Dorsey's POV

  The living room was in disarray. Shattered glass scattered like fallen stars, the vases splintered across the marble floor. The faces in the family portrait had smeared into ghostly blurs, as if time itself had tried to erase us. Even the rug was ruined, its woven threads darkened and torn, like the remnants of Snowdoom Forest after the burn. She must have scraped her boots there before leaving, deliberately, mockingly, an insult carved into the floor of my home.

  "I don't care if she's the one in control or not!" I yelled, my voice trembling between fury and pain. "She killed my guard, and you let her go. Now we won't be able to find her anytime soon. That brain of yours will only go to waste, Claudius."

  "I was afraid, Dorsey." He tightened the bandage around my abdomen, his hands unsteady. "I get what you mean now—she’s creepy and dangerous."

  He hesitated. “She took my first kiss,” he said softly. “And it wasn’t what I thought it would be, not like the romanticism of the books I’ve read. It felt… wrong, as if I kissed a complete stranger.”

  “See? That was a literal lesson for you, that love is a poison, and you just now realized. She’s never the girl you thought she was, because my instinct had always told me there’s darkness lurking within her.”

  “I wanted to justify Arie, but maybe she really is correct. I don’t know what she is anymore. I’d rather hear chilling bedtime stories from my mother.”

  “How dare you doubt her confession? Of course, it was all true. She lacked self-control, hence the reason why she slipped those words through her lips.” I forced myself upright, pain lacing through every breath, and began fastening the corset over the bandages. “Listen, she is greater than those spoken myths. She is real, and that was our only chance to stop her from becoming a feared legend. You just let a monster crawl over our continent.”

  “There’s a lot already, including Felipe. I don’t remember anything of Arie acting strange before the invasion. Who knows if something bad had happened before I encountered her still alive in Fresha? What if Skadar’s iceberg involved a spell? Or a sorcerer could have found her and—”

  “Stop it, Claudius. There’s no denying her unforgivable actions.”

  He exhaled, brushing a trembling hand through his periwinkle hair. “I’ll never ever go to the basement again.”

  “Did you clean it?” I asked.

  “She did. In exchange that she would ruin your home.”

  “Megadamn, I wish I could curse her,” I muttered.

  “I’ve gained valuable information though,” Claudius said, regaining a touch of composure. “The Bear Evolution book is actually Bear Revolution. It contains a message about The Mysterious Bear, who’s working together with the former Guardian of Polarmen to thieve ice bills. They’re operating in Fresha too—and yes—she’s the one that told me.”

  “You must have told me that in the first place rather than your disappointing romance,” I said sharply. “Why would she tell you that?”

  “Perhaps she can’t solve the mystery either,” he replied, his tone flattening into that familiar, unreadable stoicism.

  “It’s irrelevant to us wealthy nobles. Only peasants leave their assets unsafe. We have a mystery to solve too.” I turned to the pristine portrait of my father, the one frame left untouched by her wrath. “The case that I was idiotically imprisoned for.”

  “I thought we already knew who did it,” Claudius said, stretching his hands in disbelief.

  “I still don’t understand the peasant slippers,” I murmured, almost to myself. “I’ve heard an old turtle sorcerer lives by the sea cave somewhere in the Great Glacia Ocean. He might be the only key to help us solve this mystery.”

  ***

  The rocky structure yawned open before us, its shadow stretching like a beast waiting to swallow intruders whole. The wind swept through, tugging at my braided hair, carrying with it the distant echo of the ocean’s waves. Claudius had already done his part, slipping past the Ice Judge’s chambers, silencing his trail with smoke, blinding the guards as if snuffing out candle flames.

  “Here’s the peasant slippers,” Claudius said, holding them out.

  I raised a hand to stop him. “We’ll go in without your phantom tricks.”

  He obeyed with a curt nod.

  The moment we crossed the threshold, vines along the walls began to pulse with a cyan glow, shedding a ghostly light across the wet stone. The air was thick with the scent of coral and seaweed, as though the ocean itself had exhaled into this hollow place. The tunnel narrowed, its darkness pressing closer, and somewhere beyond it, the sorcerer waited.

  The book had spoken of him: a turtle of wisdom, aged by centuries and sharpened by solitude. A creature who once conquered the Ice Monster’s Lair and made it his own.

