Blood spread across the floor in a creeping tide, lapping at the toes of Adeline's boots. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints as she stared at Gerard's headless body—still twitching, still gushing in grotesque spurts from the stump of his neck. His head rolled away, bumping to a stop at Lucien's boots.

From the ground, Gerard's eyes, still wide, found themselves staring at Lucien's face.

Lucien stared back. No fury, no satisfaction. Only a cold stare, like a winter night when the snow has buried all sound.

In that narrowing tunnel of his fading sight, Gerard remembered, the weight of that hand on his shoulder years ago, the low, unhurried voice that had slipped like frost into his bones:

"I wonder... how would it feel, Gerard, to see your head severed by my sword and roll from your shoulders—would your face freeze in terror, or would you still be smirking when your blood painted the stones beneath you?"

Back then, he'd thought it was nothing but a threat. But now he understood, it had been a cold promise. A man you would never sense until the steel was already sliding through your neck.

The roll of his head from his shoulder earlier, and the blood staining the floor beneath him, were vivid and undeniable in his fading moments.

His vision wavered, the edges darkening. Lucien hadn't moved an inch, yet to Gerard, the stillness around Lucien seemed to tighten, as if the air itself had grown colder. Frost began to creep up his head, slowly enveloping it in ice.

The cold sank into Gerard faster than the blood loss. His face went pale, replaced by a trembling slackness in his lips.

His mouth worked, the sound barely escaping. "Monster..."

Lucien said nothing. He simply watched, as if he were the last thing Gerard would ever see—because he was.

Gerard's head hardened under the ice, and then Lucien stomped down with his boot, shattering it like glass.

He then turned his gaze toward Adeline, slowly approaching. His bloodied sword was freezing over, shedding brittle shards of crimson as he slid it back into its sheath.

His hand curled into a fist, and the frost crept into Adeline's cursed bindings until they cracked apart, finally setting her free.

Light magic returned to her at once, mending her bruised and broken ribs. The last tingling waves of its healing lingered in her limbs, drawing a quiet sigh from her lips. She paused when she saw Lucien's offered hand, extended toward her.

Her own hand slowly reached out, fingers curling around his as he pulled her up and brought her back to her feet.

"Th... thank you for saving me, Your Grace," she mumbled, embarrassed to see herself in such a sorry state.

Lucien nodded in response, but his gaze drifted back to Gerard's headless corpse.

"I should be the one thanking you. You gave me a reason to kill him," he said calmly.

Adeline tensed slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. "How did you find me?"

Lucien's eyes dropped to the ring on her finger.

"That ring contains a magical trace to track you. That's why I asked you not to remove it." He then looked to his own ring, which glowed faintly. "Didn't know it might be useful someday," he added.

Adeline did not respond immediately. Her thoughts drifted, first to the fact that Lucien had known exactly where she was, and then to the possibility that her abduction might have led him to something else entirely. The absence of rushing footsteps or shouts, and the eerie stillness in the air, told her something.

"What happened to the cultists here?" she asked carefully.

Lucien didn't answer right away. His gaze alone was almost enough to answer her. "What matters now is that you're safe. Fortunately, they were just ordinary cultists, not ones close to the others like the dark priest."

From what he knew and sensed, the true core of their ranks had never been here. Rescuing these two should have been simple. Unless...

His mind flicked back to the past, to that dark figure who had choked him before Rose arrived to save him. His face went pale for a heartbeat before he forced it away, masking his expression once more.

No. I doubt it. Whoever that was back then, it wouldn't be here.

Adeline's voice cut into his thoughts.

"I might be bold to say this, Your Grace..." Her eyes narrowed faintly. "But you somehow guessed they'd abduct me. You let it happen so they could lead you here. Which means," a narrow smile, edged like a blade, curved across her lips, "you were just using me as bait."

"I did not say that," Lucien replied.

"But your actions are telling me, Your Grace," she accused.

Lucien paused, then he pressed his lips into a thin line before he spoke. "I saved your life in exchange for you leading me to their hideout. If you insist on calling it bait, then think of it as a bait worth taking."

Adeline didn't answer, but something else struck her. She turned sharply toward Melissa.

"Melissa!" She knelt, rolling the woman gently onto her back. Her fingers pressed to her neck, searching, then relief washed over her face. "She's still breathing," she murmured.

Without hesitation, Adeline cast a healing spell. The magic flared, knitting flesh and sealing the stab wound in seconds. 

I made it in time, she thought. Any longer and the blood loss would have been too much.

Melissa's breathing steadied, though she remained unconscious, her chest rising and falling. Adeline moved to lift her, only for a firm hand to stop her.

"I'll do it," Lucien said.

