1045 Hours.
Overcast skies.
The remnants of the Jarilo Armed Forces continued their long, quiet flight northwest—toward the unforgiving cold of Everwinter Island.
They were just under two hours away.
The silence in the air was deafening, almost sacred. After the chaos, the losses, and the retreat from Belobog… words felt unnecessary.
Of the forty planes that scrambled to defend the capital, only ten now remained. They flew in loose formation beneath the gray clouds, scarred but alive.
Among them were the battered survivors of Silvermane Team—Bronya, Seele, Pela, and Luka.
Three F-15E Strike Eagles.
One F-16C Fighting Falcon.
Alongside them: two more F-16Cs, three F/A-18E Super Hornets, and a lone Eurofighter Typhoon, its sleek delta-wing profile cutting through the mist like a phantom.
Bronya sat quietly in the cockpit of her F-15E, the subtle hum of the engines filling the silence. She exhaled slowly through her nose, her breath fogging the inside of her mask slightly. After a pause, she reached up, unfastened the right-side strap of her oxygen mask, and let it hang loose against her chest. Her head leaned back into the seat as she slumped slightly.
She keyed into the comms channel, voice quiet.
"…We're in dire straits."
Seele glanced left, eyes catching the silhouette of Bronya's Strike Eagle just a few hundred feet away.
"Our air force took a massive hit… This is all that's left of us," she said, her voice heavy with grief.
Pela turned her head toward Bronya's jet on her right, her tone cautious.
"Did you hear anything from your mom, Bronya?"
Bronya shook her head.
"Not yet. I haven't checked my phone—it's off for now…" She paused. "I'll look once we land at Everwinter Air Force Base."
AWACS Talisman broke in through the comms.
"No need to wait, Bronya. I've got something for all of us."
Bronya straightened slightly in her seat, adjusting her posture.
"Go ahead, Talisman."
Talisman relayed the message with his usual calm professionalism, though fatigue weighed on every word.
"Supreme Leader Cocolia Rand is confirmed safe—she's currently secured in the catacombs beneath the Architect Palace."
He continued:
"In direct response to the surprise attack on Belobog, the nation of Jarilo has officially declared war on the Free Jarilo Armed Rebellion Group.
'This beautiful country belongs to its people—and to those who believe in the will of the Architects. Stand strong, citizens. Our forces will bring you salvation soon.'"
There was a pause as Talisman scanned the next message.
"And here's the latest from Command: Silvermane Gardes ground forces are still fighting on the mainland, attempting to regroup and prepare for a counter-offensive to retake Belobog.
Air force units still operational across mainland Jarilo are launching fresh sorties. Most auxiliary squadrons are rerouting to Everwinter Air Force Base to reinforce our numbers.
We've also received confirmation from the Teyvat government. In accordance with the activation of Section Six of the Teyvat–Jarilo Nation-in-Arms Act, the Teyvat Strategic Strike Group is being deployed—along with their Special Operations unit under the United Peacekeeping Force."
Pela keyed in, voice steady but curious.
"Who exactly are they sending from the TSSG?"
Talisman chuckled lightly.
"Pretty sure you've already heard of the two most prominent squadrons. Primordial Squadron… and Waltz Squadron."
Pela nodded slowly.
"Yeah… I've heard of them."
Seele chuckled over the radio.
"Sounds like you don't know a damn thing, Pela."
"I do!" Pela snapped back, flustered. "Of course I do!"
Bronya grinned faintly.
"Alright then, answer this: who flew the Dassault Rafale 1013-FF during the Teyvat–Snezhnaya War, sixteen years ago?"
Pela went quiet for a few seconds.
"Umm… uhhhh…"
She sighed.
"Nope. No idea."
Bronya laughed lightly. "You should know that! She's the deadliest ace in Teyvat's history."
Seele's voice came sharp and proud.
"That would be the Regina of the Skies herself—Furina de Fontaine. Ranked number one on the Teyvat Ace List."
Bronya nodded.
"Number two is Arlecchino. The Knave. Also known as the Demon Lord of Nod Krai."
Pela groaned. "Too many damn nicknames for Arlecchino…"
"And number three?" Bronya added. "That's Emilie. Also called Raven. The Ace of Emberhowl."
Pela raised an eyebrow.
"Emberhowl?"
Bronya's tone shifted slightly—lower, more reverent.
"You know the Demon of Emberhowl story, right?"
Pela nodded.
"Yeah, I've heard of it."
Bronya smiled faintly.
"There's an old saying: When history witnesses a great change… Emberhowl reveals itself. First, as a dark demon—raining death upon the land. Then it dies.
Seele picked it up from there, her voice even and precise.
"But after a period of slumber… Emberhowl returns. Not as a demon—but as a great hero."