  “And there they are!” a gravelly voice boomed before we reached the end. “The ocean spirit couple I’ve been summoning for ages. At last, my spell worked!”

  I blinked. Spirit couple?

  The speaker was an enormous turtle, his shell weathered with frost and moss. By his tail, a snow-creature scuttled—small, with glassy black eyes and a grin far too familiar. Donshell plucked the creature up, setting it on his back as though it belonged there.

  “We’re here to ask for your power,” Claudius began, his tone measured.

  “Oh, that’s disappointing.” The old turtle frowned. “I was hoping it was the other way around. I made Chillbi sign my contract to ensure this spell worked, and as usual, it’s a failure.”

  “Stop with your theatrics,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’m Princess Dorsey Glaciouso of Glacia, and I command you to fulfill my request.”

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  Donshell straightened—or as much as a turtle could—and inclined his head. “Forgive me, Your Highness. My age has made me sluggish… or perhaps time moves slower here than in your realm. It’s been long since anyone came.”

  I glanced at Claudius. His look said everything: what in the frozen depths is he talking about?

  “Are you unaware of what’s been happening outside?” I pressed, my patience thinning. “If so, you’re of no use to me.”

  The sorcerer’s cloudy eyes glinted. “I know of the Ice Princess’s Trial… and the chaos that followed.” His shell creaked as he moved closer, resting his scepter against the stone. “You wish to know who the true owner of the object from that trial is, don’t you?”

  “Yes. And he’ll sign the contract,” I said, jerking my chin toward Claudius.

  Donshell chuckled, low and slow. “That’s not how this works, Princess. I don’t wield my own magic—I serve the magic of water itself.”

  At that, the snow-creature hopped from his back, baring its tiny fangs in what passed for a grin. “Me lead way!” it growled, and scuttled toward a narrow passage behind a boulder.

  We followed.

  The sound of dripping water guided us deeper, echoing off unseen walls. Shadows crawled along the edges of the cavern, restless and alive. The air grew cooler, the silence heavier.

  When we reached the heart of the chamber, the water stretched before us—dark, rippling with faint light from the vines above. Droplets fell from the ceiling in a slow, rhythmic pattern, like the ticking of an ancient clock.

  We stood by the edge. Our reflections stared back—haunting, distorted. My own face looked poised yet severe, carved from ice. Claudius adjusted his glasses beside me, his tall frame slightly bent toward the glowing pool. Donshell waded in, his shell glistening as the water lapped around him, and dipped the peasant slippers into its surface.

  He kept his eyes closed for a long moment, and when they opened, something shifted behind them, like light cracking through still water.

  “The owner of these peasant slippers is none other than... you, Princess.” His voice was soft but certain, a tremor of revelation threading through it as he brushed a wrinkled hand over his bald head.

  My heart faltered. “How? How could it be me?” I demanded, the words sounding foreign even to myself.

  “I know the trick she could have used to make its essence yours,” Donshell said, his tone dipping into caution. “But you must look at it differently.”

  “Perhaps she stole a belonging of Dorsey’s,” Claudius interjected, lifting a finger as if presenting an irrefutable point, “and cast a spell to turn it into peasant slippers.”

  “That’s correct, nobleman.” The sorcerer studied him, squinting. “You—are you Lady Celestia’s son?”

  “Yes, I am indeed her son.” Claudius’s voice softened, almost hesitant. “Can you track where she is?”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t,” Donshell murmured. “But I’ve heard of a man bearing the family name Collfumes—missing since the end of King Aether’s reign. I wondered if he was ever found, perhaps without public word. Or if he met your mother once again.”

  “I haven’t heard anything,” Claudius said, his voice thin. “Not since I was young.”

  “Enough,” I cut in sharply, my tone iron. “I’m not here to reminisce about bloodlines.” My voice wavered only slightly. “I’ve checked every possession I own. Nothing’s missing. Unless... it’s something Arie kept from me when we were children.” I paused, realizing how faint the memory felt, like a dream fading with daylight.

  “Magic can alter our memories too, Princess,” Donshell replied gravely. “It is a potent poison. Not only that, it breeds flaws. Sometimes the essence of a transformed object remains tied to its original owner, even when tampered with. Inner magic isn’t flawless, just as outer magic cannot replicate the intricacy of true life. Environment affects outer magic. The mind affects inner magic. Magic is nature’s gift, but it’s also its restraint. We should never crave more than it allows.”

