The snow fell quietly outside the café window, soft flakes brushing the glass like fingertips,
painting Moscow in powdered silver. Arelia Sokolov stood by the frosted pane, her gloved hands wrapped loosely around nothing just waiting.
Inside, the coffee shop was warm but hushed. The low hum of the espresso machine.The rhythmic tapping of someone typing on a laptop.A barista's voice drifting from behind the counter-
"Mikhail... Order for Mikhail!"
The muted jingle of a bell as the door opened.A couple stepped in,cheeks red from the cold, hands laced together. Laughter trailed behind them, folding into the faded jazz playing from overhead speakers.
Arelia didn't turn her head, but her eyes flicked toward them. Just for a moment.
"Arelia!"
She blinked. The barista held up a paper cup with her name scribbled on it.
She walked over, murmured a thank you, and stepped out into the snow.
---
The wind met her gently as she exited, brushing loose strands of hair across her cheek. The city was wrapped in lights and music twinkling trees, gold streamers, red ribbons around lamp posts.She stood still for a moment. Coffee in hand. Breath fogging the air.
December.
Her favorite month. Once.
She started walking, boots crunching softly beneath her. The bus stop wasn't far, and neither was the memory.
It used to smell like cinnamon and oranges, she thought.
Home. Fireplace. Her mother's perfume clinging to old coats.
Christmas and New Year's used to mean something.
Until it didn't.
Until her mother slipped away two Decembers ago.
Until silence took her place.
---
She boarded the bus, slid into a window seat, and let her head rest against the cool glass. The city blurred beside her lights, snow, laughter outside, and stillness inside.
She took a sip of her coffee.
It was already getting cold.
She would've been twenty this year, Arelia thought. Maybe at university. Maybe playing cello again. Maybe smiling.
But instead, she took a gap year that became something else.
Instead, she moved to Moscow. Alone.Away from Saint Petersburg. Away from him.
Her father.
He had grieved the only way he knew how by disappearing into work. He never cried. Not once. Just shut every door and kept it closed.
She didn't know which was worse: his silence, or the echo of her own.
---
She reached her apartment clean and quiet. The keys jingled as she turned them in the lock. A soft click. Then warmth.
She dropped the keys and coffee on the kitchen counter and turned on the TV. Some background noise. Something to keep the loneliness from echoing too loud.
In the kitchen, she reheated leftover stew.
The microwave's soft hum filled the silence.
On the living room wall, the photos watched quietly.
Her mother's portrait-calm, elegant.
A family photo-her between her parents, her mother's arm around her shoulder.
A younger version of herself, eyes closed, playing cello on a stage. Arelia in a ballerina dress, barely five.
Arelia didn't look at them.
Not directly. Not tonight.
She sat down on the couch, plate in hand, and ate slowly. The TV flickered in front of her-images dancing, noise rising and falling.
Outside, the snow kept falling.
Inside, the quiet remained.
---
She washed the plate.
Wiped the counter.
Turned the TV off.
It was barely 10 p.m., but her body felt heavier than the hour. Sleep wouldn't come easy not tonight. Not most nights.
She curled up on the couch, tugged a blanket over her legs, and opened her laptop. The glow of the screen lit up her face in the darkened room.
At first, it was just the usual.
Old forums.Reddit threads on survival games.Obscure hacker sites she didn't quite understand, but liked to browse anyway.Anything to keep her mind busy. Numb. Something new caught her eye.
A post she didn't remember seeing before.
No votes. No comments.
Title in glitchy, almost broken font:
> WINTER'S WAKE: Survive. Or wake no more.
She clicked.
Just a wall of cryptic text and a single link pulsing faintly at the center of the screen.
She stared at it.
Brows down slightly, curiosity flickering beneath the fog in her head. This wasn't a forum she usually checked. In fact, she wasn't even sure how she'd ended up here.
Her finger hovered over the trackpad.
Just a game, she told herself.
Just something weird and immersive and stupid. What's the worst that could happen?
She clicked.
The screen blinked once.
Then black.
Arelia gasped but the air never came. Her limbs wouldn't move.
Her eyes fluttered.
The laptop slid from her lap.
The apartment stayed still.
Then everything was quiet.
_______________