Winter had settled over the castle like a heavy, enchanted veil. The lake had frozen into a sheet of quiet glass, and the surrounding woods wore a coat of silver frost that clung to every bare branch. The snow outside hadn’t stopped falling since early morning, muffling the world in a silence so deep it felt almost sacred. Inside, the halls buzzed with laughter and crackling fireplaces, students huddled together under blankets with mugs of tea, unwilling to brave the bitter air that seeped in through the old stone walls.

That’s when you saw him.

Evan was standing at the far end of the passage, just beneath a narrow arch where snowflakes drifted in through a cracked window. The light hit him strangely, pale and silver, making him look like a figure out of some old photograph—still, monochrome, untouchable. He wasn’t wearing a scarf or gloves, just his uniform coat, unbuttoned, with the collar turned up against the wind. One hand was buried in his pocket, the other holding a half-burned cigarette between his fingers. The ember flared briefly as he inhaled, and then dimmed again, the smoke curling lazily from his mouth as he exhaled.

There was something about the way he stood—rigid but tired, like someone who had forgotten what they were waiting for. He didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even flinch. His gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the snow-covered courtyard, past the low stone wall and into the trees beyond.