Outside the palace gates, the once cheerful city of Caelthorn had fallen into chaos.
Crowds gathered at the royal walls, shouting for aid, demanding food, warmth, and answers. Snow clung to their cloaks and lashes, their hands frozen red from the endless cold. Children cried. Men shouted. Women pleaded. Some threw stones at the iron gates.
"Let us in!"
"My child is dying!"
"Do we not serve this kingdom too?"
Inside the courtyard, royal guards raised shields, standing shoulder to shoulder to hold the growing tide of despair. The captain barked orders.
"Push them back!"
"Keep the gates closed!"
"We don't have enough firewood for the whole kingdom!"
High above, from the arched balcony of the Great Hall, King Magnus looked down upon his people—his face grim and unmoved.
Behind him, Queen Margot stood with arms crossed, eyes half-lidded with something unreadable. Edric leaned by a pillar in silence, watching his father.
"They're panicking," the queen said coldly. "Fear breeds anger. Soon, they'll blame us."
"They already do," Magnus muttered.
"We cannot feed everyone. The frost has reached the outer granaries."
Magnus turned away.
"I'll find the cause," he said darkly. "Even if I have to walk into hell myself."
Margot blinked. "You… would seek the past?"
"You said it yourself," he snapped. "This might be tied to what happened years ago. To what we buried and never spoke of again."
She looked away, her voice lowering. "That was a mistake I thought had ended..."
He did not wait for her to finish. "Ready my horse."
---
That night, without fanfare or escort, King Magnus rode alone into the deepest woods.
The frost grew thicker with each step of his steed. The trees were tall, ancient, and twisted like frozen claws. There was no sound but the crackling of snow beneath hoofbeats and the distant whisper of wind.
Finally, deep in the heart of the forest, he found a crooked tent of bone and black cloth, nestled between roots.
A voice rasped from within.
"Enter, king of blood."
Magnus stepped inside.
A fire burned blue in the center of the room. Sitting before it was a withered crone wrapped in grey rags, her face hidden beneath a veil of tangled silver hair.
"You have come late," she whispered.
"I came when it was necessary," the king replied.
She smiled, revealing broken teeth.
> "You live among stone and war. But what you face now is neither. The curse is old. Older than your reign. Older than your crown."
"Speak clearly," he growled.
> "A child of the woods lives still. A maiden with snow in her hair and green fire in her gaze. Her blood holds the key. Kill her… and the snow will end."
Magnus clenched his jaw. "An elf?"
The crone nodded slowly.
> "One of the last. And pure. She must bleed."
Without another word, the king turned and left the tent—his eyes burning with certainty.
---
Back at the palace, the mood was different.
Edric sat alone in the great hall, his eyes on the flames dancing in the hearth. His mind was unsettled, restless. When the doors opened with force, he rose at once.
His father entered, cloak torn and frosted with ice.
"Where have you been?" Edric asked.
Magnus said nothing at first. He removed his gloves slowly, then turned to face his son.
"I went to find truth," he said. "And now I have it."
Edric narrowed his eyes. "Truth about what?"
"A curse. A creature. Something that doesn't belong in this world. And I will kill it."
"A creature?" Edric scoffed. "What creature?"
Magnus walked past him. "That doesn't concern you."
"Then why return looking like death?" Edric's voice rose slightly. "Don't hide what I deserve to know."
The king stopped.
"You will do your duty, and guard the palace."
"I can fight."
"You will obey."
"I'm not a child."
"You're not ready," Magnus said coldly.
Silence fell between them like a sword.
"Then make me ready," Edric said through gritted teeth.
The king turned, his face hard. "If you must prove yourself… wait. When the time comes, the kingdom will need more than a sword—it will need a leader."
Edric looked away, jaw tight.
---
The next morning, horns blew from the barracks.
Steel clashed. Flags waved. The entire courtyard thundered with the steps of more than a hundred soldiers, armored in black and silver, ready to ride into the forest.
Edric watched them from above, hands gripping the stone railing.
They were going without him.
---
Inside the royal garden, Queen Margot met him.
She smiled thinly. "They will succeed, your father believes."
"And if they don't?"
She tilted her head. "Then winter wins."
He stared at her. "You're not afraid?"
"Of snow?" she asked. "Or of what your father will become?"
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment too long.
"Be careful, Edric," she whispered. "Some answers lead only to ruin."
---
That evening, Edric sat on the throne—not as a ruler, but as a shadow. The palace was quiet. The soldiers had gone. The king had vanished into the snow. The silence was unbearable.
Silas entered quietly.
"You look like a ghost," his younger brother said, walking closer. "Have you even slept?"
Edric didn't respond.
Silas sat beside him.
"You could still catch up to them," he said softly. "You ride faster than anyone."
"I was told to stay," Edric said flatly.
"Since when did you listen?"
A faint smile almost touched Edric's lips.
"I need you to stay here," Edric finally said, looking at him. "Keep the palace steady. Keep the people calm. You can do it."
Silas blinked. "Wait… you're leaving?"
Edric stood. "Three days have passed. If they haven't found anything yet, they're not going to."
"You don't even know what you're looking for!"
"Neither do they."
Silas grabbed his arm. "Brother, wait—!"
But Edric had already moved.
---
In the stables, he readied his black horse in silence. His hands moved with purpose, his breath visible in the cold air.
Queen Margot appeared, voice soft and urgent.
"Where are you going?"
"To find what they couldn't," Edric said.
"You don't understand what's out there."
"I don't care."
She stepped forward. "I won't let you go."
"You can't stop me."
"Please," her voice broke for the first time. "Edric…"
He looked back at her. Her eyes shimmered with something he couldn't place. Was it fear? Guilt?
Or… a secret?
He said nothing more.
He mounted the horse, gripped the reins, and rode into the endless snow.