Though it was high noon, the sky hung heavy with the oppressive gloom of twilight. The blizzard raged with a newfound fury, drowning the world in a chaotic haze of grayish-white. Seven figures led six horses forward at a grueling pace, the wind-whipped snowflakes stinging their exposed skin like a thousand needles.
Rhine marched at the very front of the line. A low, constant flame flickered along the length of his longblade, the orange glow dancing defiantly against the white void. Every time the blade swept forward, the chest-deep drifts vanished instantly.
The fire carved a path—a bright, steaming corridor of warmth that pushed the cold and the snow to either side. Following this wake of cinders, the group could walk on solid ground, spared from the agonizing labor of trudging through the deepening powder. Beneath the glow of his blade, the air temperature rose just enough to offer a fleeting sense of comfort in the heart of the storm.
"Dammit!" Rhine snarled, the flames on his steel leaping higher. "This hellish weather... it's like the sky itself is trying to pick a fight with me!"
Lunethia walked directly behind him, leading Storm by the reins. She watched the tension in his shoulders, her brow knit with concern. "Rhine... are you... are you doing alright?"
"I'm fine!" Rhine snapped, his gaze fixed forward. His blade hissed as it turned snow into rising mist. "The snow hasn't let up since last night, and it's only getting worse. This path is wide enough for everyone—just keep moving and don't worry about me!"
Rena, following close behind Lunethia, spoke up softly. "Boss, you really don't have to push yourself this hard. We can handle a bit of trekking; it's not like we'd burn through that much energy."
"Shut up!" Rhine barked, glancing back just enough for the firelight to catch the hard, strained lines of his face. "I said I'm clearing the way, and that's the end of it! Trying to wade through waist-high drifts will kill our pace, and I'm not letting a little snow be the reason we're delayed!"
Rena let out a helpless sigh and fell back into line. She could only watch his silhouette—solitary and stubborn—illuminated by the very fire he was burning himself out to maintain. Lunethia gripped Storm's reins tighter, her heart heavy with a mixture of confusion and admiration. She stepped carefully into the glowing corridor, following the warmth of the path he had carved out of the frost.
Suddenly, Milia's voice drifted in from the side, carrying a flicker of hope. "Boss! There looks to be a house off to the right. We might be able to take cover from the storm there."
Owen was quick to chime in. "She's right! Look at Gerald—his eyebrows are literally frosting over. Let's duck inside for a bit!"
Rhine shot them a sidelong glance, his lips thinning into a hard line. "Ignore him. The old man spends every waking second asleep anyway; a little ice will just ensure he doesn't wake up and start complaining."
"Boss..." Gareth muttered, his voice strained. "I'm reaching my limit here. If we don't stop now and we miss that house, I don't know if I'll make the next mile."
Rhine's brow furrowed, his gaze sharpening with irritation. "Since when did you all become so pathetic!?"
Rena arched an eyebrow, her tone carrying a touch of reproach, though her eyes remained soft. "Have you even looked at Thea? She's as pale as a ghost. Are you really going to keep marching until she collapses, or are we going to find some shelter?"
Rhine shifted his gaze to Lunethia. He let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. "Fine. We'll head to the house and rest."
Lunethia blinked in surprise, her voice small and hesitant. "I... I can keep going. Really..."
Rena gave her shoulder a gentle but firm pat, her smile brook no argument. "Don't say another word. Just move."
Lunethia fell silent and followed closely behind Rhine. They moved along the corridor of fire he continued to blaze, heading toward the lonely, skeletal structure in the distance.
They reached the house moments later. It was a ruin of weathered timber and neglect; the wooden door hung precariously on a single hinge, the windows were shattered, and the entire frame leaned at a precarious angle as if ready to surrender to the earth. The blizzard shrieked through the broken panes, the wind rattling the decayed wood with a piercing, ghostly sound.
"Better than a ditch," Rhine grunted. He raised a boot and kicked the hanging door aside, leading the party and their horses into the cramped interior.
Gareth moved to one of the mottled support beams, giving it a diagnostic tap. "It feels stable enough for now," he murmured. "I'll scavenge some materials to shore up the frame and patch these windows. We should be alright for the night."
Rhine nodded toward the door. "Owen, go hack some wood. We need a fire going immediately."
Owen scratched his head, looking out at the blizzard with a worried expression. "On it, Boss... but in this weather, any wood I find is going to be soaked through. Will it even burn?"
