The morning after the banquet felt strangely quiet.
Within the palace, servants moved carefully through the corridors, whispering among themselves about the royal announcement. The betrothal between Princess Seraphina and the prince of Faldimoud had become the only subject anyone spoke about.
But the princess herself showed no sign of resistance.
At least, not openly.
Seraphina attended the morning council with calm composure. She listened to advisors discuss trade routes, taxes, and the coming winter supplies as if nothing had changed.
To the court, she appeared obedient.
Respectful.
Accepting of her fate.
But inside her mind, plans were already forming.
She understood the political game far too well to fight recklessly.
And somewhere beyond the palace walls…
Someone else had already begun fighting for her.
---
Before sunrise that same morning, a lone rider left the capital of Valoria.
The guards at the northern gate barely looked twice as the cloaked figure passed through. Many knights traveled between the capital and distant forts, especially during the winter months.
But this rider did not wear the colors of the royal guard.
His cloak was plain.
His armor simple.
And his destination lay far beyond any ordinary patrol.
Arvin rode without looking back.
The capital slowly faded behind him as the road stretched into endless forests dusted with snow. The wind grew colder the farther north he traveled, biting through the layers of clothing beneath his armor.
For the first few days, the journey was peaceful.
Small villages dotted the roads, and travelers occasionally passed by with wagons filled with supplies.
But as the land grew harsher, the roads began to empty.
The trees grew taller.
The mountains began to rise on the horizon.
And the cold became relentless.
The people of Valoria rarely traveled this far north.
The region was known for its dangerous beasts and unforgiving climate.
But Arvin had chosen this path for a reason.
There were stories told among the knights of Valoria.
Stories about a woman who lived deep within the northern mountains.
Some called her a witch.
Others called her a master of ancient magic.
A few claimed she had lived for centuries.
No one could agree on the truth.
But every version of the story shared one detail.
Anyone who survived her training would return stronger than any warrior alive.
That was all Arvin needed to hear.
---
Days turned into a week.
The road eventually disappeared beneath deep snow.
Arvin was forced to leave his horse behind at a small mountain village. From there, he continued on foot, climbing through narrow paths between towering cliffs.
The Frostveil Mountains.
The locals had warned him not to enter.
"Nothing good waits for travelers up there," an old villager had told him.
Arvin ignored the warning.
By the time he reached the frozen forest beneath the mountains, even the sky seemed darker.
Snow fell constantly, covering the land in endless white.
After hours of walking through the silent woods, Arvin finally saw something unexpected.
A small wooden hut.
Smoke curled gently from the chimney.
Someone lived here.
Arvin approached cautiously and raised his hand to knock.
But before his knuckles touched the door—
It opened.
An old woman stood in the doorway.
Her long silver hair moved slightly in the cold wind, and her pale blue eyes seemed to glow faintly.
"You took your time," she said.
Arvin froze.
"You were expecting me?"
The woman smirked.
"I knew you would come the moment you left the capital."
Arvin studied her carefully.
"You know who I am?"
"I know what you want," she replied calmly.
She stepped aside and gestured toward the warm interior of the hut.
"Come in, boy. The cold outside is not patient."
Arvin entered cautiously.
The inside of the hut smelled of burning herbs and old wood. Strange symbols were carved into the walls, and ancient weapons hung above the fireplace.
The old woman sat across from him.
"You want power," she said.
"To stand beside a princess."
Arvin did not react.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Tell me something, knight."
"Are you willing to bleed for it?"
Arvin placed his sword carefully on the wooden table.
"I already have."
The woman studied him for a moment.
Then she smiled slowly.
"Good."
She stood and walked toward the door.
Arvin frowned.
"What kind of training will this be?"
The woman opened the door, letting freezing wind rush into the hut.
"The kind," she said calmly,
"that kills most men."
She looked back at him.
"Let's see if you are one of them."
---
Morning arrived quickly in the mountains.
Arvin stood outside the hut, sword in hand.
Snow covered the ground so deeply that each step felt heavy.
Across from him, the witch watched silently.
"Swing," she ordered.
Arvin obeyed.
His sword cut through the air.
"Again."
He swung once more.
The witch shook her head.
"You fight like every other knight."
Arvin frowned.
"That is how I was trained."
"That," she replied calmly, "is why most knights die."
She walked closer and placed two fingers against the flat side of his blade.
"Magic does not live in the sword."
Her glowing eyes met his.
"It lives in you."
Arvin tightened his grip.
"I don't understand."
"Close your eyes."
He hesitated.
Then obeyed.
The wind roared through the trees around him.
"Feel the cold," the witch said softly.
"Feel the air. The snow. The energy of the world."
At first, Arvin felt nothing.
Then slowly—
A strange warmth began spreading through his chest.
"Now guide it," she whispered.
Arvin raised his sword slowly.
The warmth moved through his arm.
Into the blade.
The steel began glowing with faint blue light.
Arvin's eyes snapped open.
"What is this?"
"Focus," the witch said.
"Strike."
Arvin swung.
The sword cut through the air—
And the snow before him exploded outward in a shockwave.
The trees nearby shook violently.
Silence returned.
Arvin stared at the glowing blade in disbelief.
The witch smiled faintly.
"Good."
She turned toward the hut.
"That was the easy part."
Arvin looked up.
"What do you mean?"
Without turning around, the witch answered calmly.
"Now you must swing that same strike until the energy reaches one hundred meters."
Arvin blinked.
"...One hundred meters?"
The witch nodded.
"If you cannot do this," she said,
"you cannot handle what is coming for you."
She looked back at him.
"You may leave if you wish."
Arvin slowly lifted his sword again.
The blue light began forming along the blade.
"I'm not leaving."
The witch smiled faintly.
"Good answer."
As snow continued falling over the Frostveil Mountains—
Arvin began the training that would either break him…
Or transform him into something far more dangerous than a knight.