Nathan rested in a space that was neither earth nor sky, but something purer, whiter, more serene. It was a realm woven from frost and silence, a sanctuary of immaculate light where no sound lingered for long. This was Khione's domain—her private, ethereal world where time seemed to drift differently, slower, softer, as if eternity itself had been dressed in snow.
Normally, these visits filled him with peace. Here, he could lay down his burdens and simply exist beside his first wife, the goddess who had once bound herself to him, and their daughter, who had been born from that unlikely union. Yet today, the atmosphere carried a faint chill sharper than usual, one not of Khione's divine winter but of her mood. His goddess-wife was sulking, a quiet storm that lingered unseen but deeply felt.
