Nana muttered, rubbing her face. She'd had enough of this chaotic, impossible day. First the dinosaur, then the inflatable duck army, and now this… guy.

He swerved left, then right, as though fighting against his own body, a surreal dance of disjointed limbs and features. It was like he was trying to be someone—something—and failing miserably at it.

Nana narrowed her eyes, and, in one swift motion, stepped behind him. She'd had enough.

She reached for his back and, with surprising stealth, found the small button tucked behind him—almost like it was hidden just for this moment.

"Gotcha," Nana muttered, pressing it hard, her finger feeling the cold of the metal beneath his jacket.

There was a strange whirring sound, like gears shifting inside of him, and his entire body spasmed for a moment. His face flickered between different versions of himself, each one morphing into something unrecognizable. For a split second, he even looked like a sheepdog.

Nana blinked rapidly.

Then—poof—he suddenly froze. His entire form solidified into the one that had greeted her earlier that day.

Nana stumbled back, her jaw dropping in shock. "Wait… what? That's you? You're—"

"Yeah, that's my actual form," Dante said, straightening up and looking at her with a smirk. "I told you, I'm not some kid. It's complicated."

Nana's face twisted in confusion. "No! That's impossible. You—"

She took a step forward, her anger boiling over. "You've been lying to me this whole time, and I—"

Before he could finish, Nana swung at him. She grabbed his face with both hands, her fingers digging into his skin as she stretched and pulled his face, trying to force the transformation back to that kid version. His features rippled, warping with every tug she made, but he didn't change.

"What's wrong with you?!" she growled, shaking him. "What are you hiding?!"

"I'm not—stop!" Dante shouted, trying to break free from her grasp. But it was too late. In their frantic scuffle, they both tripped over a rock. Dante tried to regain his balance but slipped in the snow, and they were both sent tumbling down a snowy cliffside.

Nana screamed as she flailed her arms, trying to grab onto anything. But the snow was too slick, and the cold wind yanked her down further. She landed with a heavy thud against a snowbank, her world spinning and her head swirling.

Then everything went black.

But Dante… Dante wasn't so lucky.

As Nana's vision blurred, she saw him crash against a jagged rock before his body swung violently in the air, slamming into a tree trunk. He was dangling there, arms flailing like some bizarre wind-up toy, his legs twisting in unnatural directions.

"HELP!" he shouted, barely managing to keep a grip on the branch. "I can't—WHAT IS HAPPENING?!"

The branch creaked ominously beneath his weight, and he swung back and forth like a ragdoll caught in a hurricane.

The cold air bit at Nana's skin, pulling her consciousness back piece by piece like a jagged puzzle. Her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was a swirling mess of snowflakes and a dark, ominous sky. She blinked, the freezing wind stinging her face, and tried to sit up, only to realize her entire body felt like it had been run over by a stampede of rubber ducks.

The snow around her was thick, and her breath came out in visible clouds as she groggily tried to piece together what had happened.

She remembered Dante. The button. The fall. And… oh yeah, the guy was dangling from a tree like some kind of malfunctioning puppet.

A loud crack interrupted her thoughts. She turned toward the sound and saw Dante—still stuck—his arms flailing like a windmill in a tornado.

"What the hell?" Nana muttered under her breath, struggling to stand. Her legs shook with the effort, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to her feet.

She shuffled toward the tree where Dante was hanging, his legs kicking wildly, nearly knocking the tree's branches loose with every uncoordinated movement.

"Hey, genius," Nana shouted, "You planning to do anything other than flail around like a fish out of water?"

Dante's head snapped up. "I'm TRYING, okay?! You can't just leave me up here!" He swung again, and this time his hand barely grazed the branch, causing him to spin like a malfunctioning carousel.

Nana, feeling both irritated and slightly amused at the chaos, threw her hands up in exasperation. "I literally just fell down a cliff, and this is what I get to deal with?"

"Can we talk about this later?!" Dante yelled back, his voice tinged with desperation. "I'm stuck, Nana!"

