When at last Thalia drew back, she cupped William's face with trembling hands, as though afraid he might still vanish.
"I truly thought you were gone," she whispered.
William smiled softly, eyes glassy. "And I thought I'd failed you — failed everyone."
She shook her head. "You lived. That's more than most can say."
He exhaled shakily, then asked, "My father…?"
The question came quiet, hesitant. Her eyes faltered. For a heartbeat she said nothing — the silence itself told him more than words could.
"Thalia," he said, voice barely holding. "Tell me."
Her lips parted, trembling. "I saw it, William. I saw it happen." Her voice cracked; she swallowed hard. "The castle fell before dawn. The flames climbed so high they swallowed the towers. He—he fought until the end. But Virvo… he burned everything. The people, the knights, the fields… all gone."
William stared past her for a moment, his mind blank. Then his head bowed. "Ashes," he murmured. "All of it, ashes."
Thalia reached for his hand. "We'll rebuild one day," she said. "But first, we stop the man who did this."
As they spoke, Vincent had drifted a few paces away — his curiosity drawn to the tall, dark man who had stood silent all this time, watching them with unreadable calm.
Vincent squinted. "You've been awful quiet. What are you, some kind of monk?"
Anisda's head turned slightly. "Something like that."
Vincent nodded slowly, trying not to stare. Then he frowned. "You been in mud or something?"
A pause. A long one.
Then Anisda sighed, weary but controlled. "No. This is the color of my skin."
Vincent blinked, embarrassed. "Ah. Well. That's… permanent then."
"It tends to be," Anisda replied dryly.
Vincent scratched the back of his neck. "Huh. You wear it well."
Anisda's eyes narrowed faintly — amusement and irritation fighting for dominance. "Is this your way of making conversation?"
Vincent grinned. "It's worked so far. You haven't killed me yet."
Anisda gave him a long look — the kind that could make a lesser man forget how to breathe. Then, with a quiet exhale, he turned away. "I'm reconsidering."
Vincent smirked. "See? That's the spirit."
Deciding he'd pushed his luck far enough, he wandered back to Thalia and William, still rubbing his arm. "He's friendly," he muttered under his breath.
Thalia gave a faint smile despite the grief in her eyes. "Vincent, this is Anisda."
"Right. The silent type."
William straightened, studying Anisda properly for the first time. "You travel with my princess?"
"She travels with me," Anisda corrected simply.
William frowned. "And you are?"
"Her guide," he said. "Her protector, for now."
Vincent leaned forward a little. "He's not from here, that's for sure."
"No," Anisda said, voice low, "I'm not."
William hesitated, glancing again at his dark skin, his almost inhuman stillness. "Forgive me, but—"
Anisda cut him off gently. "You were about to ask why my skin is different."
William froze.
"It's all right," Anisda said. "It is not a curse, nor a mark of sin. It is simply how I was born. The world chose its colors long before any of us were here."
Vincent raised a brow. "Poetic."
"Truth often is," Anisda replied.
Before either could speak again, Anisda turned slightly toward the mist. "We should move. I must return to the Welch Lands."
Thalia looked up. "As must I."
William's head snapped toward her. "The Welch Lands? Thalia, no one returns from there."
Vincent nodded quickly. "He's right. I've heard tales — cold that eats the marrow, air thick with ghosts. Why in the gods' names would you go there?"
Thalia met their eyes, her voice steady. "Because the kingdom has fallen, and Virvo's darkness grows. There is someone there — someone who can help me understand what's happening to me. The power that burst from me that night…" she hesitated, glancing at Anisda, "it's tied to something older than Yainna. I must learn to control it — and to stop him."
William frowned, trying to follow. "You're saying your power — your magic — is what he's after?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I know it's the key to ending him."
Vincent ran a hand through his hair. "So we're just marching into the coldest, most cursed wasteland on the map because your hair glowed once?"
"Something like that," Thalia said softly.
He groaned. "Wonderful."
Anisda glanced toward him. "There are people there — of a kind. Not wholly human, but people nonetheless. They can help us."
William shook his head. "The Welch Lands aren't meant for the living."
Anisda's tone darkened. "Then it's a good thing we're not all entirely living."
The words hung there — cold, true, unsettling.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then William straightened, hand still resting on his sword hilt. "If Thalia goes, then so do I."
Thalia turned sharply. "William, no. It's dangerous."
He met her gaze. "So was dying. Didn't stop me the first time."
Vincent groaned again, rubbing his temples. "And here I thought I was the idiot." He looked at Anisda. "Guess that leaves me then. Someone has to keep these noble lunatics from freezing to death."
Anisda regarded him curiously. "You'll come?"
Vincent shrugged. "Not without a stop first. Closest village to the border — Emberlyn. We'll need food, clothes, and something that doesn't smell like horse before we start wandering through ice and monsters."
Anisda tilted his head slightly. "You speak as though you've been there."
Vincent smiled thinly. "Maybe I just know when something's colder than it looks."
Anisda didn't press. There was something strange about the way he said it — too casual to be truth, too pointed to be a lie.
Thalia adjusted her cloak, her eyes set north. "Then Emberlyn first. From there, the bridge to the Welch Lands."
William nodded. "And after that?"
Thalia's voice was quiet but sure. "After that, we find the witch who can tell us what we are truly up against."
The mist began to clear as they left the ruined bridge behind. The river whispered beside them, carrying both ashes and hope downstream.
Four souls — a princess, a knight, a thief, and a vampire — walked together into the gray.
The road ahead was long and cruel, but for the first time in a long while, none of them walked it alone.