Heavy footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor as Dorian ascended the long stone staircase toward his private chambers. Behind him, a group of councilmen stumbled desperately, voices hoarse and pleading.
"We did exactly as you commanded, my lord!" one gasped, clutching at his throat.
"Please… the antidote," another wheezed, breaking into a violent cough. "I can hardly breathe…"
Dorian halted. Slowly, he turned, his expression cold and unyielding—an ominous glare that silenced the hallway like a blade pressed to their necks.
Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a single vial. The councilmen's eyes widened with frantic hope. Then, with casual cruelty, Dorian tossed it toward them.
"Fight for it," he said flatly, "like the dogs you are."
He turned and continued walking, never looking back. Behind him, the once-proud councilmen descended into chaos, clawing and shoving one another for the lone vial, their dignity shattered.
Dorian's Chambers
By the time Dorian reached his chambers, his face was twisted in barely contained rage. He shoved the heavy door open, only to freeze.
The chains that had bound Yiva lay scattered across the floor—broken, empty. She was gone.
His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.
One Hour Earlier
"Yiva!" Astrid's urgent voice cut through the haze.
Yiva's eyes fluttered open, her mind foggy as if she had been drugged. A strange chill hung in the air, far colder than it should have been. The room itself seemed to radiate frost.
Astrid rushed forward and reached for the chains, but the moment her fingers touched the metal, a biting cold shot through her hand. The chains were frozen solid—unnaturally so.
"What is this…?" Astrid whispered, pulling her hand back.
She touched Yiva's face instead. The girl's skin was ice-cold.
"Yiva, wake up!" Astrid shook her, first gently, then desperately.
Yiva's eyes snapped open. When she parted her lips, a visible cloud of chill smoke escaped.
"Richford…?" she murmured, her voice weak and distant.
Astrid noticed a small empty vial near Yiva's feet. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed a heavy iron rod and swung it hard against the frozen chains.
With a sharp crack, the icy links shattered. Astrid scooped Yiva into her arms and hurried toward the door.
"Richford… I'm sorry…" Yiva whispered again, her breath forming faint white puffs. Her face was already turning a sickly blue.
Flashback – Greenwood
Ten years ago, little Yiva chased after her brother, laughing.
"Wait!"
"Shut up," Garon teased, holding a letter high while Yiva jumped futilely to reach it.
"Let me see!"
Garon smirked. "Eh? A love letter?"
Yiva's cheeks flushed. She hit his arm before flopping onto her bed with a huff.
Eventually, Garon lowered the letter. "Take it. I'm sorry."
Yiva snatched it, then burst into laughter. "Got you! You think I've forgotten you can't read?"
A knock interrupted them. Their mother smiled. "Yiva, Garon—Richford is here."
A boy their age stood in the doorway, waving shyly.
Yiva's eyes lit up. She rushed to him, grabbing his hands. "Richford! Come—follow me! I have something for you!"
What followed was pure chaos.
"Hands off—he's mine!" Garon declared, dragging Richford away.
"Wait!" Richford yelped.
Yiva chased after them, laughing. "Oooooohhh!"
"You can't catch up, you hug!" Garon taunted.
With a determined cry, Yiva leaped forward—only for all three to tumble spectacularly down the stairs, landing in a heap as maids scattered in panic.
Yiva rubbed her head. "Ow…"
"My head…" Garon groaned.
But Yiva was already grinning. She grabbed Richford's hand. "I got him!"
Later, once things had calmed, Yiva shyly handed Richford the letter she had written.
"Marry me," she said, eyes shining with hope.
Richford blinked. "I don't—we're cousins…"
He saw her expression begin to crumble and quickly added with a gentle smile, "Don't worry. When we're older, I'm sure I'll marry you."
Yiva's face brightened. She nodded vigorously. "Yea!"
Two Years Later
Heavy rain poured outside the cottage.
Garon held Yiva's hand tightly as they stared at Richford, who sat pale and motionless in a wooden chair. His father stood beside him, embracing King Sweyn Forkbeard with quiet desperation.
Richford had been diagnosed with epilepsy. An unexpected attack had caused him to fall from a great height, costing him the use of his legs. His father had brought him to the castle, hoping the change of environment would help.
Yiva rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him tightly, tears streaming down her face. Garon joined the embrace.
For a while, having Richford in the castle felt wonderful for the twins. He seemed happy on the surface, but deep down, depression gnawed at him.
One evening, inside the king's private chamber, Richford's father pleaded on his knees.
"Sweyn, please… you're my older brother. Help me. Tell me how you did it—I want my son healed. I want him to walk again."
Sweyn's expression darkened. "I will not hear you speak of that again. How dare you accuse me of sorcery?"
He rose to leave.
"He's your nephew—your blood!" the father cried.
Sweyn opened the door where knights waited, then shut it behind him without another word.