"Yeah, I can see that!" Nana snapped, now at the base of the tree. She kneeled down in the snow and dug her fingers into the snow, trying to find something to help him. She noticed a few rocks nearby, and an idea sparked in her mind.

"Alright," she muttered to herself, "Time for a little problem-solving." She grabbed a handful of snow and formed it into a makeshift pile of compact snowballs.

Dante continued flailing, each movement more chaotic than the last. "What the—hey! What are you doing?"

Nana stood up, holding one of the snowballs. "I'm going to help you, alright? You're lucky I'm even doing this."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Without waiting for a response, Nana wound up and threw the snowball straight at Dante's face. It hit him with a soft thwack.

"HEY!" Dante shouted, blinking snow out of his eyes. But before he could process, Nana threw another snowball, this time landing directly in his mouth.

"Nice one, huh?" Nana quipped, grinning as Dante spluttered.

"I can't believe you—" Dante began, but he was cut off by a loud crack from the tree branch.

Before either of them could react, the branch buckled under Dante's weight, and he fell—straight down. There was a sickening thud as he hit the snow, the wind knocked out of him.

Nana stared, wide-eyed, her hand over her mouth in surprise. Then, without thinking, she burst out laughing.

Dante sat up, looking dazed and confused. "I'm going to kill you," he muttered, but there was no real venom in his voice. It was just the tiredness from everything that had happened.

Nana wiped her eyes, still laughing. "Seriously, I can't—this is too much."

Dante, now lying in the snow, groaned. "Couldn't have just caught me, could you?"

Nana offered him a hand to help him up, still snickering. "I tried. You're the one who wanted to be a human slingshot."

Dante grumbled but accepted her help, pulling himself to his feet. "Next time, maybe we can avoid the cliffs and the snow and the—"

"Yeah, yeah," Nana interrupted, brushing snow off her coat. "I get it. You're having a rough day. Join the club."

"Don't remind me," Dante sighed dramatically, shaking off the last bits of snow from his jacket.

"Alright," Nana said, squinting at the path ahead of them, the castle now a distant, crumbling silhouette in the snow. "We need to figure out how to get out of here before we end up as snow sculptures."

"Agreed," Dante grumbled, brushing more snow off his clothes. "But next time, maybe we avoid the giant rubber duck and the malfunctioning vacuum cleaner. Deal?"

Nana smirked. "I don't know. Those were the best parts of the day so far."

Dante shot her a look. "You have weird standards."

"Yeah, I know," she said with a wink, "But you're stuck with me, so get used to it."

As they trudged through the snow, the air thick with flakes and the wind howling like a distant wolf, Nana kept her eyes on the ground ahead, the weight of the moment pressing down on her shoulders. But then something caught her attention—Dante's movements were stiff, more deliberate than usual, and his pace had slowed.

She glanced over at him, noticing how he winced, clutching his side with one hand. "You okay?" Nana asked, her voice cutting through the howling wind.

Dante shook his head, a pained expression crossing his face. "Yeah, just… bruised, I guess."

But Nana wasn't convinced. As they continued walking, she spotted something else—his movements seemed more labored, and there was a hint of bloodstaining the edge of his jacket.

"Dante!" Nana called, her tone sharp. "What's that on your back?"

Dante seemed to freeze for a moment, as if the question had caught him off guard. "It's nothing, really. Just a scratch. Don't worry about it."

But Nana wasn't buying it. She grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. "Let me see," she demanded, her voice firm.

With a reluctant sigh, Dante slowly peeled back the edge of his jacket. There, beneath his shirt, was a deep gash—raw, red, and still oozing blood. The wound was far worse than he'd let on, and the blood was beginning to soak into the fabric of his clothes.

Nana's brow furrowed in concern, and without thinking, she quickly shrugged out of her coat, shivering as the cold air bit at her exposed skin. She didn't hesitate, ripping the coat into strips with practiced precision. The cold was unbearable against her bare arms, but she didn't care.

With a swift motion, she wrapped the fabric tightly around the wound, pressing it against his skin. "You're not going anywhere until this is taken care of," she muttered.

Dante winced as the cloth tightened against his wound, but he didn't protest. He was too exhausted, too worn out from the events of the day.