Adeline hesitated, then nodded.

Lucien crouched beside Melissa, sliding an arm under hers. He lifted her so her arm draped over his shoulders, his own arm wrapping around her back to keep her upright, his stance steady, bearing her weight with ease. Just like that, he started forward, guiding them both toward the way out, each step measured against the quiet of the empty hall.

As they reached the grand hallway, no trace of life remained. The air was heavy with the bite of frost, the ceiling and floor glazed in a thin layer of ice that crackled beneath their steps. Adeline's breath caught at the sight ahead, cultists lay strewn across the stone, their bodies frozen solid. Some were neatly decapitated, others lay in jagged pieces, the clean slices of a blade still rimed with frost. It was a grotesque display, but there was no doubt whose work it was.

She turned to Lucien, his expression unreadable, his steps were unhurried as if passing through nothing more than fallen snow. He gave the faintest shrug. "Keep Moving. We don't have much time before the other cultists realize what happened here."

Without another word, he took point, guiding them down the frost-covered corridor. Melissa leaned against him for support while Adeline followed close behind, the crunch of ice underfoot marking their steady path toward the exit.

════~❄~❖~❄~════

The noise of a distant cry and the clash of steel echoed from beyond the walls of Lucien's estate. In the bell tower, a high point of the manor, Evangeline watched the battle unfold. From her vantage, the knights and monsters looked as small as sesame seeds in the distance, yet to her shimmering eyes, every detail was clear.

Her chest ached with the memory of four hundred years ago, the Abyss War she had once witnessed from afar. She shook her head to banish the thought, but her mind drifted instead to her creator, and to the very first moment she had come into this world. The recollection stirred a strange flutter in her chest.

In the dark, she heard a feminine voice.

"Wake up, house wisp," Alysanne said softly. Evangeline's small body was curled into a ball, wrapped in a golden orb. The air around it swirled, drawn in by its pull.

For a minute, there was only silence. Alysanne waited, her hands holding the orb steady. Then, her expression cracked slightly; impatience flickered across her face as she muttered to herself, "Hmm... perhaps I missed something when I created her. I should have been more careful."

But then, Evangeline's body twitched. Her delicate wings fluttered once.

Alysanne's golden eyes widened, and she still waited. "Perhaps I didn't."

Evangeline's eyes opened slowly, luminous and without pupils, shining like light itself. The orb dissolved away, leaving her curled in midair. Her wings flapped again, her first true flight, as she hovered before the woman.

"Hmm... who are you?"

Alysanne's lips curved into an amused smile.

"My name is Alysanne Valenhart, and you are a fae, my first fae creation, to be exact. You will look after this estate and ring the bell when needed. One ring means trouble within the manor. Two means an intruder in my garden. Three means trouble in my town, Wintermere. You will do as I instruct."

The fae only nodded—then, unexpectedly, a sudden words slipped from her mouth. "I will not follow your instructions, Lady Alysanne," she said flatly, avoiding the woman's golden gaze.

Alysanne paused, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before her smile returned. "I created you with purpose. You will be one of my necessities, to watch over my home and my people, and to alert the proper authorities, such as myself, as protector of this realm. If you still wish to refuse, I will not stop you," she said softly, her gaze warm.

Hearing this, a playful smile touched Evangeline's lips. "Eh, Lady Alysanne, did you ever consider I was only joking?"

A beat of silence.

"You've grown bold enough to tease me when you've only just been created," Alysanne replied.

"Ehehe, perhaps that's your fault for making me this way," Evangeline giggled. "Since I'm to look after your beloved place, I'd like something in return."

"Name it," Alysanne said.

"I would like... a name. Give me a name."

Alysanne sighed, as though bracing herself for some grand demand, only to realize the request was simple.

"Then, from this moment on, house wisp, your name will be... Evangeline."

Breaking from her reverie, a voice called her name.

"Evangeline... Evangeline, are you alright?"

Near her stood Clara, wrapped in a green cloak, with Ivy perched on her shoulder, the little fox's paws clinging to her frame.

Evangeline turned, hovering closer. "Young lady, you shouldn't be here. All the servants are already hiding in the secret corridors, you should join them."

Clara tilted her head. "How did you know that?"

The fae hesitated, then sighed. "I can see every corner of this estate, my lady. I also saw the man with glasses managing them inside."

"Well, Uncle Quentin did say I should hide with them," Clara giggled, "but I snuck out anyway."

"There's a battle going on. You shouldn't have done that, this is no place for you to witness," Evangeline said sternly.

"But... I just felt like I had to help them."

"You're still too young for this. All we can do now is hope they can defend the estate."

