The moon rose into the sky, gleaming like a gem in a velvet suit. Its light illuminated the frozen ground, making the land below twinkle like scattered diamonds.
Creak.
Guuuuuu. Guuuuu.
The carriage groaned beneath James as it swayed in the wind, each bump jarring his cramped body. Curled tightly in the storage space beneath the seat, he struggled to stay still.
"Shhh! …Can you hear that?" one of the servants whispered.
Their chatter cut off instantly. A tense silence followed.
"Open that seat. Let's take a look."
The sound of swords being unsheathed rang out—sharp, sudden.
James's blood ran cold.
Oh no… I've been found out, he thought, heart thudding. He braced himself for what was to come.
"Open the seat," another voice repeated, firmer this time.
They lifted the panel slowly, weapons drawn, ready to strike.
"No—stop! Stop! It's me!" James cried, crammed at the very back of the compartment.
"Ha… young Arcturus? What are you doing here?" asked a young servant with ivory skin, wide eyes, and hair braided in intricate patterns.
"Well… well, I… I was…" James stammered, eyes darting around, desperately searching for an excuse.
"Well?" she pressed, raising an eyebrow.
"All right, all right! I snuck in. I just… I wanted to see my grandfather."
It wasn't much of an excuse—but it was the truth.
"Oh, young master… do you realize how dangerous a situation you've put us in?" Her voice trembled, close to tears. "The House of Dewald, traveling with an heir of House Arcturus—without permission? Are you trying to start a war?"
James hadn't thought it through. Truly, to the outside world, it could look like House Dewald had kidnapped him. Noble affairs were delicate, dangerous things.
"I have to call the Lady," she muttered, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a small, mirror-shaped artifact. She waved her hand over its surface, then scribbled something with a crystal stylus.
Moments later, the mirror pulsed with light—and Sapphire's face appeared within the glass.
"Miss, the young Arcturus… he's become a stowaway," the servant announced.
"What?!" Sapphire's voice rang with sharp disbelief.
"James? James, are you really there?" Annie's voice called faintly in the background.
He flinched.
He couldn't bear to face her—not like this.
"Pardon my bluntness, young master," Sapphire said coldly, "but what you did was reckless."
"What shall we do with him?" one of the other servants asked.
"Now, now—don't speak like we're some kind of thugs," Ruby said sternly. "It's too late to turn back. Reflemuir is already in sight, and his grandfather will be there anyway. We shall hand him over once we land."
A wave of relief washed over James at her words.
"I'm truly sorry to have put you in this situation, milady," he finally said, his voice steadier.
Sapphire didn't respond.
Outside, the city of Reflemuir loomed ahead, shrouded in snow and shadow. Its spires and towers rose like frozen sentinels against the pale horizon, wrapped in silence and ancient secrets.
James peered through the frost-speckled window as the carriage drew closer.
He had memorized an old poem once—something about Reflemuir:
Where Winter Weaves a Whisper
In the hushed heart of the north, where winter spins its tale,
A city sleeps in silver, beneath a frosted veil.
Each ancient castle, cloaked in white, stands sentinel and deep,
While charming, cobblestone streets in quiet wonder sleep.
A plateau crowns the panorama, vast and still and low,
Catching the dim, soft light of the sun-kissed snow.
Here, history breathes a silent breath, grand and solemn, old,
A tapestry of ages, bravely to unfold.
There's a calm in the crisp air, a breathless, waiting peace,
A hushed anticipation, as if time itself would cease.
Before the coming tempest, a stillness takes its hold,
And in that perfect quiet, a feeling of wonder, pure and bold.
True, perhaps but today—
The streets echoed with chaos,
And screams haunted the night.
"Run… run, Marren!" a voice called out.
"Mother! …Mother, where are you?" a child's voice cried.
Blood painted the streets crimson, splattered like puddles beneath shattered lamps. The usual glow of Reflemuir was gone—replaced by broken glass and the acrid smoke of war.
The carriages landed with a jolt, only for the passengers to behold a nightmare: dismembered limbs lay strewn across the cobbled roads like fallen vines, twitching in the snow.
"Colbay, look after the children," Sapphire commanded, stepping down from the carriage.
In her palm rested a gleaming pendant, grand and elegant, its gem the same hue as her sapphire-blue hair. It was her Sig, and as she clasped it around her neck, glowing lines slithered from it across her chest and shoulders, like a living serpent of light.
"I'm afraid… it's already begun," Ruby murmured, stepping down behind her daughter. Without another word, they both moved quickly toward the heart of the city.