"The Aces of Emberhowl—Emilie, Mona, and Ayaka—earned those names during an operation at the Emberhowl Straits, just north of Snezhnaya," Bronya added. "They took down the Nuckelavee Carrier Submarine during a night raid. That's where they became known as the Demons of Emberhowl."
"And it's all true," she continued. "They were exiled from Petrichor Air Force Base, shot down and presumed KIA the very next day. Until the Emberhowl Air Command Squadron was re-formed by then–President Imena aboard the Fontanian carrier Arkhe."
Pela groaned, rubbing her visor with a gloved hand.
"Gods, Bronya—did you just drop the entire Khaenri'ahn Conflict story on me? I was joking, you know!"
Seele laughed. "Then why didn't you say so earlier?"
The other pilots chimed in over the squadron channel:
"Bronya's always been the serious one!"
"Never lets anyone else explain. Ease up, huh Bronya?"
Bronya shook her head with a chuckle.
"C'mon guys… You know how it is when you're raised by the Supreme Leader. We take things seriously."
She sighed.
"But… I'll try to lighten up."
Pela shifted in her seat, buzzing with anticipation.
"I can't wait to meet Furina… this is going to be so exciting."
Then Luka's voice came through—tentative.
"Uhh… is it bad I kinda don't know any of them?"
Bronya waved a hand dismissively.
"Relax, Luka. Most of us were still kids during the Teyvat–Snezhnaya War…"
Luka raised an eyebrow, grinning.
"Then how the hell do you know so much about the Khaenri'ah Conflict? That was like… twenty-five years ago."
Bronya raised a single gloved finger.
"Ever heard of… documentaries?"
Luka laughed over the radio.
"Okay, okay! I'll do my homework—after we survive all this."
Talisman let out a low chuckle.
"Well… it'll be a while before we sortie for the counteroffensive. We're still regrouping. And waiting for reinforcements from outside Jarilo."
A moment of heavy silence settled over the comms.
Then—
Talisman's voice came back, quieter.
"...We just got word from Command. And it's not good."
Bronya instinctively held her breath, gripping her flight stick tighter.
"W-What is it, Talisman? Tell us!"
A long sigh escaped Talisman before she answered.
"Operation Winter Morning… the push to retake San-Goethe… has failed. The rebel forces are advancing inward—fast. They're storming the mainland."
A pause. Then her voice cracked, ever so slightly.
"And... I can't believe this...!"
Bronya practically screamed over the channel.
"TELL US!"
Talisman responded, her words slow and deliberate.
"...Our Silvermane Guards are retreating. They're falling back to Everwinter Island. What's left of the ground forces are making a stand. And a handful of our air wings are still in the sky, trying to hold the line."
Seele's voice cut in, breath short.
"Wh-What?!"
Bronya's voice was sharper now, focused.
"Can we estimate how long until they reach Everwinter?"
Pela's voice was thoughtful but tense, the gears in her mind turning rapidly.
"If they maintain their current advance rate..."
A pause.
"...Oh no."
Her tone dropped as reality hit.
"By November… they'll reach Everwinter Island."
Bronya's eyes widened behind her HUD.
"NOVEMBER!?"
Voices crackled in from other squadrons.
"November?!"
"No way, that's impossible!"
"Those numbers can't be real!"
Pela shook her head, firm.
"No… they're real. If they keep up this pace, they'll make landfall by November. As for when they'll hit our base? That's anyone's guess."
Bronya exhaled sharply, rubbing her temple beneath the helmet.
"...Then all we can do now is wait. And plan our counterstrike. We will take our nation back from these goddamn rebels."
Seele's voice came through again, quieter this time, scanning her instruments.
"But why? What's the point of the rebellion? They're attacking their own people. Their own soil. What are they even trying to achieve?"
Bronya turned her head slightly, eyes on Seele's F-15E flying in tight formation beside hers.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. What would this so-called 'new government' even accomplish? I haven't heard a single fucking complaint from any citizen about the Supreme Leader's administration. The people want stability."
Pela keyed in with a thoughtful tone.
"Exactly. And it's not like Cocolia did anything provocative, right?"
Bronya shook her head, jaw clenched.
"Not that I know of."
She paused, looking into the snowy distance ahead.
"...We just have to trust Command. And be ready when the time comes."
"Right," Pela and Seele said together, their voices firm.
Luka, flying at the rear, punched his chest with a gloved fist.
"We'll fight until they're gone. We'll take our city back—no matter the cost!"
Bronya nodded.
"We will, Luka... Let's trust Command. For now."
Hours Later
The ten aircraft banked gently northwest, flying low under heavy cloud cover. Everwinter Island's infamous blizzards had already begun to show their teeth.
The skies were gray and the snow relentless—visibility near zero. The squadron was on visual search. No ground-based instrument approach systems. No radar beacons. This was as old-school as it got.
Bronya leaned forward in her cockpit, peering through the frost-kissed canopy.
