The wind gnawed at him like it held a grudge. Every step Arhen took sank into a world made of nothing but white—white sky, white ground, white breath leaving his lips in aching clouds. Yuriana didn’t even have landscapes like this; this wasn’t some imperial winter garden or a northern training ground. This was wilderness. Raw. Unmapped. A place the empire didn’t bother naming because even mana struggled to cling to it.

He hadn’t meant to come here. One badly timed panic-surge of ice mana while he was hiding from Kirra’s sharp, hawk-bright stare had warped reality around him. He teleported. Too far, too fast, too hurt to focus on direction. So now here he was—lost in an ancient tundra that felt like it resented anything warm-blooded staying alive.

Snowflakes clung to his lashes like tiny needles. His boots were soaked. Even his breath felt heavy.

Everyone back home was probably flipping the empire upside down looking for him. He could practically picture it:

Lloyd barking orders. Alec trying to track his mana trail with that healer’s precision. Eiji cursing under his breath while pretending he wasn’t worried. The Emperor trying not to show panic. Kirra circling overhead somewhere in Yuriana, furious with herself for losing sight of him.

And Arienne—his twin—her mind pounding on their mental link like a frantic fist, begging him to answer. To come home. To not shut her out. Her emotional waves crashing against the wall he’d put up.

But he’d blocked her. He’d blocked everyone.

Because none of them really understood the ache sitting in his ribs, the cold bruise that wasn’t from weather but from watching Jason hover around Arienne like she was the only twin born that day. Jason cared. Sure. Or he tried. But no matter how much Arhen told himself it wasn’t intentional, it didn’t change the sting of being the half of the pair nobody prioritized. The twin with the weaker bond. The one who only existed in the guardian’s peripheral vision.

Hot tears stung his eyes, defying the freezing wind. He swiped at them quickly, even though nobody was around to see the “Icy Prince” fall apart. Old habits stuck like frostbite—don’t show weakness, don’t let it spill, don’t let anyone feel guilty over it.

He trudged on until something—no, someone—pulled at him. A tug, soft as breath, humming along the edges of his mana. Unfamiliar. Ancient. Curious.

Arhen slowed.

Up ahead, half-buried in a wind-carved cradle of snow, was a massive shape. Not threatening—just there. Waiting.

A fox. But not like any fox he’d ever seen.

You were enormous, with fur so white it blended into the storm until it almost looked carved from the landscape itself. Long tails—three? four?—lay folded around your body like drifting snowdrifts. Your ears were pointed, regal. Your eyes were closed in sleep.

And the whole creature was sealed inside a crystal-clear bubble of ice, smooth and perfect as glass. No cracks. No signs of struggle. You weren't trapped—You were resting. Preserved. Protected. Guarded by time itself.

Arhen’s breath caught. The pull in his chest intensified, warm, impossible, a strange thrum that felt like a heartbeat brushing against his own.

You…

He didn’t know why, but the word spilled out of him in a whisper. As if he recognized this fox. As if something in him had been waiting to find it.

He stepped closer, gloved fingers brushing the ice. Power flared under his skin, a shimmer of blue mana curling through his veins, instinctive and gentle. Without thinking, he pressed both hands against the frozen shell.

The ice began to melt.

Slowly. Carefully. Magic whispering in thin lines of liquid that trickled down the pristine surface. Steam hissed in the air around him, curling like ghostly ribbons.

You remained motionless, serene, untouched by the chaos of the storm.

Arhen’s chest rose and fell, breath uneven. For the first time in days, the cold didn’t bite. Something else did. Hope.