The fire flickered weakly, its light dancing along the cold stone walls of the servant's quarters. Kael sat hunched on the edge of the cot, the thin blanket draped over his shoulders doing little to dispel the chill that seemed to have settled deep within his bones. His fingers trembled faintly as they wrapped around the warm bowl of porridge Lydia had set before him, but the heat barely reached him.
"Eat," Lydia said, her voice clipped but not unkind. She stood near the door, arms folded tightly across her chest. "You'll be no use to anyone if you collapse again."
Kael didn't respond. The spoon dipped into the porridge, rising and falling in mechanical movements, but the food held no flavor. It was nourishment, nothing more—a means to silence the emptiness gnawing at him.
Lydia watched him for a moment, then let out a sigh. "You should rest." Her tone softened slightly. "The snow will still be there tomorrow. The garden can wait."
"I can't," Kael said quietly. His voice was steady but carried an edge that made Lydia's brow furrow.
"What?"
Kael set the empty bowl aside and stood, steadying himself as he pushed the blanket off his shoulders. His limbs still felt heavy, but the weakness was manageable. "I'll go back now."
"You're serious?"
He didn't answer, reaching for the basin of water in the corner. The icy liquid shocked his skin as he splashed it over his face and neck, washing away the haze of exhaustion. It felt cleansing—like an awakening.
"Kael—" Lydia started again, but he cut her off.
"I won't push myself," he said, meeting her gaze. "I'll be fine."
She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line, but eventually, she stepped aside. "Do what you want. But don't expect me to haul you back in if you drop again."
Kael inclined his head briefly and slipped out into the corridor, the cold air rushing to meet him as he stepped outside.
-----
The world was white.
Snow blanketed the earth in layers of pristine stillness, untouched save for the faint tracks left behind from the morning. It muffled every sound, creating an unnatural hush that settled over the palace grounds like a shroud.
Kael's boots crunched against the frost as he made his way to the garden. The air bit at his skin, sharp and unforgiving, but he welcomed it. It kept him grounded, present.
He picked up the shovel where he had left it, brushing off the frost that had already begun to settle. The garden, though stripped of color by winter's touch, still carried a strange, quiet beauty. The skeletal branches of dormant trees reached skyward, their shadows stretching long and jagged across the snow. Withered vines clung to trellises, frozen in delicate spirals.
Kael began to dig.
The rhythmic scrape of metal against packed ice filled the silence, steady and purposeful. Each movement sent small clouds of snow scattering into the air, catching the pale light like fragments of broken glass.
The work gave him focus, something to anchor himself to. With each shovelful, the tension in his chest eased, and the storm of unanswered questions in his mind dulled.
But then, the feeling came.
A chill—not from the cold, but something deeper, sharper—crept along his spine.
Kael paused, his breath misting in the air as he straightened. The sensation pressed against him, heavy and unshakable, like unseen eyes tracing his every movement.
Slowly, he turned.
His gaze swept the snow-covered courtyard, the walls of the castle towering beyond it, until his eyes lifted higher—toward one of the windows overlooking the garden.
And there she was.
Princess Seraphina.
She stood like a statue, framed by the glass and stone, her figure partially veiled by the frost collecting on the panes. Yet even from this distance, Kael could feel the weight of her stare.
Their eyes met, and the air seemed to shift.
The world shrank, the noise of his breathing and the scrape of the shovel fading into nothing. The weight of her gaze pressed into him, sharp and unrelenting, as if peeling back the layers he had tried to hide behind.
Kael's pulse quickened.
She didn't move, didn't flinch, as if she expected him to look away first. But he didn't. He couldn't.
The wind stirred, sending a flurry of snow across the garden, and the cold suddenly felt unbearable.
Kael was the one to break the stare. He lowered his head quickly, the sudden absence of her gaze leaving him feeling exposed.
He forced himself to keep working, his hands tightening around the shovel.
He could still feel her watching him.
Even without looking, he could picture her standing there—imperious and distant, like the snow that blanketed the world around them. Untouchable.
Kael's shoulders tensed as he dug harder, pushing the shovel into the frozen ground.
She saw weakness in him.
He knew it from the way she'd looked at him earlier—from the words she'd spoken like knives meant to cut deep.
And maybe she was right.
But Kael clenched his jaw and kept going, his breaths steady despite the ache that gnawed at his muscles. He wouldn't let himself falter again. Not in front of her. Not in front of anyone.
The wind howled, sweeping through the garden like a ghost, but Kael didn't stop.
Even as frost bit at his skin and shadows stretched long across the snow, he worked.
Because he wasn't weak.