The wind howled like a forgotten lullaby as Selena stood at the border of the Frostlands, the divine child nestled in her arms, his breath steaming softly against her collarbone. Snow swirled in haunted patterns around her feet, parting in recognition. The land itself remembered her bloodline.
But the gates did not.
The crystalline doors of Aetherhold, the last stronghold of the Ice Kingdom, loomed ahead. Frost-veined runes glimmered across their surface, ancient and stubborn. They would not open without permission.
Dante moved beside her, the embers in his irises muted but ever burning. "We shouldn't have come without warning."
Selena looked up at the frozen sky. "There's no time for diplomacy. If she still remembers me, she'll listen."
