At sunrise.

The vast northland is endless.

From the edge of the distant mountain tops, a crimson silhouette is cast, and the early morning snowfields are thick in a hazy mist, and the sun rises on the misty snow mist.

Under the fir tree, a separated man and woman looked at each other silently, silent.

After dozens of days together, the feelings between them continued to ferment, and this relationship, which had been interrupted for twelve years, miraculously rekindled after twelve years, but unfortunately it had just begun and was about to end.

They met as children, reunited ten years later, and fell in love with each other again, but had to be separated again, is such a very simple story.

After the night, everything that should be said has been said, the emotions that should be transmitted have also been transmitted in a deep kiss of the night, and the cruel reality is once again in front of them.

Whether it is Gayan, who does not yet know the identity of Constantine, or Constantine, who already knows everything, they all know that this emotion will not end after all, and they are all ready to accept it calmly.

The Tao is different, so naturally there is no need to say much.

Kayan looked at him, his lips lightly furrowed, "I want to go back to Winterfell, it's the place I miss the most in my life, what about you, Dean?"

Constantine shook his head, "Your Highness, I am going to the Asgard Mountains, which is my goal, so I will not go with you, I wish you a pleasant journey." ”

Constantine looked at Gayan and remembered how long ago he and she had first met in Winterfell.

"Why are your eyes golden, unlike ours?" asked the little boy, tilting his head, curiously, "and they look good." ”

Noticing his subtle eyes, Kayan was stunned for a moment, raised his hand, and pulled out the crystal lenses, and a pair of pupils made of gold with a vertical line in the middle appeared in front of Constantine, just as at the beginning.

Constantine stared earnestly into Kayan's eyes, as if to imprint them in his heart forever, "Your eyes are so beautiful. ”

"I remember the first time I met my fiancé, the guy said the same thing. ”

In the morning light, Kayan laughed again, the faint sadness between his brows faded without a trace, and returned to his usual calm and confidence, "So, Dean...... Bye. ”

"Goodbye. ”

Without a superfluous word, Kayan turned and leaped down the hill, stomping heavily on the snow, striding in the direction of Winterfell,

In the sunshine, her back looks extremely brilliant, but it reveals a faint loneliness and depression.

She didn't look back.

......

Watching Kayan's back disappear into the horizon, Constantine slowly closed his eyes, licking his somewhat dry lips while savoring the beauty and bitterness.

As a good bounty hunter, Constantine had always firmly believed that the so-called heartache was nothing more than the bard's hypocritical statement, and that the heart could not hurt unless it was pierced.

But at this moment, he finally understood that there was really such a thing as heartache in this world, and it was physiologically real.

......

Continue north along the flat road, passing large areas of ruined villages, estates, castles, parks and churches.

Inside was dead silent, uninhabited, and the prosperity of the past disappeared with the demise of the Duchy of Azerolia, leaving behind a cold and gorgeous exorcism for posterity.

Constantine looked around at the buildings and felt as if he were in a different world.

More than a decade ago, it was one of the most prosperous areas in the north, with a constant stream of cars and horses.

He vaguely remembered that when he was very young, his father carried himself on his shoulders and rode a war horse through the snow, splashing snowflakes.

Behind them was a whole group of winter knights in iron armor, led by Rhaegar with a solemn expression, looking at the boy on the shoulder of the lord who was excitedly waving to the north wind, and whistling softly, eliciting hearty laughter from the knights behind him.

He had learned to swim in a ravine not far from here, and had picked the sprouted cherries in a nearby forest, the bitter juice making the boy's tongue faintly sour.

After a hill in the snowfield, he saw the Icewolf for the first time in his life.

As a child, he crept into the watchtower on an abandoned castle on the top of the hill, and stood above it overlooking the peaceful north at dusk, watching the caravans laden with timber and fruits sail towards the winter gates.

Everything here has a familiar smell and traces of the past.

Constantine thought that he would never be emotional again in his life, but seeing all this, the torrent of emotions still rolled irrepressibly in his chest, rolling up a large foam of memory.

Before he knew it, he had come to a vast jungle of tombstones.

Hundreds of snow-white tombstones stand in the wind, like lonely guards of declining countries, guarding the last territories.

Constantine woke up suddenly.

Only then did he remember that this was the very famous Necropolis of Virgil in the old Duchy of Azerolia, named after the original Virgil, the lord of Winterfell.

Virgil's mausoleum is also located in the deepest part of the cemetery, next to the family graveyard of the House of Elliott, where the remains of the lords of Winterfall are placed.

The grass is barren and grassy, the marble tombstones are overgrown with moss, and countless ancient and elegant rectangular tombstones sit on the snow.

Many of the tombstones bear the names of the Grand Nobles and Famous Knights of the Duchy of Azeroria, and in the old days, the nobles of Winterfell were proud to be buried near the Virgil Necropolis after their deaths, a sign of the Duchy's recognition of their contributions.

Constantine stepped through the thick snow into the depths of the cemetery, pausing from time to time to sweep his gaze over the names and surnames etched on the tombstones, some of which he knew and some of which he never knew, and who had been quietly buried in the snow for hundreds of years.

Eventually, he came to the family cemetery.

To his surprise, here, he actually saw the mausoleum of his father and himself.

They were two adjacent granite stone tablets, very rudimentary, very different from the tombstones of the previous lords, apparently built by the descendants of Azero, who were nostalgic for the old principality, and presumably built about two years after the fall of Winterfell, which is also ten years ago.

On the two tombstones, the names of Constantine and Archduke Eliotgard are written respectively, and there is a text left by posterity

"Winter has arrived, and this tomb honors the memory of the former Twilight Swordmaster, the last Lord of Winter, and his son Constantine, and may the name of Elliott be immortalized. ”

Constantine walked to his father's grave, was silent for a while, and calmly knelt on his knees.

"Father, I'm back. ”

The boy looked at the snow-covered stone and whispered, "Kayan is back too, but she doesn't recognize me anymore, that's good, isn't it?"

Constantan stretched out his hand, and a pale blue ball of light appeared on his fingertips, and a huge magical aura instantly enveloped the entire cemetery, and the frost and snow were all dyed blue.

"Father, you see, I'm a crown mage now. ”

Constantine said in a low and slow voice, with a slight tone of joy and triumph, like a child who has just made progress and proudly flaunts in front of his elders, hoping for a reward, "I have also inherited Faust's Pale Blue Starfield, the greatest magician in history. ”

Dozens of stars appeared around him, shimmering with a beautiful azure glow.

"In the future, I will carry on your last wish and make Azeroa stand again. Constantine said, "I will also find Paladin, defeat him, and avenge the death of the Winterman that night." ”

"I won't keep you waiting. ”

He stood up, patted the snow off his knees, and looked calm, without crying, tears such a thing as a real winter man never needed, this is the creed that Constantine deeply believes.

He walked to his graveyard again, and looked at the small stone tablet blankly, and did not have any sense of absurdity in his heart.

In a sense, the good little boy named Constantine Elliottard is dead.

What came out of the abyss later was just an avenger with the same name and bloody hands.

Constantine took the fairy tale book out of his pocket, looked at it silently for a while, then bent down and buried the booklet, which he had cherished so much in his childhood, in the snow in front of the stele.