The palace had grown silent. Too silent.
Even the air seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for something ancient to wake.
Serenya walked through the frozen corridor, her reflection following her in the glass-like walls. Every step echoed like a secret whispered through time. The crescent mark on her wrist pulsed faintly—slow, steady, alive. It had been reacting more often lately, especially whenever the Emperor drew near.
She hated how her heart answered it.
In the great hall, Vael stood by the ice throne, his gaze fixed on the frost spreading across the floor. He didn't move when she entered. The glow from the torches made his pale hair shimmer, but his eyes remained cold, unreadable.
"The ice is restless," Serenya said softly.
Vael turned to her at last. "It remembers," he replied. "Every soul that once called this palace home. Every oath broken. Every bearer who fell."
His words made the hall seem colder. Serenya stepped closer despite herself. "And what does it remember of you?"
His expression didn't change, but something in the air shifted—like a storm held behind glass.
"That I was the one who never forgot."
The mark on her wrist burned suddenly bright. The walls trembled. For a heartbeat, she swore she heard voices beneath the ice, murmuring her name.
When Vael's gaze met hers, the palace stilled once more.
But Serenya understood something terrifying then—
the ice was not only remembering.
It was listening.