The snow had just begun to fall again when Arasha and her company arrived at the North Capital, the great stone walls of the city bathed in pale winter light. Horns sounded as they approached, and the gates swung open, revealing the cobbled streets lined with awaiting townsfolk, their cheers muffled by scarves and winter coats. Word of their victory had spread fast, carried on the breath of wind and grateful messengers.
The Scion Order rode behind their commander with quiet pride, their battered armor gleaming beneath the frost. Arasha herself rode at the front, her hair tied back and cloak dusted with snow, the fatigue behind her calm expression hidden beneath a familiar mantle of discipline.
As they entered Duke Lionel's estate, the gates swung open not just to welcome knights—but returning friends.
"Big Sister Arasha!" a voice called out just as she dismounted.
She turned, eyebrows raising in surprise.
Two boys bounded across the stone pathway toward her, one a fair-haired youth of around Kane's age, tall for his years, with a wooden practice sword slung over his back. The younger was perhaps seven, with fiery auburn hair and a toothy grin that shone like a sunrise. They wore tunics with the crest of House Frostbearers, and their boots were dusted with snow.
The older boy skidded to a stop before her, breathing heavily, eyes shining. "You're back! Father said you'd stay at the mansion while you recovered! Will you spar with me again? You promised last time!"
Arasha blinked, caught off guard, then smiled. "You're taller than I remember. I might be too old for you now, Lucian."
The boy huffed, grinning. "You're just saying that because I beat my instructor!"
Arasha laughed just as Lucian tackled her in a hug. She caught him with one arm, steadying him easily despite the weight of her armor. The younger one, Levi, hugged her leg with bright eyes.
In that moment, something in her chest loosened.
The frigid wind of the battlefield melted into warmth. For the first time in many moons, she let herself feel—not as a commander, not as a knight, but simply as Arasha, daughter of Arrius, friend of Lionel, welcomed by his family.
She knelt, ruffling Levi's hair and tapping Lucian's forehead lightly with her finger. "You'll have to show me your moves later. But only after I've had one of your father's famous stews."
From the mansion steps, Duke Lionel watched, his arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face. "I hope you still like venison and bitterroot."
Arasha gave a mock salute. "More than battlefield rations, my lord."
****
As evening approached and Arasha was ushered into a warm chamber filled with crackling fires, blankets, and the smell of roasted herbs, Linalee and Sir Garran took a different path—through the courtyard gardens toward the quiet observatory wing of the mansion.
Snow fell in soft silence around them, only the sound of their boots crunching beneath the weight of thought.
Linalee spoke first, brushing a strand of white-silver hair behind her ear. "She's changed."
"She always does after every campaign," Garran said simply, though the frown on his face betrayed deeper concern.
"No." Linalee stopped beside a marble bench, her breath forming a pale cloud. "This time… it's not just change. It's like something is rewriting around her."
Garran narrowed his eyes. "You mean like fate?"
"I mean like something's pushing her along a thread that's being spliced," Linalee replied quietly. "Her presence in that battle vanished for less than a second. That's not a magical displacement. That's a temporal fracture."
She looked at Garran seriously.
"And not one of our making."
Garran folded his arms, gaze distant. "You think someone—something—is interfering with her?"
"I don't know yet. That's why I'm staying here." Linalee turned her gaze northward, toward the far ridge where the ice cave lay hidden beneath layers of snow and magic. "There's something old buried in that cave. Something ancient enough to twist time and space. I need to uncover what that dragon was protecting—or waiting for."
Garran nodded slowly. "Should we tell her?"
"Not yet," Linalee murmured. "Let her breathe. Let her feel warmth again. The burden she already bears is enough."
She smiled faintly. "Besides, she's surrounded by people who would move mountains for her. That should buy us time."
****
The morning sun bathed the snowy courtyard in golden warmth, the icicles dripping gently from the eaves of the Duke's manor. Arasha stood across from young Lucian, who gripped his training sword with a determined expression, sweat already beading his brow despite the chill.
"Alright," she said with a smirk, circling lightly on her feet. "Show me what all those lessons amounted to."
