The palace slept, but the ice listened.
Serenya woke with a sharp breath, her heart pounding for reasons she could not name. The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint blue glow seeping from the frozen walls. Silence pressed in—thick, unnatural.
Then she heard it.
A whisper.
Not a voice, but a presence, crawling beneath the ice like something alive.
She rose slowly from the bed, bare feet touching the cold floor. Instead of biting, the frost warmed beneath her skin, responding to her touch. The realization sent a shiver through her.
"Impossible…" she murmured.
The whisper grew stronger as she moved toward the balcony doors. Outside, the storm had stopped. The ice palace stood frozen beneath a silver moon—and directly below, the ice courtyard was cracked.
A symbol glowed faintly beneath the surface.
Serenya's breath caught. It was ancient. Powerful. And familiar in a way that made her chest ache.
Behind her, the air shifted.
Vael stood in the doorway, eyes glowing brighter than she had ever seen them. "You feel it too," he said.
She turned. "What is it?"
His jaw tightened. "A seal. One that should never have stirred."
The ice beneath the palace groaned, a low warning echoing through the walls.
Vael stepped closer, placing a hand over hers. Where their skin touched, frost spiraled outward—and the symbol below flared in response.
His eyes widened slightly.
"You are not just a pawn sold to me," he said quietly. "You are tied to this realm."
Serenya swallowed. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Vael said, voice grave, "that the enemies gathering beyond these walls are not coming for my throne."
He looked at her—at the ice answering her call.
"They are coming for you."