Iowyn
The milk hardened to crystal within seconds of Savannah's disappearance beneath its surface. No gradual transformation this time—one moment liquid, the next solid as Winter's heart. White turned to blue-white, then to something deeper, more profound—a translucence that reminded me of the ancient ice at the deepest part of my realm, formed before time itself had settled into predictable patterns.
"Impossible," my father murmured, running his fingers over the crystallized surface. "The milk has never..."
"Something's happening." I pressed my palm flat against the cool crystal. Frost patterns spread from my fingertips, seeking connection, sensing. The energy beneath was... changing. Transforming. "They're still alive."
Iolanthe paced the edge of the pool, her wings flared with agita
