CHAPTER 1: The frost that did not break

The world was cold.

Not the biting chill of winter or the familiar sting of ice magic.

No — this cold was different. A dull, suffocating stillness that seeped into her skin and settled in her bones like rot.

A bed. A window.

The quiet drip of a distant icicle melting somewhere beyond the glass.

Elodie Cecilia opened her eyes.

And screamed.

But no sound came out.

Her mouth was open, her chest heaving, but only silence greeted her. A scream lodged in her throat — stuck somewhere between disbelief and terror. Her body shot upright in bed, every muscle locking into place. Her heart pounded like a war drum against her ribs, wild and panicked.

Her fingers clenched the silk blanket covering her legs, bunching it up like a lifeline. Her breath came in gasps, sharp and ragged, as though she’d been drowning for years.

No — she had.

Poisoned. Paralyzed. Forgotten.

Her last memory: the other Elodie standing beside her bed, her hand nestled gently in the second prince’s. Elle’s hand. It should’ve been hers. It was hers.

Once.

And now…

Her gaze snapped around the room. Familiar, too familiar. The ivory canopy above. The pale blue curtains dancing in the breeze. The scent — lilac and snowmint — clung to everything like an old dream. There, across the room, stood her battered wooden desk, still stacked with books on elemental theory, mana channeling, and noble etiquette. Books she had studied for years in vain.

Back then, they had been symbols of hope. Then reminders of failure.

And now…

Elle’s hand flew to her chest. Her heart thundered beneath her ribs.

“I’m alive,” she whispered, barely able to believe it. Her voice cracked. “This is… this is my room.” She looked around again, slower this time. “Before…”

Before the letters came.

Before the battlefield swallowed her brothers whole.

Before her father was chained in a dungeon and her mother faded away.

Before the prince slipped a ring onto another Elodie’s finger.

Before her uncle smiled at her funeral.

Elle stood up — and nearly collapsed. Her knees shook as if they were made of glass. She grabbed the nearest post of her bed and steadied herself, breath sharp and thin.

The mirror beside the armoire caught her reflection.

A pale girl with snow-white hair and storm-colored eyes stared back. Her cheeks were flushed from panic, her lips parted in disbelief. Her expression twisted — confusion gave way to horror, then rage.

Her knees buckled, but she forced herself to stay upright.

“No,” she whispered. “Not again.”

Tears blurred her vision. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Her voice sounded younger. Softer. Her body felt lighter — smaller. She had gone back. Back before everything fell apart.

Her hands gripped the mirror’s frame like it might anchor her to reality.

“Father. Mother. Elijah. Eleazar…”

Their names left her lips like a prayer. Like a vow.

She stared at her reflection — the same powerless girl everyone had pitied. The magicless disgrace of the Cecilia name.

“I’ll stop it,” she swore, voice trembling. “I don’t care if I have to crawl through the underworld. I will wield magic. I will protect this family. I will destroy Benjamin.”

Her uncle. The man who wore a kind smile and hid a serpent’s fangs beneath it. The one who called her niece with one breath and cast her into ruin with the next.

Elle wiped at her tears, her expression hardening like frost forming over water. Her eyes turned to ice.

“I’ll become the monster they should have feared.”

She exhaled slowly.

“From now on… I won't be their pity. I'll be their reckoning.”

And the frost in her veins began to stir.

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