  I clenched my fists. “Then why was Arie able to escape her sins?”

  “First of all,” he countered, “why would she kill your parents? You share the same blood, the same intellect for your age. She had a life envied by many, and was once your closest ally.”

  “You said magic isn’t infallible,” Claudius said, adjusting his glasses. “That means whoever did this couldn’t completely erase their traces. I’d like to believe someone else is the culprit, but every sign points to Arie.”

  “Keep your mouth shut, Claudius.” My glare could have frozen the ocean. He faltered, shrinking back, his gaze dropping to the small monster at his feet.

  I wanted to speak, to refute him, but the words caught somewhere between my ribs. My throat tightened, and before I knew it, tears spilled from my eyes. I didn’t even know why I still cried for her.

  “She—she’s gone mad,” I whispered, my voice breaking into pieces. “I’ve tried to suppress it all with reason, but her confession... it disgusts me. It’s the most futile admission I’ve ever heard.”

  I felt cheated—how easily she could bend the rules, twist ethics and logic until they bowed to her will. Every principle, every truth, stripped of worth and repurposed into her creed of chaos. She wasn’t simply immoral; she was a desecration in human form. And she had killed my parents. No motive would ever make that sound right. It never could.

  I’ve always despised inner magic. Yet once, I longed for it, envied those born with it, as if their veins carried privilege and mine carried frost. Before neither of them died, I dreamed of that power. And now, standing here hollowed by grief, all I could do was cry—cry out the anger I’d been forced to swallow since birth. I had lost before the first strike was ever made, because I was never blessed with that absolute force.

  I wiped my tears away with my handkerchief, the fabric cold against my skin, and let out a trembling breath. Then I walked toward Claudius.

  “Maybe Skadar is also a part of this,” I whispered, lowering my voice to a thread of sound. “It’s definitely possible, because the two were in love with each other, and both of them are jerks.”

  Claudius tried to stifle a laugh. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  ***

  The throne room glittered with chandeliers that hung like frozen stars, their light bending across the marbled floor. Across from me sat a chair that seemed foreign in this kingdom of frost—warm wood and velvet, an oddity among the cold. Felipe lounged upon it, one leg crossed over the other, his predatory gaze fixed on me. No General Sterling this time. Only the hum of torches, flickering against the walls, fighting back the chill.

  “What are you here for, Princess Dorsey?” he cooed, voice steeped in mockery. “Would you care to explain why you were following me, why you fought beside me without command—and vanished after sending my soldiers?”

  “I couldn’t be ignorant when it was my duty to assist the Ice King in danger,” I replied, tone as even as glass. “You did not summon me back, and I trusted your safety to the number of soldiers under your command.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, teeth flashing in a wolfish grin, “you had an appointment with that young noble who trails after you like a hound. Just a reminder, none of you can dethrone me. I have eyes and ears everywhere.” His voice deepened, low and territorial. “I heard your personal guard is dead. Would you like a replacement from my Wolfmen? They’re far more versatile than any Glacian could ever hope to be.”

  “I prefer a Glacian,” I said, unmoved. “And I’m not in urgent need of a bodyguard. I’m here to tell you something of importance, Ice King.”

  Felipe raised an eyebrow. “And what revelation have you brought me now, Princess?”

  “Skadar was never hurt by Arie,” I said, steady. “It was the opposite.”

  His grin faltered. “What are you talking about? Explain.”

  “He froze her and buried her beneath the Great Glacia Ocean,” I continued. “But sometime after, a Polarman named Skymint found her, and hid with her. Skadar lied to you, Ice King.”

  Felipe’s snarl rolled like thunder. “Where did you get that information?”

  “I followed your advice,” I said. “Claudius used his phantom abilities, he read Skadar’s mind. And in that glimpse, he saw it. The guilt. The act itself.”

  Felipe’s expression twisted into rage. “It all clicks now. He’s the reason Arie escaped. He was with her, helping her flee the burning palace. And I believed his story!” He slammed a fist against the armrest. “I shouldn’t have trusted him, not like I trusted his father. What a treacherous bastard!”

  “That is all I had to report, Ice King,” I said, my voice calm against the storm. “May I leave now?”

  “Before you go,” he said, rising from the throne, his shadow stretching across the floor, “you’re the only princess I have left here.”

  He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp as breaking ice. “I have a Glacian guard for you. You may come out now.”