There, they found the Arcturus family under siege, locked in desperate combat against masked invaders. They were being pushed back.
The central plaza was unrecognizable—the streets cracked open, leaving jagged chasms in their wake. The once-proud fountain was reduced to a single shattered brick.
"Arthur, behind you!" Alexandre shouted, hurling a fireball over his son's shoulder. It crashed into an oncoming enemy, blasting them back in a plume of ash.
Enchantments roared through the air, fiery and arcane as the two sides exchanged volleys of magical fire.
"Lord Diago's not going to make it!" a soldier cried. "We need a Divine Priestess!"
"There are none left!" another replied, his blade slicing down a masked attacker. "They killed them all—first thing they did!"
"What are these things?" another soldier gasped. "They have no faces… no emotions. We strike them down, but they get up again. Are they even human—?"
He never finished. A spear made from ice tore through his side.
"Take Jasmine and get back to the manor!" Alexandre barked, leaning against a fallen pillar, blood trailing down his side. "I'll try to recover Draco!"
"Men, gather the civilians! Evacuate to the shore!" shouted Commander Glesious, a sharp-featured man in his mid-forties with slicked-back silver hair and a long strand curled across his brow. His presence was commanding—noble by birth, and it showed.
"Sir, some of them are refusing to go," a young cadet said breathlessly. "Some are still searching for their children. And the others… the others have turned. They're fighting us."
"WHY SHOULD WE DIE FOR A WAR STARTED BY ARISTOCRATS?!" a rebel's voice rang out above the chaos. "ARE WE NOT HUMAN TOO? IS OUR BLOOD NOT WORTHY?! THIS IS THE END OF THEIR TYRANNY! THE DAWN OF US—THE PEOPLE OF THE NOTHING!"
His cry ignited the crowd, but it only added fuel to the bloodshed.
At the heart of the plaza, Draco—James's cousin—was bound in chains, bruised and bloodied, caged like an animal for all to see. The Arcturus were fighting not just for survival... but for him.
"Cover me," Ronin shouted, sliding behind a broken wall, his blade already gleaming. "I'm going to break their lines and free Draco."
The Dewald family entered the scene like a whirlwind—disarming, dismembering, and tearing through the masked forces with terrifying precision. Gone was their usual delicate elegance. Now, boulders flew from their fingertips, crushing enemies, and not a single strike landed on them. They moved like they had eyes on their backs.
In no time, they were fighting side by side with the Arcturus family.
"My lord, we are from House Dewald," Sapphire said, catching Alexandre as he staggered. She gently poured a silvery liquid over his wound.
He jolted from the sting, but the injuries closed almost instantly.
"I know who you are," Alexandre said between breaths. "Your hair gave it away… But truly, thank you."
"You might want to hold your thanks…" Sapphire hesitated, then raised a shimmering translucent shield with a flick of her hand. "There was… a small mishap on the way here."
She leaned in and whispered, "Your grandson… James. He's here. He stowed away."
Alexandre's eyes widened. "What? This is no place for a child—!"
But he didn't wait for more. He surged to his feet, fury and magic at his fingertips. With a sweep of his hand, five enemies burst into flame, their bodies flying backward.
Ronin appeared at his side, sword flashing. Together, they carved through the masked attackers like wildfire.
"Wait—don't—!" Sapphire called after him, but her warning was drowned by another massive explosion.
Somehow, James had slipped out of the carriage once again—this time with Annie's help and his illusion magic, which had grown unnervingly strong.
He ran through the devastated streets, heart pounding, his boots splashing through blood and snow. He couldn't stop—not now. He'd seen something. He had to warn his grandfather.
When he finally reached the city center, his voice broke through the chaos:
"Grandpa—NO! Don't open that cage!"
But the sounds of battle were too loud. Alexandre didn't hear him.
"Hang on, Draco. Let me get you out," Alexandre said, rushing to the cage. The captors guarding it had already been defeated—almost too easily, in fact.
Clang!
The final lock clicked open. Draco collapsed into Alexandre's arms, limp and shivering.
"I've got you… I've got you," Alexandre whispered, holding him close.
"G-Grandpa…" Draco tried to speak, eyes wet with tears.
Then—like a dream turning to nightmare—Alexandre felt it.
A sharp, cold pain in his back.
He turned, shocked, and saw Ronin's blade driven through him.
"W-What…?" Alexandre gasped, stumbling backward.
Before he could react further, a second pain tore through his chest. He looked down to see a small dagger lodged there—held by Draco.
No... not Draco. Alexandre thoughts raced
"Grandpa! That's not Draco!" James shouted again—but another explosion drowned him out.