Meanwhile, in the twins' room, Yiva and Garon were arguing loudly.
Richford sat alone in his chair. The noise grew unbearable. His thoughts spiraled.
*I hate them… Die… die… die…*
The word slipped from his lips. "Die."
The twins froze.
"Are you okay?" Yiva asked, rushing over.
He struck her away in a burst of unintended rage, then looked horrified. "I'm sorry…"
"It's okay," Yiva said softly.
"Hey, cuz… you alright?" Garon asked carefully.
Richford blinked. Blood was trickling from his eyes and mouth.
Then he collapsed.
When he awoke, Yiva was dozing beside his bed. He smiled softly.
"Hey," he whispered.
Yiva startled awake. "Are you okay?!" She rushed to his side.
"Yeah… I think so."
His father entered, tears in his eyes, and pulled his son into a tight embrace.
Days later, Richford's father announced he had found a healer—a mysterious woman who claimed she could restore his son's legs. Sweyn wished them luck, though a growing distance had formed between the brothers.
Yiva and Garon hugged Richford fiercely.
"If there's anything I can do… please tell me," Yiva whispered through tears, waving as their horses departed.
The Next Evening
Garon went to check on his sister, but her room was empty. Unbeknownst to him, a kidnapper lurked behind the door, holding Yiva hostage. The moment Garon stepped inside, a heavy blow struck him, and everything went black.
Maids soon discovered him unconscious. Knights swarmed the castle in search of Yiva.
"What happened?" King Sweyn demanded.
"Father… I don't know," Garon sobbed.
"Leave the child be," their mother said gently.
Moments later, the commander presented evidence that left the king stunned.
Yiva woke up bound and terrified. A ritualistic symbol drawn in blood covered the floor beneath her. She tried to scream, but her body refused to move.
Then a figure entered—Richford's father.
She looked at him with desperate hope, but realization dawned. He was the one behind this.
"Your father is a wicked man," he said coldly. "Too bad I once saw him truly as my brother."
"Let me go… please," Yiva begged.
"No. What's inside you can heal my son. Don't you want that? You said you'd do anything to save him."
Yiva's expression shifted. "Will it… work?"
"Yes."
She lowered her gaze, ready to sacrifice everything for the boy she loved.
A knock sounded.
"Father?" Richford's voice called.
His father let him in.
Richford's face filled with shock and fury. "Father… what is this?"
"I'm going to make you better, son. The healer said she's special—she has the power to heal you. We just need to take it from her through the ritual."
With a roar of anger, Richford slammed his chair forward, crushing his father's leg, then rushed to free Yiva.
"No, don't!" Yiva cried.
"If a weak and useless person like me can save you… then I want to. I want you to get better. I want you to live a good life."
Tears spilled down Richford's cheeks. "Idiot. It's not worth it. Having your death on my conscience? You're not useless. You're the strongest person I know."
Yiva stared at him, crying harder.
"Crybaby," he teased softly.
"You… were crying too," she replied.
Richford tried to untie her, but his father struck him from behind with an iron lamp. Blood poured from the wound, triggering another attack. Richford convulsed on the ground.
"No, no, no!" his father panicked.
"I have to continue… to save him," the man muttered, dropping his son and turning back to Yiva.
"Don't touch me!" Yiva screamed, kicking wildly.
A single teardrop fell from her eye and landed on the ritual symbol. The mark flared with dark light. Something ancient awakened inside her.
"What the hell…?" the man whispered.
He turned at the sound of echoing laughter—only to see the witch he had met. She was visible only to him.
"You lied!" he shouted.
The witch laughed and vanished.
When he spun back toward Yiva, a massive block of ice hurtled toward him.
Outside
Horses thundered closer as King Sweyn and his knights arrived. The entire building was encased in towering ice, frozen solid.
It took them days to break through.
Yiva was the only survivor.
Days Later
Everything changed for Yiva.
Physically, she had gained terrifying new powers. Emotionally, she withdrew from everyone. She pushed people away with arrogance and coldness, terrified that her abilities would one day kill those she cared about.
She had even frozen a maid solid in her sleep.
She grew distant from her own brother, isolating herself completely.
Present Day
Astrid carried the weakening Yiva through the halls, desperate to reach safety.
"Richford… I'm sorry…" Yiva whispered again. Her face was deathly blue, her body radiating cold. Astrid was forced to set her down—the chill had become unbearable.
As Astrid reached the end of the corridor, a figure appeared behind her in a blur and sent her flying with a powerful strike.
The witch hovered in the air, gently touching the frail Yiva with a sinister smile.
Just then, Dot and Garon burst into the hallway. They saw the witch too.
"Let her go!" Garon roared.
He and Dot charged forward—but the witch dissolved into a swirling murder of crows. The black birds rose in a deafening cacophony and vanished into the night, taking Yiva with them.
To be continued…