It was snowing again in her dreams.
Not the biting, violent kind that howled through crumbling stone halls — no. This snow fell quietly. Each flake shimmered as it drifted upward, defying gravity like time reversing itself. She stood in the middle of it, hands bare, watching her breath fog in the air. Someone was calling her name. Not urgently. Gently.
"Elle."
The voice shifted — softer, closer. Then her door creaked open and her mother's voice followed.
"Elle, dear. Morning has long since come."
The warmth of sunlight had begun pooling at the edge of her sheets. Elle blinked, the last of the dream vanishing like frost on glass. She sat up slowly, her hair a tangle of silver-white waves that slipped past her shoulders.
"I'm awake," she murmured.
Marielle Cecilia walked in, elegant even in morning robes, and sat at the edge of the bed like she used to when Elle was a child afraid of thunder. She reached out and brushed back Elle's bangs, her fingers as soft as always.
"You looked so peaceful," her mother said, smoothing a strand behind Elle's ear. "I didn't want to wake you."
Elle smiled faintly, but said nothing. Her mother was glowing in the morning light, unburdened and kind. She didn't know what the future held. She couldn't know.
Elle reached for her mother's hand and held it for just a moment longer than usual.
"Is something wrong?" Marielle asked, tilting her head.
"No. I just… had a strange dream."
Marielle smiled, brushing her knuckles along Elle's cheek. "If you remember it later, you can tell me."
Elle nodded.
But she wouldn't.
---
The breakfast table was filled with the scent of honeyed bread and sun-dried tomatoes, steam curling off warm ceramic dishes. Nigel Cecilia was already halfway through a document, even while sipping his tea, while Elijah and Eleazar were busy arguing over who had beaten the other in sword practice yesterday.
"You cheated," Eleazar said between bites of sausage. "You used that stupid foot trick again."
"It's called strategy," Elijah replied, leaning back with a grin. "Sorry your reaction speed's tragic."
Elle sat quietly at first, watching them like she was relearning them. The subtle way Eleazar always glanced at their father before speaking. The way Elijah picked the crust off his toast like he didn't even realize he was doing it. They were exactly the same — still untouched by what was coming.
"Elle, you're quiet today." Elijah's voice pulled her back. "Did a ghost whisper in your dreams again?"
She blinked. "What?"
Eleazar smirked. "You always make that face when you're stuck in your head. Were you thinking of that boy who tripped over his chair trying to talk to you at the winter ball?"
"I wasn't," Elle said plainly, but there was a slight twitch of her lips.
"Oh no," Elijah groaned. "She was. Elle. He looked like he was going to cry."
Nigel folded his paper. "Perhaps we should avoid bullying every boy who looks at your sister."
"No promises," the twins said in unison.
The teasing continued, but Elle only half-heard it. This was what she'd missed in the beginning, last time — the ease, the noise, the scent of fresh bread and lavender soap, the way her father sipped his tea in silence, pretending not to smile.
She looked at all of them.
And silently promised: I won't lose this.
---
By noon, Faye arrived.
She came laughing, scarf half falling off her shoulder, cheeks flushed from the walk up the hill. "You'd think the Cecilia estate would have solved wind by now," she said, shaking her curls loose. "But I've been nearly swept off my feet — literally."
Elle smiled, already feeling the beginnings of her usual headaches.
They went to the study. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows as Faye laid out crystal spheres and clean parchment. She opened some ancient books she brought from her place that will hopefully help with Elle's studies. She decipher everything written in there and began the lessons regarding the text about spirits, their nature, their purpose, the ups and downs and many more.
Elle listened as if it's the most important thing in her life, as if everything depends on it.
---
That night, when the household quieted, Elle slipped off her slippers and knelt on the cold marble of her floor. She pressed a hand to the rug and whispered, "Now."
A shadow passed through the wall, curling like smoke before forming into something vaguely humanoid — two eyes, flickering crimson, stared down at her.
"Ready to stop pretending?"
She nodded.
They didn't speak after that.
Her first lesson in stealth began. Moving without being seen. Listening without being heard. Sable's instructions were wordless, almost instinctual. A strange pressure against her limbs guided her motions — duck here, breathe shallowly, still your weight, listen.
It was frustrating, humiliating even. She tripped more than once. Sable said nothing, but she felt his disapproval like heat against her spine.
When her body ached and her breath stung, he finally stopped.
"Again tomorrow. You'll need it."
Elle crawled back to bed and fell asleep without dreams.
---
The next morning, she took a quiet walk through the estate. She greeted familiar staff, smiled at old maids who pinched her cheek, and paused to tie her ribbon beside two footmen discussing wine deliveries. They didn't even realize she was listening.
"Lord Benjamin's guests are staying longer, huh?"
"Another week, I heard. Always keeping to themselves."
She moved on.
It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Later that day, when she returned to her room, she opened a desk drawer she hadn't touched in years. Inside, beneath unused letters and a dusty sketchbook, she found the thin ledger of past family donations.
She flipped through pages until a name jumped out.
Rosenthal Orphanage.
She stared at it.
The ink was faded, but she remembered it clearly. When everything had fallen apart — when even the nobility turned their backs — this was the only name that reached out. The only place that didn't flinch at the Cecilia name.
And now, it might be the place she needed most.
She closed the book, fingers tight against the cover.
There was a knock.
She startled, hiding the ledger.
Elijah stood in the doorway with a plate in hand. "Caught the kitchen maid sneaking these," he said. "Figured you were still skipping dinner."
Elle blinked. "I wasn't."
"You always say that when you are." He placed the plate down. "Don't stay up too long."
She nodded, watching him disappear down the hall.
Then, slowly, she picked up a fresh page of parchment and wrote a single word at the top:
Plan.