Ophelia stared at the snowman-shaped crystal perched on the Duke's bedroom table. It shimmered in the morning light like a frozen piece of nostalgia she couldn't bring herself to ignore. She remembered the first time she met Etien, twenty years ago, back when they were just kids. He used to be so full of light, laughter, mischief. A far cry from the Etien Carter now seated on his father's old throne, stern, composed, and colder than the southern frost he ruled over.
Time never lies. And from everything that spilled out along the way, Ophelia remembered the tears—the countless, silent tears, that must've frozen Etien into the man he'd become. A wall of ice. Unbending. Absolute. The kind of ruler so obsessed with his territory he seemed more tyrant than Duke. Even his four-year-long reform felt more like a power move to prove Winterbraun couldn't be claimed by any corner of Aetharion. Not the land, and definitely not its ruler.
