The snow whirls in a chilling breeze, transforming even running water into instant ice. The moonlight above sheds a shimmering glow on the darkening blue sky, blending with the snowflakes descending from the heavens. Despite the encroaching darkness, the landscape becomes as white as porcelain, defying the land's attempts to succumb to the night. The snowfall continues, extending its reach over a hundred miles, unforgiving to any corner of the north. The cold breeze carries the wind, piercing the skin like icy swords.

     In Hannsbarrne, the sun begins its descent, casting golden rays that reflect upon the snowy white clouds. The atmosphere transforms into an abstract painting, with shades of a pure white daisy blending with the wisteria's soft lavender and the cherry blossoms' pale pink. The snowflakes gently descend, resembling delicate powder.

     The wind hums like sirens, heralding the approaching snowfall that looms on the horizon, thick as a solid block. Yet, on the ground of Hannsbarrne, the snow barely covers the streets. The grey concrete roads and pine-colored wooden roofs remain visible. As the harsh weather has yet to arrive, people seize the opportunity to gather in the vast outdoors.

     Atop the plateau, nestled near the mountainside, a quadrangle square stands, capable of accommodating a small neighbourhood. Surrounded by a forest of houses and establishments, the outdoor space becomes a hub of activity. Crowds converge, nearly blanketing the cobbled floor. A wooden stage-like platform with a stand stands tall, capturing attention in the square. Guards in mist-green uniforms encircle the area, clutching muskets tightly in their right hands.

     Amidst the soft murmurs that create a symphony in the air, a man ascends the wooden steps of the stage; it is none other than the chief, Christopher. Christopher approaches the central stand on the platform, placing a scroll on top and unfurling it. He presses a fist against his mouth, clearing his throat before speaking, and his voice resonates through the square, reaching even the furthest corners.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I thank you all for joining us here in this gathering," Christopher stated. He then took a moment to compose himself, inhaling deeply before continuing. "Just a few days prior, Hannsbarnne was struck by a devastating landslide, resulting in the collapse of our plateau's mountainside. But, with faith that can move the mountains, a man sent by grace came to save our homeland, our place, Hannsbarnne," Christopher's voice swelled and rose higher. "I, Christopher Jefferson, the Chief of Hannsbarnne, wholeheartedly bestow my credit upon Oliver Podeshire. He is the man who has agreed to set on a quest to rebuild our land, selflessly undertaking the arduous task without seeking personal gain. Through his dedication as the Remaining Podeshire, Oliver has etched his name not only in his own realm... but within the very fabric of Hannsbarnne... forever to be remembered for his benevolence and gentle spirit."

     A poised attendant stood behind Christopher, holding a tray with a wine glass. As Christopher concluded his speech, he turned around and reached for the glass on the tray. Facing his people, he raised the glass in a gesture of honour and celebration, ready to offer a toast to the gathered crowd.

"To the Remaining Podeshire!" Christopher's voice rang out. "May God bless his soul!"

The atmosphere shifted, engulfed by a wave of collective emotion. The residents, caught up in the moment, leapt to their feet. "To the Remaining Podeshire!" they chanted, their voices merging into a mighty chorus.

     In a sudden and wondrous display, five majestic dragons emerged from the low grounds, their scales shimmering with magical hues of ruby, gold, silver, emerald, and aquamarine. They flew towards the heavens, their wings beating against the air as they ascended to the very threshold of the heavy clouds. As if possessed by an otherworldly force, the dragons exhaled streams of flaming orange fire, encircling the atmosphere in a hypnotic dance.

     The crowd stood frozen, their gazes fixed on the show above them. The dragons spun and twirled like planets, their movements captivating the hearts and minds of all who beheld them. The glory of the display left the onlookers breathless, their hands clapping together in a thunderous ovation that echoed through the air. Even as their applause grew louder and louder, they could not tear their eyes away from the dragons, their irises reflecting the vibrant hues of the setting sun as it cast a heavenly glow upon them.

     Among the enraptured crowd are Amelia and Evan, their smiles radiant as they join in the applause. Side by side, their eyes lock in a shared moment of joy and wonder. As the dragons continue their performance, their bodies draw closer to one another.

"Oh, boy! I can't believe it's Oliver who ultimately overcame the entire globe! First, he serves in Asbranne. Then, he saves the Earth from the Pyro Void Monsters. After that, he helps Hannsbarnne, and I've heard he assists more countries afterwards! I'm extremely proud of him!" Amelia squeezed her hands, and her palms trembled with excitement.

"Mhm, I know," Evan nodded.

"Wow. I remember agreeing with Layla, my former friend, to arrange a marriage between Oliver and our daughter, Sophia, when they were young. I regret that decision. Evan, I regret it! I can't forgive myself for putting him through unnecessary struggles instead of supporting him," Amelia's eyes welled up with tears as her voice quivered with guilt. "Why did I even do that? Oliver is like a son to me. And Sophia? Our own beloved daughter? Why did I subject her to such torment instead of allowing her to pursue what she truly loves??"

"Hey, that's all in the past now," Evan gently placed his hands on Amelia's shoulders. "We can't change the past. But we can shape the future in the present," he said calmly.

"...How are we for Oliver in the present?" Amelia asked.

"The parents of his friend, our beautiful daughter. We no longer pressure him to marry Sophia, right? Instead, we let them be close friends," Evan replied. "Rather than being husband and wife, Oliver and Sophia have an incredible friendship. Aren't you happy they're living with the ones they love?"

"I'm happy with how things are now," Amelia's smile returned. She then added playfully. "Besides, Oliver loves a man. And we must respect that!"

"...And I love you," Evan continued.

     Amelia let out a surprised huff as her eyes widened. Leaning closer, her face gently met her husband's, and their lips tenderly touched. The couple kissed, their lips melding together with warmth and affection. Ignoring the world around them, they immersed themselves in the exchange of love, embracing each other and closing their eyes.

     Snowflakes began to fall, creating a gentle shower that blanketed the people below. The wind picked up, causing everyone's hair to sway with the breeze, mixing with the swirling snowflakes. The air grew colder, and with each gust, the snow mingled with the fresh air.