I Got Reincarnated as a Zombie Girl

They sat together in that room for a long time, letting time pass. Their breakfast had grown cold, the tea already half gone, yet their conversation kept flowing.

Velthya spoke at length about how the Lycanthrope nobility had begun to splinter between those who supported the Church and those who opposed it. She told of the royal council, now riddled with intrigue, where her father's voice had become nothing but that of a puppet. She spoke of the fear growing among the people, fear that one day their kingdom would lose its very identity.

Sylvia listened calmly, sometimes asking short questions, sometimes offering nothing more than a meaningful gaze. Her pale face betrayed no excessive expression, yet every word she gave made Velthya feel understood.

At last, when the sound of the storm outside began to ease a little, Velthya exhaled heavily.

"I don't know what will happen from here on. But I know one thing: so long as you're here, I don't feel alone anymore."

Sylvia looked at her friend and answered softly, "And I won't let you face this alone."

Silence filled the room again, but this time it was a warm silence. The two friends sat side by side, their hands still clasped, while the snowstorm continued to rage outside.

To Velthya, the storm now felt different. No longer merely a threat of winter, but a symbol of the turmoil surrounding her life. And for the first time, that storm did not frighten her, because Sylvia was at her side.

Moments later, Velthya rose and walked to the window. She pulled aside the silver curtain, letting the gray light from outside spill into the chamber. The wind still howled, flinging snow against the glass, but its force was no longer as wild as before.

"It seems the storm is beginning to pass," she murmured. "Perhaps by noon the roads can be traveled again. Though… the city will need time to clear away the snowdrifts."

Sylvia only glanced her way, then returned her gaze to the fire. "That doesn't matter. I can wait. What I want more is to know your next step, Velthya."

Velthya closed the curtain and returned to her seat. She drew in a breath and looked at Sylvia seriously. "My next step… I'm not sure yet. I want to protect Anarats, but I can't allow my kingdom to fall into the Church's hands either. That dilemma haunts me every night."

"If you choose silence, they'll swallow you whole," Sylvia replied flatly. "But if you resist, you must be prepared for the consequences."

Velthya lowered her gaze, her fingers idly playing with the tip of her silver tail. "That's just it… I'm afraid, Sylvia. Afraid my decision will drag my people into a war they aren't ready for."

Sylvia tilted her head, eyes steady. "War isn't always swords and blood. Sometimes it begins with words with who you choose to trust. If you want to protect Anarats, then don't leave yourself alone at the negotiating table. Build allies, even if only a few. That is how you survive."

Velthya fell quiet, then slowly smiled bitterly. "Allies… yes. And I suppose, you are the first ally I can truly trust."

Sylvia gave only a small nod in return.

A knock sounded at the door, making both of them look up.

"Enter," Velthya called.

A female servant stepped in, her face somewhat tense. She bowed deeply before speaking.

"My lady… word from the eastern post. Several houses have collapsed under the snow, and the townsfolk need aid."

Velthya immediately stood. "Were there casualties?"

"No confirmed deaths, but some are lightly injured."

Velthya nodded briskly, then turned to Sylvia. "I must go see for myself. Will you come?"

Sylvia rose slowly. "Of course."

They left the chamber together. The stone corridor felt cold despite the torches burning brightly along the walls. Servants and guards bowed deeply as they passed, then quickly returned to their tasks.

When they reached the front courtyard, the wind greeted them at once. The storm had indeed lessened, but its remnants still bit sharply. Snow piled deep on the roads, and in the distance, some rooftops sagged or had collapsed.

Velthya donned her silver-furred cloak, while Sylvia wore only her simple black mantle. They walked side by side through the city streets now filled with townsfolk laboring to clear snow.

A middle-aged man rushed toward them, worry etched on his face. "My lady mayor! The Yarel family's house has collapsed. They need help at once!"

Velthya nodded. "Show us the way."