But as Nana turned to adjust the makeshift bandage, her blouse shifted slightly, revealing something beneath it—metallic limbs, the sleek, intricate design of her mechanical arms gleaming in the harsh, flickering light of the storm.

Dante froze, his breath catching in his throat. His gaze flickered to the metal, then back to her face. For a moment, there was complete silence between them.

Nana felt his eyes on her and instinctively tried to pull her sleeves down to cover the mechanical appendages. But she caught herself. She wasn't about to hide who she was, not now. Not from him.

"Don't worry about it," Nana said, her voice cutting through the tension like a sharp blade. She turned back toward the path ahead, her steps steady despite the storm. "Just keep moving. We have no time for this."

Dante blinked, his shock slowly fading into a quiet, resigned nod. The storm raged around them, snowflakes swirling through the air like a million tiny daggers. But Nana didn't slow down. She was used to the cold, used to the isolation. Her mechanical arms were no different than her breath in the air—just another part of her that couldn't be denied.

They continued walking, the weight of the storm and their shared silence heavy between them. The snow crunched underfoot, and the world felt like it had narrowed down to just the two of them.

The wind howled louder, its icy fingers cutting through the layers of clothing Nana had thrown on. Snow whipped across their faces, the storm suddenly intensifying in its fury. The air grew colder, sharper, until it felt like the snowflakes themselves were small needles piercing through every exposed bit of skin. Nana clenched her fists, trying to keep moving, but it was becoming harder by the minute.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, as if the mechanical limbs could somehow protect her from the chill gnawing at her bones. But it wasn't enough. The cold seeped through, freezing her to the core. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, and each step seemed to drain more and more energy from her. The weight of the snow, the relentless wind, and the exhaustion from everything that had already happened were starting to take their toll.

Dante, still walking beside her, was just as battered by the storm. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his movements were sluggish, as though the snow had settled into his bones as well. But he noticed her struggle, her growing difficulty to keep moving, and he glanced over, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Nana," he said, his voice barely audible above the howling wind. "We need to find shelter. Now."

But just as those words left his mouth, something caught their eyes in the distance—a small silhouette against the relentless white of the snow. A house. A small, humble structure, barely visible against the snowstorm but still standing firm.

Dante didn't hesitate. "Over there!" he shouted, pointing toward the house. "Come on!"

They stumbled forward, taking slow, cautious steps through the deepening snow. Every movement felt heavier, as if the storm itself was pushing them back. The wind bit into their faces, but the thought of warmth spurred them on. They finally reached the house, the door creaking slightly as if inviting them in from the cold.

Nana pushed the door open with a weak, gloved hand, stumbling inside, her legs buckling beneath her as the warmth of the small, dimly lit room washed over her. She collapsed to her knees, her breath coming in shaky gasps as she tried to steady herself. The storm outside howled in frustration, as though it had been denied its claim on them, but inside the house, there was silence—warm, enveloping silence.

Dante slammed the door behind them, the wind now howling against the walls in vain. He quickly moved to Nana's side, crouching beside her, his face a mixture of concern and determination. "Nana," he said softly, but with urgency in his voice, "You're freezing. We need to—"

As the storm raged outside, Dante could only watch her, helpless and worried, and wonder if they would survive this.

The night dragged on, and the storm outside seemed to grow even fiercer. Snow piled up against the windows, the howling wind relentless as if nature itself were trying to keep them trapped in this tiny house. Inside, the air was warm, but it did little to stave off the cold creeping into Nana's bones. Dante stayed beside her, his eyes never leaving her face, watching for any sign of movement, any sign that she was still holding on.

Minutes felt like hours as he rubbed her cold hands, trying to get the warmth flowing again. Her breathing was slow, shallow, but steady, and he prayed it would stay that way. He had no idea how long they'd been there—time had blurred into a haze. The fire he'd managed to start in the small stove had flickered out long ago, leaving only the faint glow of a few candles scattered around the room.

Nana's lips were pale, her body still trembling under the blanket. The wound on her arms and her exhaustion had drained her far too much, and she hadn't spoken in what felt like an eternity.