Evangeline turned back toward the battlefield, her gaze narrowing on a distant point. "The monsters seem endless—slain, only to be replaced by wave after wave. This is bad. They'll soon overwhelm the knights and mages."

Clara followed her line of sight, brow furrowing. "Does that mean it will be over for us?"

Evangeline didn't answer right away. Her eyes shifted toward the woods. "The captain is in the woods, searching for something. I don't know who or what it is, but I can sense a strong, dark presence. I'm sure she has a reason."

"Miss Valerie is looking for something?" Clara asked.

"It seems so," Evangeline replied.

Clara thought for a moment, then her eyes lit with realization. "Evangeline, I think Miss Valerie has a plan. If the monsters keep coming, it means there is something she need to destroy, and they'll stop. I believe that's what she's after."

"But, my lady," Evangeline said, "if she fails and finds it too late, the monsters will have already ravaged the estate and slaughtered the knights."

Clara's eyes lit with urgency. "No. I have an idea. I need to get there, I need your help."

Evangeline shook her head at once. "If you think I'll let you wander into the woods to help the captain, you're mistaken. You're too young for this."

"But... but..." Clara faltered, her voice softening. She stared at the floor, words spilling out almost as a whisper. "This happened because of me. The cloaked woman hunted me in the woods. Without Miss Valerie's help... I wouldn't be standing here tonight."

Evangeline's expression tightened, but she said nothing.

Clara looked up again, her voice steady now. "I care for the people who serve my uncle, and for this realm. I want to help Miss Valerie. I don't want them to die because of me."

"You speak as if you can change the battle yourself," Evangeline said carefully.

"If I'm to be an heiress one day, then I should be a good example," Clara pressed on. "That's what my uncle would want, for me not to doubt my strength. Because he believes in me."

Her mind flashed to his warm hand ruffling her hair, the fond gesture she'd always cherished.

"I never doubted you."

The memory seemed to linger between them. Evangeline studied her for a long moment, then sighed in defeat.

"You sound like Lady Alysanne just now," she murmured.

"Pardon?" Clara tilted her head.

Evangeline's lips curved faintly. "Alright, if that is your plan, my lady." She lifted her hand, light blooming from her palm. "I will do this only once. If you fail, I won't be able to help you from a distance."

She extended her glowing hand toward Clara. "Take it. I'll send you to the captain and help you find the monster."

Clara's face lit up, and without hesitation she clasped Evangeline's small hand.

The light around their joined hands flared, swallowing the cold stone of the bell tower in a rush of gold. For an instant, Clara felt weightless, her cloak snapping in an unseen wind as Ivy's paws clung tightly to her shoulder. Then the brilliance shattered, and she stumbled onto damp earth beneath towering trees.

 ═══~❄~❖~❄~════

In the darkened hall of the unknown fortress, Lucien strode forward, Melissa's arm slung over his shoulder. His pace quickened as the wind outside billowed through the night.

"Almost there. Hang on a little longer," he said to Melissa, who only managed a weak nod, half-conscious.

Adeline followed close behind, her gaze darting through the shadows, searching for any sign of pursuit, but she sensed no presence lurking.

At last, they reached the exit. Lucien slowed his pace. "This should be far enough. I can bring you all back to the estate with the Oracle."

He fumbled in his pocket and drew out an emerald orb. Its surface pulsed with light as his thoughts churned.

I hope Valerie will respond... and open the portal with the other half of the Oracle.

The orb brightened. Lucien tossed it into the air, where it spun and burst into a circular ring of light. A portal shimmered into existence, humming softly, almost like breath.

Without another word, he stepped forward toward it, and Adeline moved to follow.

But the sudden whisper of a blade cut through the air.

Lucien felt the deadly presence before he saw it. His eyes widened. Instinct took over as he shoved Melissa's body straight into the portal. She vanished into the light, just as his free arm shot out to bar Adeline's path.

The portal snapped shut behind Melissa. Only Lucien and Adeline remained. The blade's passing gust tore through the air, so close it almost severed the hem of Lucien's cape.

Lucien turned sharply, searching for the source of the attack.

On the fortress roof, three figures stood. The first, a woman cloaked in black, grinned down at them. Beside her loomed a figure in black robes, his face was lost in shadow. But it was the third who froze them in place, a towering presence steeped in suffocating dark magic that pressed against the air.

Moonlight slid across the figure, revealing hair so white it seemed ghostly, and eyes of cold, burning yellow.

Adeline's breath caught. Her mind scrambled to match the sight before her with old tales, whispers she'd once heard in half-forgotten myths. White hair like frost. A dark magic that was so thick it could smother the sky.

Her lips parted, the words almost slipping out against her will.

"A... A Dark Lord."