A faint whisper, like the rustling of branches in the wind, was the first thing he sensed. Then, the pressure on his forehead. It wasn't silk. It wasn't softness or luxury. It was… a damp leaf.
Frost Delgard slowly opened his eyes. The ceiling was old wood, with uneven beams that creaked softly with every change of the wind.
The smell was earthy, strong… medicine, herbs… dust. No marble, no columns, no crystal lamps. Barely any natural light came in through a window that showed a cloudy sky.
He was lying on a wooden stretcher, covered with worn-out rags. A cold cloth rested on his forehead, right where he had hit himself.
He sat up slowly, feeling a slight dizziness. He looked around. Bottles, potions, hanging roots, bandages… everything indicated this place was a healing refuge—rudimentary but useful.
—Where am I? —he whispered, caught between confusion and discomfort—. This isn't the castle…
He stood up, staggering, and walked toward the door of the room. The mess was evident, almost insulting to his aristocratic sensibilities.
—That girl… She must've brought me here —he muttered, recalling the icy gaze and silver hair before fainting.
As he entered what seemed to be the main room, he frowned.
—They could at least clean this pigsty a bit… how barbaric —he grumbled, crossing his arms.
The door burst open. The wind blew the curtains. A tanned man, sweaty, wearing work clothes and a straw hat, entered in a rush. Frost flinched.
—Finally, someone has arrived! —he exclaimed in an authoritative tone.
—You've finally woken up —the man said with a relieved smile, walking over to check the bandage on his forehead.
Frost recoiled, indignant.
—Hey, hey! Did you wash your hands before touching me?
The man laughed with a disconcerting calm.
—You're definitely fine.
—Says a peasant —Frost muttered through clenched teeth.
He glanced around again and frowned in confusion.
—Is this your house? I don't recall being saved by a man… Where's the girl with silver hair?
The man crossed his arms, smiling.
—You mean Lorraine? She's the one who saved you from the monster. But since you were quite heavy, she called me to help bring your body here.
Frost's mind replayed that moment before unconsciousness: a flame igniting in the girl's palm… an unforgettable spark.
A fireball…? Could she be… a witch?
Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, a figure appeared at the door, stepping in swiftly.
—Mr. Elliott, I'm back —she said firmly.
Frost recognized her instantly. The girl took off her hood, revealing her beautiful silver hair, gleaming under the sunlight, with a single braided strand framing her calm face. Her eyes, a bright sky blue, contrasted with the indifferent expression on her lips, moist from the morning breeze.
For a moment, time stood still. Frost felt his heart pounding, as if it wanted to leap from his chest. He was… captivated.
—Hey… you still there? —Lorraine asked, snapping her fingers in front of him.
Frost blinked, snapping out of his trance, and quickly returned to his arrogance.
—Who do you think you are to treat me like this?! Don't you know who I am?
Lorraine, without even looking at him, replied directly:
—I don't care who you are. If you're feeling better, I suggest you leave. They're probably worried about you.
She placed the basket on a shelf, paying him no further attention. Elliott, caught in the middle, gulped.
—So cold… —he muttered.
—Hey, you! Foolish peasant! How dare you speak to your prince like that? I, Frost Delgard, heir to the throne! Do you know I could have you burned for this?
Elliott scratched his head, nervous.
—Your Highness, please… no need to go that far…
Lorraine sighed.
—Hmm… I already said: I don't care who you are. And those threats… I'm used to them. Your sword's over there —she gestured with her head toward a corner among old jars and coal.
Frost ran over in a panic.
—My baby! How dare you put her there?! Look how dirty she is, damn peasants!
Lorraine watched him, expressionless.
—Unbelievable… one of those rich kids with sissy attitudes…
Frost turned, furious.
—WHAT DID YOU CALL ME, WITCH?!?!
—I think you both need to calm down! —Elliott interrupted, raising both hands.
Minutes later, Frost was walking with Elliott down a dusty path toward the village. The still-cloudy sky seemed trapped in eternal melancholy.
—That peasant… is she your daughter?
Elliott glanced sideways at him.
—Prince, you could at least call her by her name. And no, she's not my daughter… but she's like one to me.
—Then you should raise her better, even if she's not yours. What about her parents?
Elliott looked down.
—I don't really know. She told me they disappeared… in a dimensional rift, category Shiketsu. She was just a child. But the village, out of respect for her parents, took care of her as she grew up.