Lucian didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, attacking with youthful energy and surprising precision. Arasha parried effortlessly but let him push the pace. She didn't overcorrect his stances—just deflected and countered gently, watching his movements with a mix of amusement and genuine interest.
Levi cheered loudly from the sidelines, bundled in a fur cloak too big for him, hopping with every successful move Lucian made. "Get her, Big Brother! You almost got her last time!"
Arasha let out a mock gasp when Lucian managed to tap her side.
"Oh no," she said, stumbling theatrically back. "I've been defeated! What a fearsome knight."
Lucian beamed, puffing out his chest proudly. "You didn't go easy on me, did you?"
Arasha laughed, ruffling his hair. "Of course not. You just might be the next Commander if you keep this up."
"Promise?" he asked brightly.
She knelt, voice soft but sure. "I promise. And when you are, you'll protect those around you even better than I do."
****
That afternoon, the children insisted that she play hide and seek with them in the Duke's expansive winter gardens. At first, Arasha had tried to protest.
"I'm too old for this," she said.
But when Levi gave her a very serious pout and Lucian tugged her wrist insistently, she sighed in mock defeat. "Fine. But if I freeze in the snow, you'll have to explain it to Leta."
Laughter rang through the gardens as they chased each other around hedges and ducked behind frost-covered statues. Arasha hadn't laughed that freely in so long, she forgot the sound of her own joy. For a few hours, she wasn't a commander, a symbol, or a martyr-in-waiting—just a guest, a friend, a guardian of warmth.
****
As dusk fell and a fire crackled quietly in the guest chamber, Arasha finally allowed herself a moment alone, shedding her cloak and sitting by the hearth with a mug of warm cider.
Then, her personal sigil communicator—an arcane device keyed to only a few trusted individuals—lit up with a soft, violet glow.
She pressed her finger to the gem, and the flickering projection of Leta appeared, looking surprisingly… not alarmed, but frazzled.
"No emergency," Leta said quickly, holding up a hand. "Before you panic."
Arasha blinked, sitting straighter. "Then why the call?"
Leta sighed and crossed her arms. "It's Kane. He's been… odd. Restless, distracted. He found out you left for the North without telling him and he's been brooding since. Walks around like a kicked puppy."
Arasha tilted her head, confused. "I left him with you and the senior knights. I didn't think—he's capable enough without me hovering."
Leta raised an eyebrow. "He doesn't see it that way. You should've seen his face. I thought he was going to break into the stables and charge north himself."
Arasha opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I… didn't think he'd be that upset."
"Well, apparently he has a severe case of 'commander withdrawal.'" Leta grinned. "I swear, he sulked so hard I almost put him in the infirmary just to keep an eye on him."
Leta sighed, rubbing her forehead. "We'll be back in a week or so. Maybe that'll cheer him up."
"Let's hope," Leta said, then softened. "He looks up to you more than you realize. Take care on the way back, alright?"
Arasha nodded. "Thank you. For looking out for him."
The projection faded, and the communicator dimmed. Arasha sat in the silence, mug in hand, the fire casting shadows on the wall.
She thought of Kane—bright, determined, and far too young to carry the burdens he seemed to hold in secret. A smile tugged at her lips, faint and unsure.
"Guess I need to learn how to say goodbye better," she murmured to herself.
Just then, a soft knock came at her door.
"Big Sister?" It was Lucian, voice drowsy. "Levi fell asleep on my arm. Can you help me carry him?"
Arasha rose, setting the mug aside. "Of course."
As she stepped into the hallway, the quiet warmth of the mansion wrapped around her again. A temporary peace… but one she knew couldn't last.
****
The carriage stood waiting at the front of Duke Lionel's manor, its emblem of the Scion Order gleaming in the pale morning sun. Snow had begun to fall again—soft, swirling flakes that muted sound and made the world feel smaller, quieter.
Arasha stood at the steps of the manor, wrapped in her traveling cloak, her armor packed and secured on her steed. The northern air was crisp, biting gently at her cheeks, but she welcomed it. It kept her sharp. Focused.
She needed that.
A loud shuffle and sudden footsteps broke the silence.
