Winter was getting colder and colder at Castle Valdren in full force.
The snow had not come gently; it had swept over the rooftops and battlements overnight, leaving the world beneath a thick, unbroken quilt of white.
The gardens that once blazed with color—deep reds, bright yellows, lush greens—now lay buried beneath the cold.
Even the fountains had frozen solid.
Their water had turned to still, clear glass, capturing the pale light of the gray sky.
The air smelled of frost and wet stone.
The only sounds were the distant crack of ice and the muffled footfalls of servants moving through the corridors.
Silent.
Dead.
Prince Aldric stood at the window of his chambers, watching the slow dance of snowflakes as they drifted from the heavens.
His breath fogged the glass. His finger