—An orphan, huh? —Frost reflected—. And you? What's your relationship with her?
—If you want to know more, just ask. I'm new to this world. I've only been here nine months. Lorraine saved me. Gave me shelter, food… expecting nothing in return. Until I can return to my world.
Frost raised an eyebrow.
—Interesting… A peasant from another world, and an orphan witch. This world never stops being exotic…
Then, pretending indifference, he muttered:
—But I appreciate their… "noble duty" in saving me from that monster. Though, of course, it didn't defeat me… just distracted me.
Elliott smiled.
—If you say so, prince…
As they neared the rendezvous point, Elliott lowered his voice:
—Prince… you saw Lorraine use magic. I beg you, keep that secret. This village… fears her. They hold resentment. Please, let it stay here.
Frost stopped. He looked at him silently. Then, with haughty composure, said:
—I am the future king. And I order that this secret… is mine alone.
Elliott smiled calmly. He knew Frost wouldn't betray him.
In the distance, Fred ran up to meet Frost, relieved. Elliott stayed behind, watching the group walk away.
—Lorraine… I think someone's taken an interest in you —he whispered.
Days later, in the castle courtyard, wooden swords clashed violently. Fred struck with strength. Frost, however, was distracted… very distracted. Lorraine's face appeared in his mind again and again—her hair, her voice, her eyes…
—Ahhh! —Frost fell to the ground after a sharp blow to the stomach.
—Ouch… that hurt…
Fred offered his hand.
—Prince… I think you should stop swimming in your thoughts.
—I know, Fred, you don't have to tell me…
—So? What's got you like this since you got back from that village? Anything I should know?
Frost blushed, looking away.
—Nothing… mind your own business…
That night, lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling decorated with gold and crystal, he whispered:
—Lorraine… I want to see you again…
The next morning, at the royal breakfast table, Frost was eating with his father, King Delgard, and his sister, Liliana.
—Thanks for the meal. Goodbye —he suddenly said, bowing and running out.
They both looked at him in surprise.
—Frost's been acting really weird lately… —commented the king.
Liliana looked at him curiously.
—Could he be in love?
The rain had finally ceased. The clouds slowly drifted away, as if the sky itself breathed in relief. Frost rode forward along the muddy path, the hooves of his horse striking the damp earth with a steady rhythm.
As he made his way through the tall, lush trees of the forest, a glint of determination shone in his ice-blue eyes.
—If another monster comes… this time, I won't get distracted again —he muttered with restrained anger, gripping the reins tightly. His voice was filled with resolve, but also with a deeper desire he didn't yet fully understand.
The path eventually led him to the open lands surrounding Elmyra, a humble village nestled among hills and golden fields.
The sunlight illuminated the wooden houses that stretched into the distance, with smoking chimneys and simple gardens full of wildflowers. It was a landscape so different from the magnificence of the castle… and yet, it felt warm, welcoming, real.
As he rode along the main road, the villagers looked at him with surprise and a touch of unease. The luxurious outfit he wore —a scarlet cloak with golden edges and a fine linen shirt— revealed his royal lineage. Some lowered their gaze, others discreetly stepped away. Frost paid them no mind. He had only one destination in mind.
After searching among the houses for a while, he finally stopped in front of one in particular: small, aged wood, with a lantern hanging by the door and blue flowers in the windows.
This was the place. His heart pounded, and for a second, he hesitated. But then he dismounted, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.
To his surprise, it wasn't Lorraine who answered, but a young man with light brown hair and a kind look.
—It can't be… you, peasant? —Frost exclaimed, frowning.
Elliott let out a light laugh, as if tension had no place in his spirit.
—Prince… it's you. I never imagined you'd come here. What brings you among us?
Frost looked down, avoiding a sincere answer.
—I just came to… learn a few things from you.
Elliott raised an eyebrow, curious.
—Learn from us? Why would an honorable prince like you want to learn anything from peasants?
Frost tried to maintain composure.
—Well… I want to learn more about magic.
Elliott stared at him and smiled mischievously.
—You're not a good liar, are you? You came to see Lorraine.
Frost blushed, annoyed.
—I… I… that's not true! I order you to be quiet!
But Elliott simply laughed, stepping out into the sunlight. He turned his face toward the prince and said:
—Come, prince. I'll take you.