Rhine rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with impatience. "Are you thick? Just bring it here. I'll blast it with my flames until it's bone-dry!"
Owen blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Oh, right... Heh, forgot who I was talking to for a second. I'm on it!"
Rena turned to Milia with a smile. "In that case, you and I will handle the rations. Rhine, you're on cleanup duty. Clear out the rest of this junk."
Rhine gave a dismissive wave. "Got it," he grunted.
Lunethia stood by the wall, feeling a bit out of place. "Um... is there anything I can do to help?"
Rhine glanced her way, his eyes softening with a flicker of silent concern before he looked away. "You? Right—you're the horse whisperer. Go tell those beasts not to relieve themselves inside. We're likely stuck here for the night."
Lunethia puffed out her cheeks in a small pout but walked over to the horses nonetheless. She began to murmur to them in a soft, melodic tone, her voice acting like a soothing balm for the agitated animals. To Rhine's secret amazement, the horses actually responded—letting out low, gentle whinnies, with a few even leaning in to nuzzle her shoulder affectionately.
Rhine looked away, feeling an odd sense of discomfort. He muttered under his breath, "Always playing at being a mystic..."
He then bent down and began aggressively clearing the shattered floorboards and debris scattered across the main hall.
Seeing him working alone, Lunethia walked over and knelt beside him, beginning to stack the broken timber to one side. Rhine immediately frowned. "You're a Princess. Stop messing around with this and go rest."
Lunethia stuck her tongue out at him, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "Who says a Princess can't clean? I told you before—I did plenty for myself back at the castle."
With that, she lowered her head and went back to work, meticulously clearing away the splinters and dust from the floor.
Rhine watched her for a moment, but didn't say another word. They worked in a comfortable, busy silence. Within the dilapidated walls, the only sounds were the scraping of timber and the mournful howl of the blizzard through the broken window frames.
Before long, a large patch of the main hall had been cleared of debris. Rhine stood up, clapping the dust from his palms.
"That's enough," he said. "This space is plenty for the seven of us to rest. We can ignore the rest of the junk." He glanced toward Lunethia. "Sit down and take a breather."
Lunethia, slightly out of breath from the exertion, wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm. She looked up at Rhine and offered him a relaxed, genuine smile.
"Alright... a rest sounds perfect."
Her smile was dazzling—clear and pure as the first rays of spring sunlight. For a heartbeat, Rhine found himself staring, completely entranced.
Noticing his lack of response, Lunethia knit her brow in confusion. "Rhine?" She leaned in closer, peering into his face. "What's wrong? Is there something on my face?"
She instinctively touched her cheek, wondering if she had smeared soot or dust across her skin.
Rhine snapped back to reality. He let out a sharp, forced cough and jerked his gaze away, dropping unceremoniously to sit on the floor. "It's nothing."
Lunethia clearly didn't buy it. She sat down beside him, leaning forward to close the distance as she pressed him further. "Are you sure? Truly?" She blinked, her expression a mix of sincerity and bewilderment. "Is my expression that strange? Or... did I really get something on me?"
Her sudden proximity sent Rhine's heart into a frantic, uneven rhythm. Panicked, he reached out and gave her a light, clumsy shove to put some distance between them.
"I said it's nothing!" he barked, looking anywhere but at her. "I just... looking at you made me realize something—"
Though she was a bit annoyed at being pushed, Lunethia didn't interrupt. She simply waited for him to finish.
Rhine scratched the back of his head, trying his best to sound nonchalant. "Your skin... it really is as white as the snow. I should probably just call you 'White' from now on. It'd be more fitting."
Lunethia's eyes immediately narrowed, her cheeks puffing out in a sharp pout.
"You're making fun of me."
Rhine waved his hands frantically. "I'm not—"
"Ah, the vigor of youth..."
A gravelly, teasing voice suddenly drifted from the side. Both of them jumped, spinning around in unison toward the sound.
Gerald, who was supposed to be in a deep, unconscious slumber, was now sprawled on the floor nearby. He was propping his chin up with both hands, watching them with an expression of intense, amused interest—as if he were front-row at a particularly entertaining play.
Rhine completely lost his composure. "Gera—you old geezer! Since when have you been awake!?"
Gerald rolled over lazily and sat up beside them, his tone as relaxed as if they were sitting at a tavern. "Oh, roughly since you said, 'Sit down and take a breather.'"