"No!" cried Levi, bounding toward her with his little boots, leaving perfect prints in the snow. "You can't go! You promised to play with us again!"
Lucian followed quickly, his face more composed, but his eyes filled with the stubborn glint of a boy who rarely accepted things as final. "You could stay another day, Big Sister. Or even better—just move here."
Arasha smiled, kneeling to Levi's level and ruffling his soft, thick hair. "I wish I could. But there are many who need our help back home. If I stayed too long… my knights might come charging here thinking I was kidnapped."
Levi pouted, clearly not convinced.
Lucian, arms crossed, added, "Then at least promise to write. You're terrible at keeping in touch."
"I will. I swear," she said, holding up her hand with the three-fingered oath they had made in secret the night before.
Behind the boys, Duke Lionel stood with his arms folded, looking on with the subtle pride and irritation of a man who had lost one more reason to believe peace could last. As Arasha approached to bid him farewell, he pulled her into a sudden embrace.
"You're welcome here anytime, Arasha," he said gruffly. "This house—my house—is your home too, if you ever need one."
She was still for a second in his arms, then stepped back, her gaze soft. "Thank you, Uncle."
His expression twisted with a flash of bitterness. "Shameless king. Sends you on suicide missions, drains you dry, and doesn't lift a finger to properly support the Scion Order. If your father were still alive, he'd have ripped that court of fools apart."
Arasha offered no rebuttal. Only a tired, grateful smile. "We do what must be done. We all carry something."
He grunted but said no more, eyes burning with the silent fury of a man who once served the crown but now saw what it had become.
****
As the carriage moved slowly through the snowy trails away from the manor, Arasha watched the retreating figures of Lucian and Levi waving wildly in the falling snow. Her heart tugged, briefly. But her resolve did not waver.
The road back to the fortress was long, and her thoughts were heavier than usual.
She wondered how Kane was faring. If he'd calmed down.
If he was angry at her for leaving without saying a word.
She hoped not.
She sighed.
He had a fire in him that the world tried so hard to extinguish. That spark…
She didn't know why but she knew it's her duty to keep it safe and she couldn't afford to lose it.
****
Meanwhile, within the quiet halls of the Duke's archives beneath the estate, Linalee stood before a wall of arcane sketches and scribbled theories pinned up in a chaotic pattern only she could understand.
Sir Garran entered with his usual quiet presence.
"She's left," he said. "Should arrive back at the Fortress in a few days if the roads stay clear."
Linalee didn't turn from her notes. "Good. Keep watch over her, Garran."
"She seems fine."
"That's the problem," Linalee murmured, her voice thin as gossamer. "That dragon, that sudden moment of nonexistence…her thread in the weave of fate… it slipped. Like it was forcibly pulled back into place. And that is not fine at all!"
She sighed again.
"It's bothering me that Arasha's fate might be tainted by something far beyond what we can handle, and I'm not sure if that's good or bad…I know I said that before but it gnaws me to my very core. So I'm saying it again."
Garran frowned deeply. "You think someone's meddling with her fate?"
"I know it." Linalee finally turned to him, her eyes glowing faintly with magic. "But I don't know how. Or why. But something ancient, no, something more deeper, more hidden, something primordial… is watching her."
Garran's jaw clenched, but he nodded. "If anything changes, you'll be the first to know."
Linalee turned back to the constellation of papers and sigils. "And I'll contact you if I find the reason. Just… don't let her out of sight too long."
"Wasn't planning to," he muttered, turning on his heel.
****
Back in the southern stronghold, the air was warmer, but the tension no less biting. Leta, arms folded, watched Kane silently pacing near the outer ramparts.
"You do realize," she said at last, "that she is coming back."
Kane didn't answer immediately. His arms were crossed, eyes narrowed at the distant horizon.
"She should've told me," he muttered.
"She's the Commander. She's not obligated to—"
"She should've told me," Kane said again, quieter this time. "I promised to protect her…"
Leta approached, her voice gentling. "She carries too much. Sometimes even the strongest forget to look back at those following them."
Kane's lips parted, but the words never came.
Only a quiet resolve settled over him.
He'd be by her side.
He wouldn't let her vanish again.