The sled carved a path through the frost.
Pulled by silent hounds, heated by engine coils, it glided across the barren north. Karl sat at the helm, one hand on the reins, the other cradling a cloth-wrapped bundle against his chest.
Lia's body lay light in his arms.
Too light.
As if she had already become part of the wind.
---
White Rose was no longer a village.
Just a hollow garden of broken arches and charred stone.
Snow piled in corners where healing herbs once bloomed. Ash still clung to the roots of petrified trees.
He stepped out alone, boots sinking into silence.
He carried her past the ruined fountain, past the stable where she first pressed her hands to his broken heart.
He reached the very place where the fire had swallowed them both in different ways.
And knelt.
Care