Rhine's eyes nearly bulged out. "That was ages ago! Why the hell were you just lurking there in silence!?"
Gerald shrugged, his face a mask of feigned innocence. "No reason. I woke up and realized the show was just getting to the good part, so I figured I'd stay quiet and enjoy the view."
He turned his gaze toward Lunethia, offering her a warm, friendly smile. "I don't believe we've been introduced. Who might this young lady be?"
Lunethia blinked, her posture stiffening slightly with formal politeness. "I... my name is Lunethia."
"Lunethia, is it?" Gerald nodded thoughtfully. "A fine name. And tell me, where do you hail from?"
Lunethia opened her mouth to answer—
But a heavy set of footsteps suddenly thundered from the entrance. Owen burst through the door, clutching a massive bundle of firewood. The moment his eyes landed on the seated old man, he let out a loud, accusatory shout.
"Ha! Gerald! You're finally awake!"
He dropped the timber onto the floor with a heavy thud and immediately pointed a frostbitten finger toward the door. "Get your hide out there and take your turn chopping! It's freezing enough to kill out there, and my hands are completely numb!"
Gerald let out a dry, weary chuckle and gave Lunethia a polite nod.
"My apologies, little lady. Duty calls. We'll finish our chat later."
Rhine glanced at the massive pile of wood Owen had dragged in and waved a hand dismissively. "Don't bother with more wood; this is plenty to last the night." He looked up at Gerald. "Old man, go help Gareth. Get those windows and doorframes patched up so we can actually get some sleep."
Once Gerald left, Rhine drew his longblade from his waist and struck the back of the steel with a flint several times.
Clang—!
Sparks flew. In the next heartbeat, a pale yellow flame ignited along the length of the blade, its light dancing softly against the shadows of the room. Rhine thrust the sword into the dirt floor, allowing the localized heat to slowly coax the damp firewood into a blaze.
"White," he said, not looking up. "Go help Rena and Milia." He then shifted his gaze to Owen. "Owen, stay here. Hack these logs into smaller kindling."
Lunethia's eyes snapped toward him, a retort on the tip of her tongue. "You—!"
But she hesitated, the word dying in her throat.
...Is my skin really that white?
She looked down at her hands, Rhine's comment echoing in her mind. A strange sense of self-consciousness took hold of her. Does it make me look... strange?
Lunethia gave a small, quiet huff, deciding not to argue further. She turned and headed toward the back of the house to find Rena and Milia.
After some time, the group finally had everything in order.
A central bonfire crackled in the middle of the hall, its warm orange glow successfully driving the biting chill from the room. The seven of them sat huddled around the flames, sipping hot soup and gnawing on hunks of hard, dry bread. Outside, the blizzard continued its relentless shriek, but inside, the air had finally turned tolerable.
Gerald took a long pull of soup from his wooden bowl before finally breaking the silence.
"So—where exactly are we? And what the hell has happened while I was under?"
Rhine answered between mouthfuls of bread, his tone casual. "We're trekking toward Starfall Cliff. The plan is to lay low there for a few days."
Gerald stiffened slightly.
"Starfall Cliff?" His brow slowly furrowed as a memory clawed its way to the surface. "It seems... I really did have a prophetic dream this time."
Every head at the fire turned toward him instantly.
Gerald rubbed his chin, looking genuinely perplexed. "I dreamed that all of you were searching for a place to hide, and in that dream, I was the one who suggested Starfall Cliff." He shook his head, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I never expected that in reality, you all actually intended to go there."
His eyes suddenly narrowed as he looked at Rhine. "Wait... the rest of them shouldn't even know that place exists. Did you let my secret hideout slip, Rhine?"
Rena shook her head gently. "It wasn't Rhine." She offered a small, knowing smile and pointed toward Lunethia. "It was Thea who told us. She said you were the one who gave her the location while you were dreaming."
Gerald blinked. "Thea?"
"Oh, right—you didn't know," Rena explained with a chuckle. "Thea is her nickname. Her full name is Lunethia Velsaris." She paused, then added a more startling detail: "And apparently, she has the ability to speak with you while you're asleep. Do you have any memory of that?"
Gerald turned toward Lunethia, his gaze shifting from confusion to deep, academic curiosity. "Communicating with me... while I sleep?"
Owen jumped in immediately, his voice loud and accusatory. "Yeah! She told you to punch me, and you actually sat bolt upright and clocked me one!"