They walked together along the village paths, while people watched them from the corners of their eyes. Frost felt out of place, but at the same time, something about this world fascinated him. The crop fields, the children running, the smell of freshly baked bread… it was life without masks.
Eventually, they reached a hill covered in tall grass, and in the distance, like a living painting, stood Lorraine. Her silver hair glowed in the sunlight.
She wore a sky-blue blouse and held a wand, launching bursts of water, manipulating mana with fierce intensity. She was beautiful… and powerful.
—Well, here she is —said Elliott—. I'll leave you. I've got chores to finish.
Frost walked through the grass, but tripped and rolled down the hill… landing right on top of Lorraine.
—You again! —she exclaimed, pushing him off.
Frost got up, brushing off the dust.
—You could at least greet me a little less coldly, don't you think?
—What do you want? —asked Lorraine, crossing her arms.
—Well… since you're a witch… —he tried to say.
—And you want to report me to the church so they can burn me? —she interrupted coldly.
—That's not what I meant! —he protested—. I just want you to teach me magic…
Lorraine looked at him, surprised.
—What kind of nonsense is this? Are you trying to mess with me?
—I'm serious! I've always wanted to learn magic… even if it doesn't look like it. Just like my mother…
There was a brief silence.
—You're the best choice to teach me —he added, lowering his voice.
Lorraine sighed with resignation, but her eyes showed a spark of interest.
—Elliott… look at what you got me into —she murmured, then raised her eyes to the prince—. Very well… I'll teach you.
Frost tried to contain his excitement.
—Really?
—But wait —added Lorraine, amused—. If I'm going to teach you, you'll be my apprentice. And being my apprentice means you'll follow all my orders while you're here.
—Excuse me? That won't be possible, miss —said Frost, haughtily.
But before he could finish the sentence, Lorraine jumped on his back with a mischievous smile.
—That wasn't a question. You're going to follow my orders… whether you like it or not, apprentice. Now, carry me up the hill.
—I can't believe this! —murmured Frost as he walked carrying her—. I'll have you burned, witch…
When they reached the top, Frost collapsed under a large tree, the fresh breeze brushing their faces.
—I can't believe it… I actually carried her all the way here…
—So strong supposedly, and you can't even carry a lady? —teased Lorraine, eyes closed.
—You're heavy! That doesn't mean I'm weak…
—Yeah, yeah… apprentice.
At that moment, a scream tore through the air. A monstrous figure was flying toward them in fury.
—A gargoyle! —Frost shouted, jumping up.
—Behind me! —Lorraine ordered.
She launched fireballs into the air with her wand, but the creature resisted. The gargoyle descended like lightning, slamming her against the tree.
Frost drew his sword. As the creature lunged at Lorraine, he spun with force and sliced off its head with a precise strike. Blood splattered, falling on the witch, who remained silent, stunned.
—Ugh… that was my favorite blouse!
Frost smirked proudly.
—What were you saying, little witch? Wasn't I so weak?
—It's called thank you —said Frost, boasting arrogantly.
Lorraine pursed her lips, formed a sphere of water, and splashed it right in his face.
—Why did you do that?!
—We're even… apprentice.
The gray clouds still hung in the sky, as if the world itself refused to forget what had happened. The raindrops had stopped falling, but the ground was still wet, and the air was filled with that scent of wet earth that signals the end of one chapter and the birth of another.
It was then that Frost Delgard and Lorraine Velkhart returned to the village.
Elliott saw them from a distance. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the scene: Frost, soaked from head to toe, his silver hair clinging to his face, and Lorraine, her white blouse stained with blood, yet walking calmly, as if nothing had disturbed her.
—It's a long story —Frost said in a low but firm voice, not stopping at Elliott's expression of astonishment.
They soon entered the house. Minutes later, as if time had skipped ahead, Lorraine was already changed, now wearing a black blouse with fine red stripes that fit her slender figure perfectly.
Frost, on the other hand, was impeccably dry. Elliott's thermal magic had restored his outfit to its usual elegance. The young fire mage crossed his arms and let out a sigh as he looked at them.
—Next time... be more careful.
—Don't tell me what to do, peasant —Frost snapped arrogantly, shaking his hair.
Lorraine laughed softly and replied:
—Don't be mad about it, peasant. —She gave Elliott an amused look, and he simply shook his head.
They both left the village. The streets were quiet, and a gentle night breeze caressed the lit oil lanterns.
