[The Frost and the Light]

The wind carries the faintest whisper of warmth, a gentle contrast to the icy stillness of the Winter Woods. I stand at the border, where frost meets the first breath of spring, where memories cling to the air like snowflakes refusing to melt.

How long has it been since I last saw her? Since I last heard her voice, warm and golden, like the first rays of sunlight touching the frozen earth? Time has a cruel way of stretching moments, of making them feel both distant and painfully close all at once.

“Clarion…”

Her name barely leaves my lips, swallowed by the wind that rushes between us, an invisible force as unyielding as the rule that keeps us apart. It has been seasons—years, even—but still, I find myself here, drawn to the place where our worlds nearly touched, where love dared to defy the laws of nature itself.

I close my eyes, and for a moment, I can almost feel her beside me. The way she would smile, bright and full of life, as if she carried the very essence of the sun within her. The way she would laugh—soft, yet powerful, able to melt even the coldest of winters. The way she once reached for my hand, her warmth seeping into my skin, making me believe—if only for a fleeting second—that we could rewrite fate.

But fate is not so easily changed.

I still remember the pain of that day—the searing heat against my wings, the sharp, unbearable crack as one shattered beyond repair. I remember the fear in her eyes, the way she held me as if she could somehow shield me from the consequences of what we had done. But some things cannot be undone. Some wounds never truly heal.

I open my eyes and take a step back, retreating into the cold embrace of my world.

But before I leave, I glance toward the sky, where the stars shine as they did on the night we first met.

“Do you still look at them, Clarion? Do you still think of me?”