The Frost estate lay quiet under a silver moon. Beyond the tall windows, snowdrifts glowed faintly, but inside the young lord's chamber, the peace did not last.
Aric Frost thrashed in his sleep, his breaths ragged. His fists clenched the sheets, his body twisting as if bound by unseen chains. A strangled cry escaped his lips, and then—he jolted upright.
Sweat clung to his skin. His chest heaved. For a moment, he could still feel it: the agony of another life, another boy who looked like him, yet lived in some distant world of pain and fire.
He wiped his brow with a shaking hand. "Just a dream," he muttered, though it never felt like one.
Reaching for the jug by his bedside, Aric poured water into a glass and drank in long gulps, trying to steady himself. That was when he heard it—a soft knock at the door.
"Aric?" A gentle voice, hushed but urgent. "Are you alright?"
He froze, then forced his voice steady. "I'm fine, Serina."
The knock came again, firmer this time. "May I come in?"
Aric sighed and set the glass aside. He opened the door, and there she was—Serina, his maid and confidante, with her hair hastily tied back and worry etched across her face. She couldn't have been more than thirteen, just a few years older than him, yet in moments like this she looked older still.
"You're pale," she whispered, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "And sweating. You've had another one, haven't you?"
Aric rubbed at his temple. "Just a bad dream. Nothing worth losing sleep over."
Her brow furrowed. "Don't lie to me. I hear you sometimes, thrashing, crying out. Dreams aren't supposed to leave you like this."
"It's nothing," he insisted, though his voice cracked with exhaustion.
Serina folded her arms, clearly unconvinced. "Nothing doesn't make you look like death itself." She hesitated, softer now. "You've been working too hard. Your lessons, the sword drills, all those books… and now these dreams. You'll break if you keep this pace."
Aric managed a faint smile. "Since when did you start sounding like my mother?"
Her lips twitched, almost a smile, but her eyes stayed worried. "Someone has to. You never take care of yourself."
"I do."
"No, you endure," she said firmly. "That's not the same thing."
Aric's shoulders sagged. He looked at her, really looked at her—the only one in the household who dared to scold him like this. She wasn't just his maid. She was the one who slipped him food when he skipped meals studying, the one who covered for him when tutors pressed too hard, the one who always noticed when he carried more than he let on.
"I'll try," he said at last, quietly.
She searched his face, then nodded. "Good. Try harder. Tomorrow you have lessons with the steward, and if you show up looking like a ghost, everyone will know."
Aric chuckled softly, despite himself. "And you'll say 'I told you so,' won't you?"
"Of course," Serina said with mock pride, then her tone softened again. "Please rest, Aric. I'd rather see you asleep than staring at shadows all night."
He swallowed, the weight of her concern sinking in. "I'll try," he repeated.
Satisfied for now, Serina gave him a small smile, then moved toward the door. "Good night."
"Good night, Serina."
When the door closed, Aric lingered in the silence. He knew she was right. The dreams were gnawing at him, dragging him further from his studies, further from the composure expected of a Frost.
At seven, when his family had been away and the estate nearly fell into chaos, Aric had been the one to step up. He had organized the servants, managed supplies, even fumbled through a merchant dispute. For a boy so young, it had been extraordinary. Lord Cedric had seen enough—his youngest son was no ordinary child.
Since then, Aric's days were filled with lessons in history, politics, diplomacy, and the blade. Though Edrin was older, the mantle of heir was being prepared for Aric instead—the boy who could see order in chaos. His upcoming Awakening would seal it.
But what good was it if he couldn't master his own dreams?
Aric lay back down, Serina's words echoing in his head. The estate was silent again, but sleep did not come easily.