"Any visual on the airbase?"
Seele checked her systems, frustration in her voice.
"Negative. Radar's a whiteout. Snow's jamming everything."
Pela sighed.
"Expected. This region's a nightmare for avionics. We'll have to rely on eyeballs."
Then the radio crackled. A welcome voice cut through the static.
"Silvermane One, you're closest to Everwinter Air Force Base. Turn right heading zero-five-zero. You'll have the best approach vector."
Bronya blinked, instantly responding.
"Roger that, Tower. Turning right, heading zero-five-zero."
She gently banked her F-15E Strike Eagle to the right, rolling out onto the new heading. Below her canopy, nothing but endless white—patches of wind-scattered snow and frostbitten grass.
Then—
A black strip.
A centerline.
A runway.
Bronya keyed in.
"All planes, form up on my position. I'll circle and guide you in."
She broke left into a holding pattern over the airfield. One by one, the escort F-16Cs, F/A-18Fs, and the lone Eurofighter Typhoon touched down with surgical precision.
Only Silvermane Team remained in the air.
Bronya's eyes flicked to Luka's F-16C, lagging slightly behind Seele and Pela.
"Luka, you should've landed already. This weather is deteriorating fast."
Luka's voice came back, firm.
"But Captain—I'm one of the team now, right?"
Bronya sighed.
"You are. But you're still new. Land now. That's an order."
"Roger." Luka peeled away and banked toward final. A minute later, his Falcon's wheels kissed the runway through the curtain of snow.
The tower crackled again.
"Silvermane Team, you are cleared for a simultaneous approach. Weather window is closing."
Bronya acknowledged.
"Roger. Commencing final approach."
She lined up with the dim runway lights. To her flanks, Seele and Pela's Strike Eagles moved into perfect position.
Bronya lowered flaps to full, landing gear down. The thump of deployment echoed in the cockpit—three green lights confirmed gear lock.
She toggled spoilers, deploying the airbrakes—twin panels erupting from the fuselage.
The descent steepened. She pulled gently on the stick, nose up, controlling vertical speed.
And then—
Touchdown.
Main wheels hit the icy tarmac with a soft jolt. Bronya applied aerodynamic braking, keeping the nose high before gently easing it down, toe brakes assisting the deceleration.
Behind her, Seele and Pela landed flawlessly in echelon, their wingtip spacing razor-tight.
Bronya guided her aircraft off the active and toward the taxiway.
"Silvermane Team, welcome to Everwinter. Park at the hangars. Ground crew will shelter your birds from the storm."
Bronya nodded.
"Understood."
She brought her Strike Eagle to a halt outside the main hangar. As the massive doors creaked open, the three jets shut down in sequence. Bronya pulled the throttle levers to cutoff—her twin Pratt & Whitney F100-PW-220 engines spooled down with a mechanical whine.
The canopy hissed open. The cold slapped her instantly. She pulled off her helmet, her long silver hair whipping in the frozen air.
"Shit... it's cold."
Seele, Pela, and Luka joined her on the tarmac, hugging themselves.
Luka looked around.
"So... this is it? We're staying here?"
Bronya nodded grimly.
"For now? Yeah."
"How long?"
Seele shook her head.
"No clue…"
A shout through the wind.
"Miss Bronya!"
They turned to see a figure approaching through the snow—tall, uniformed, shouting over the howling wind.
"I'm Commander Barrie! Welcome to Everwinter! You're safe here."
He shook Bronya's hand firmly, then motioned toward the base.
"Come inside. The others have already taken quarters. Get warm."
They stepped into the main building, boots crunching snow, and made their way to a wide lounge—its centerpiece a roaring fireplace.
All four extended their hands toward the flames, letting warmth creep back into frozen fingers.
Bronya broke the silence.
"What about Section 6 of the Teyvat-Jarilo Nation in Arms Act?"
Barrie shrugged, pulling off his gloves.
"It's in effect. We're officially at war. But when reinforcements will actually arrive? That's anyone's guess."
Seele's brow twitched in frustration.
"Well, they better move fast—before there's no Jarilo left to save."
Barrie raised his hands, calm.
"They'll come. If they don't, it's a treaty violation. Teyvat will act."
Seele leaned forward.
"Is it true? The rebels want a democracy? Replace the Supreme Leader? Overthrow everything?"
Bronya answered flatly.
"That's the goal, yes. But for what? A different flag? None of the civilians are complaining. Not the mining guilds. Not even the Underworld. This entire rebellion is a fucking joke."
Pela raised a gloved finger.
"More importantly—who's supplying their weapons?"
Seele added, her voice dark.
"And what the fuck is that flying aircraft carrier they've got?"
Bronya shook her head.
"No one knows. Until the Teyvat Armed Forces arrive... we're in limbo."
And outside, snow continued to fall—burying the tarmac, and the future, in silence.