The voices faded into the distance as Frost and Lorraine walked toward the outskirts, under the moonlight.
In that silence, Lorraine spoke, almost with childlike curiosity.
—A question, apprentice...
—I'm getting tired of that nickname —Frost grumbled.
—...but go on —he added, resigned.
—You told me you wanted to learn magic, like your mother... That means she was a witch, right?
Frost's steps halted for a moment. His gaze grew clouded. When he spoke, it was with a mixture of anger and suppressed pain.
—Yes. My mother was a witch… though I found that out on my own. No one knew... not even my twin sister, Liliana.
Silence fell, and Frost continued:
—Until one day… my father found out. He discovered it in the worst way. And with hatred, with resentment in his eyes... he didn't care that she was his wife, nor his queen... —Frost's voice cracked slightly—. He ordered her execution.
In his mind, the image returned, buried deep within his soul: the crackling of the pyre, his mother's screams as the flames consumed her, the impassive soldiers... and himself, a child, unable to move.
Mom…?
Lorraine clenched her fists. Empathy shone in her eyes as she spoke in a low tone:
—I'm really sorry, Frost… what your father did was horrible...
Frost looked away, swallowing the pain like one swallows a blade.
—It's fine... I've forgotten. These are the rules of this world, right? Magic is forbidden...
Lorraine shook her head, looking at him seriously.
—Then if it's forbidden… why do you want to learn it? Isn't that a contradiction?
Frost didn't know what to say at first. Lorraine stepped forward, her words flowing like water breaking through a dam.
—The magic you people fear… it's not what you think. It's not an act against God. That's just ignorance. Magic is another manifestation of God Himself. Thanks to Him… magic exists.
She stopped. Her voice took on a deeper tone.
—Humans fear what they don't understand... and yet, they move forward with curiosity toward the unknown. They fear the abyss, but they wish to cross it. So… tell me, Frost. Why do you want to learn magic?
Frost looked up at the sky. Silence stretched out. The young man responded with a thread of sincerity he hadn't expected to bring forth.
—I don't know... or maybe I do. Maybe I want to break away from the rules… leave this cave I live in. I want to break the chains, fly, disappear… and keep seeing you… keep appreciating you.
Lorraine blushed. Her cheeks turned slightly red as she looked down.
—Me…?
Frost choked on his own words.
—No! I didn't mean it like that. I mean… not in the way you think I meant... Forget it, just forget it...
Lorraine smiled teasingly, amused.
—Now I get it… my apprentice has strange tastes...
Already at the outskirts, near the road that led to the Kingdom, Frost said goodbye.
—See you tomorrow…?
Lorraine nodded, walking toward the distant mist.
—Just don't be late for your first lesson, apprentice...
Meanwhile, in the castle, Frost walked through the long carpeted hallways, the torches lighting the stained-glass windows with soft reflections. Upon arrival, his sister Liliana awaited him at the entrance to his room.
—Where were you, Frost? Dad was looking for you.
—I was… training —he replied coldly, without looking at her. He opened the door and went inside.
He closed it gently. And let himself fall onto the bed. For the first time in a long while, a sincere smile spread across his face. He had spent the day with Lorraine. That to him… was gold.
He looked at the book in his hands, an ancient treatise on elemental magic. And he murmured, almost in a whisper:
—Tomorrow I'll see her again… my Lorraine.
But beyond time, beyond space and earthly realms… the eyes of the abyss opened. In a place where galaxies were bubbles and worlds mere flickering lights, a pair of cosmic draconic eyes watched the All.
Hanimesh, the primordial dragon, spoke with a voice without sound, with a thought that vibrated across multiverses:
—There… there will be the next bearer of the Chi Tae. Go, and deliver the message...
A colossal beast, a dragon with bluish scales and claws like mountains, replied:
—Yes, my lord...
And though its body was monstrous, it was barely a shadow compared to the unfathomable size of Hanimesh, whose true form vanished among the nebulae beyond.
With a frozen flash and a roar that tore reality, the messenger dragon vanished…
In the human world… the mountains trembled.
And in the quiet night, in the village, Elliott read beneath the soft glow of a candle, with his small owl Guilo on his shoulder. A cold breeze passed through the open window.
—It's colder than usual… —he whispered, closing his book.
Meanwhile, Frost slept, clinging to his book like a cherished memory. On his right hand… a glowing snowflake-shaped mark appeared for the first time. It flickered… and shone.