The attempt came at the quietest hour.
Not during council.
Not during training.
Not beneath the watchful eyes of the Ice Emperor.
It came when the palace believed itself safe.
Serenya sensed it a heartbeat before it happened.
A sharp pull flared beneath her ribs—wrong, cold in a way winter was not. Her crescent mark burned violently, and she gasped, twisting just as the air behind her split.
Steel screamed as it tore through space.
The blade missed her throat by inches, slicing instead through her cloak and embedding itself in the ice wall with a violent crack. Frost exploded outward, shards scattering like shattered glass.
"Down!"
Vael's voice thundered through the corridor.
Serenya dropped instinctively as the temperature plummeted. The air froze mid-motion, snow crystallizing into deadly stillness. A shadowed figure landed where she had stood, boots skidding across ice that obeyed no one but its emperor.
The assassin did not flee.
They smiled.
"You feel it too," the figure rasped through a mask etched with runes. "The seal's breath. It sings to her."
Vael moved.
He did not draw a weapon. He did not speak.
The corridor itself rose.
Ice spears erupted from the floor, pinning the assassin in place before they could blink. The pressure was absolute, crushing, yet Vael's expression remained eerily calm as he stepped forward.
"Who sent you?" he asked.
The assassin laughed—and blood spilled from beneath the mask as frost crept across their veins. "Everyone."
Serenya pushed herself upright, ignoring the tremor in her hands. The whispers were loud now, frantic.
Danger. Blood. Choice.
"Vael," she said urgently. "They're not here to kill me."
His gaze sharpened. "Explain."
"They're here to test if I'll react."
As if on cue, the assassin convulsed—and the runes carved into their mask flared. The ice binding them cracked violently.
A sacrificial seal.
Vael swore.
The assassin's body shattered into frozen fragments, collapsing inward as the seal devoured them whole. Not even ash remained—only frost, settling quietly against the palace floor.
Silence followed.
Serenya stared at the empty space, heart pounding. "They didn't care if they survived."
"No," Vael said coldly. "They cared if you revealed yourself."
She wrapped her arms around herself. "And did I?"
He turned to her slowly. "No."
"But you almost did," he continued. "The ice answered your fear."
Her breath caught. "I didn't mean to—"
"I know," he said, stepping closer. "That is why this is dangerous."
By dawn, the palace was sealed.
No one entered. No one left.
The High Council gathered in the Frostbound Chamber, their expressions grave. Ancient banners hung motionless, heavy with history.
"This assassin breached inner wards," one elder said. "That should not be possible."
Vael stood at the center of the chamber, Serenya at his side.
"It was possible," Vael replied, "because someone opened them."
The temperature dropped.
Murmurs rippled through the council.
Serenya felt it then—a sharp glance, heavy with intent. She turned, meeting the eyes of Lord Kaelreth, Master of Archives. His expression was calm, but his aura was… restless.
"You accuse one of us?" he asked.
"I state a fact," Vael said. "The palace recognized the intruder as permitted."
Kaelreth smiled thinly. "Or perhaps the palace now answers to someone else."
The words cut deeper than steel.
Serenya stiffened.
Vael's gaze hardened to ice. "Choose your next words carefully."
Kaelreth inclined his head. "Forgive me. But uncertainty breeds fear. The seal has always obeyed the emperor. Now it listens to a bearer who was never trained, never tested."
Serenya opened her mouth—but Vael spoke first.
"She was chosen."
"By what?" Kaelreth pressed. "Ice? Fate? Or something beneath the seal that longs to be free?"
The whispers surged angrily.
Serenya's mark flared.
The chamber shuddered.
Every council member froze as frost spiraled upward, forming intricate sigils across the ceiling—symbols older than the empire itself.
Serenya gasped, clutching her wrist. "I didn't—"
Vael moved instantly, placing himself between her and the council. His hand closed around hers, firm and grounding.
"Enough," he commanded.
The ice obeyed.
The sigils faded.
No one spoke.
Vael's voice carried absolute authority. "Any further doubt will be considered treason."
The council bowed.
Even Kaelreth.
That night, Serenya stood alone in the winter garden, breath fogging softly as moonlight bathed the frozen trees. Her hands trembled despite the calm air.
"I never wanted this," she whispered.
Vael approached quietly, stopping a respectful distance away. "None of us do."
"I'm becoming something," she said. "And everyone sees it."
"Yes," he replied. "Including those who wish to use you."
She turned to face him. "And you?"
His answer was immediate. "I wish to protect you."
Her voice broke. "Even if it costs you everything?"
Vael stepped closer, close enough that the cold between them softened. "Especially then."
The winter garden responded—frost blooming into delicate crystalline flowers, glowing faintly blue.
Serenya stared. "It does that when you're near."
Vael looked away. "It does not approve."
She laughed softly through her fear. "It approves of us."
He met her gaze again, something raw flickering behind his control. "That may be the most dangerous thing of all."
She reached for his hand.
This time, he did not hesitate.
Their fingers intertwined.
The ice did not crack.
It warmed.
Far beyond the Ice Domain, a hidden figure lowered a scrying mirror, lips curling into a satisfied smile.
"So," they murmured. "The bearer bleeds."
Winter had drawn blood.
And the hunt had truly begun.