{Third Person}
Two Weeks Later…
The forests surrounding the palace had long turned pale beneath frost, and every morning, cold mist stretched heavily across the mountain ranges beyond the capital.
Yet despite the deepening season, life within the palace continued almost unaffected.
The werewolves moved through winter naturally and comfortably as though the cold itself did not exist.
Only Amara seemed to suffer more with each passing day.
This morning, she had woken feeling strangely uncomfortable. Not sick exactly, just… wrong.
Even after staying close to the fireplace for hours and wrapping herself in layers of blankets, the cold still seemed to cling stubbornly to her body.
And worse, her skin itched constantly.
Amara sat curled near the edge of her bed while absentmindedly scratching lightly at her wrist again.
"There is nothing there," she murmured in frustration while staring at her skin.
There were no rashes, no redness. Nothing unusual at all.