The man hurried ahead to lead them. Sylvia walked silently, her sharp eyes observing everything. The townsfolk toiled hard some shoveling snow, others carrying timber to repair roofs. Despite the biting cold, their spirits remained firm, perhaps because they knew their leader herself was with them.

When they reached the site, a small wooden house lay partly in ruins. Villagers were already trying to lift the broken beams, while a young mother wept, clutching her two shivering children.

Velthya rushed forward. "Stay calm, I'm here."

She joined the villagers in lifting the beams, her Lycanthrope strength plain as she hoisted with ease what had taken three men before. Sylvia moved as well, though in her own way. Raising her hand, she used her undead power to make several beams float gently aside.

The people stared wide-eyed, but there was no fear, only awe. They all knew Sylvia was their mayor's trusted friend.

In short order, the house was cleared of wreckage, and the Yarel family was saved without serious harm.

The young mother dropped to her knees, bowing deeply. "Thank you… Lady Mayor, Lady Sylvia… I don't know what we would have done without you."

Velthya smiled, patting her shoulder. "Stand. We are all family in this city. I'll see to it you have shelter until your house is rebuilt."

The woman wept again, this time with relief, before being led away by neighbors.

As they walked on, Sylvia glanced at Velthya. "You are truly loved by your people."

Velthya gave a faint smile. "I don't do much. I only make sure they know I stand with them."

"That is more than enough," Sylvia replied.

They continued through the city, seeing with their own eyes how the storm had left scars in many places. Yet behind it all, there was a strong spirit of solidarity.

"Anarats will always rise," Velthya said proudly. "The storm comes, but we remain standing."

Sylvia looked at her for a long moment before speaking softly. "I only hope this spirit does not fade, even when other storms arrive."

Velthya turned, realizing Sylvia meant more than mere snowstorms. Other storms were brewing political, religious, and war.

She grasped Sylvia's hand tightly. "When that comes… I want you at my side."

Sylvia looked at their joined hands, then into her friend's golden eyes. "I never intended to leave."

By midday the storm had fully passed. The gray sky began to show streaks of pale blue, though the sun remained shy. The people resumed their work, fixing homes, clearing streets, lighting fresh torches.

Velthya stood on a small tower near the square, Sylvia beside her. From there, they looked out over the whole city. White, cold, yet full of life.

"Look," Velthya said softly. "This is Anarats. A stubborn little city, but always enduring."

Sylvia's eyes stayed calm as she gazed. "And you, Velthya, are its heart."

Velthya fell silent for a moment, then lowered her head with a smile. "If that's true… then I am fortunate, for this heart does not beat alone."

For them, that day marked a beginning. Not only a beginning after the storm, but the start of new steps toward a future of intrigue, danger, yet also hope.

Evening came, though the sky remained gray. The sun was but a pale circle behind heavy clouds. Snow lay thick on every road, covering rooftops, forming white mounds at every corner.

Sylvia stood in the courtyard of Velthya's residence, her black mantle fluttering gently in the cold wind. Her decision was already made.

"So, you still intend to go to that temple?" Velthya asked, her tone filled with worry. She hugged her silver cloak tighter, her tail flicking uneasily.

"I must," Sylvia answered plainly. Her eyes fixed on the city gates, where the long snow-covered road stretched out like a challenge to any who dared. "I cannot rely on hearsay alone. If the Church truly manipulates so much, I want to hear directly what the Goddess Lumielle has to say."

Velthya sighed, then stepped closer, her hand gripping Sylvia's arm. "If you go, be careful. I know you're stronger than anyone, but the Church… They are cunning. And their temple is no ordinary place."

Sylvia turned, her gaze softening slightly. "I know. I won't be reckless."

For a moment, silence lingered. The night wind bit deep, carrying a cold that sank to the bone. At last Velthya nodded, though clearly with a heavy heart.

"Then… may the light, or whatever stands greater, guard you," she whispered.

Sylvia gave a single nod, then turned away. She walked slowly, leaving her friend's courtyard. Velthya watched that back until it vanished into the white mist of dusk.