Gerald froze. "...Huh?"
He knit his brows, sifting through the foggy remnants of his long slumber. "I do recall dreaming about a particularly punchable face hovering nearby... and then someone else asked me to give the fellow a good thrashing."
He looked at Owen, his eyes turning mischievous and meaningful. "So... that wasn't a dream after all?"
Lunethia, caught up in the wonder of the revelation, couldn't help but lean forward and ask, "Do you actually remember talking to me, then? In the dream?"
Gerald fell into deep thought for a long moment, but eventually, he shook his head with a sigh.
"I'm sorry. Things that happen in dreams are notoriously difficult to hold onto once you're awake."
Lunethia's head dipped slightly, a small flicker of disappointment crossing her features. "I see..." She quickly forced a polite smile. "It's alright. I understand."
Gerald watched her, his expression growing contemplative. "If you truly can communicate with me while I'm under... then that changes things. Significantly."
He looked at her with newfound intensity. "Listen. In a moment, I'm going to write down a few specific questions—things that only Rhine and I know the answers to. Once I fall back asleep, I want you to try and get those answers from me."
He offered her a faint, encouraging smile. "If you come back with the right information... then you might truly be the savior this group needs."
Lunethia shook her head gently, her smile soft and humble. "You're overstating my importance."
Rhine waved a hand, steering the conversation back to the task at hand. "Enough of that. Since you're actually conscious for once, I'm going to run the plan by you."
With that, he laid out everything that had transpired over the past few days—from their narrow escapes to the plan of seeking sanctuary at Starfall Cliff. Outside, the blizzard continued to roar, but for the time being, this broken shack served as a defiant sanctuary against the storm.
The bonfire burned steadily in the center of the hall, its orange light casting long, flickering shadows against the mottled wooden walls. The wind still battered the broken window frames, but a heavy sense of warmth and exhaustion had begun to settle over the room.
Rhine let out a massive yawn, rubbing the corners of his eyes. "Old man," he muttered lazily. "Since you've decided to rejoin the living, I assume you aren't going to pass out again immediately?"
He stretched his limbs with a groan. "Good. Because I'm turning in. Using my attribute all day has left me drained."
Without waiting for a reply, he picked a random corner, flopped onto the floor, and was asleep almost the moment his eyes closed.
Perhaps because of their unwavering trust in Gerald, the others didn't dwell on the situation further. One by one, they found spots around the fire, wrapping themselves in their cloaks or leaning against the weathered walls, and soon fell into a deep, rhythmic slumber.
Before long, the only sound left in the room was the soft, rhythmic crackle of the flames.
Only Lunethia remained awake. She stood up quietly and made her way over to Gerald, taking a seat beside him.
Gerald looked a bit surprised. He slowly stood up and offered her a subtle, respectful bow.
"Princess Lunethia."
Lunethia immediately grew flustered, waving her hands in a frantic gesture. "Oh... please, don't do that. I'm not exactly used to people bowing to me."
Gerald couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "A Princess who isn't used to a formal bow?" He shook his head, a look of amusement on his face. "Now that is unusual."
He paused, a sudden thought making him laugh again. "But then again—since we have a Prince who doesn't even know how to bow, I suppose a Princess who is uncomfortable receiving one isn't all that strange after all."
Lunethia blinked. "A Prince who doesn't know how to bow?" She caught on quickly, a light laugh escaping her lips. "Are you talking about Rhine? I recall the others mentioning that he and Karl are both Princes."
Gerald nodded. "That's right." He looked over at the fast-asleep Rhine in the corner, his voice carrying a trace of helpless affection. "But that brat... no matter how you look at him, he doesn't have a royal bone in his body. He's the Prince of an empire descended from the Sun God, yet he acts nothing like a member of the bloodline."
Lunethia laughed softly. "Though, compared to Rhine, I'd say Karl feels much more like the 'Sun.'" She thought for a second, then added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Rhine... well, he's more like a puppy."
Gerald burst out laughing. "A remarkably accurate description." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose having golden hair gives him a bit of an advantage in the 'Sun' department, regardless of his attitude."
He then tilted his head toward Lunethia, his tone shifting into one of playful, meaningful curiosity.
"So tell me, Lunethia—are you fond of puppies?"
Lunethia paused, considering the thought.
"Puppies..." A gentle smile played at the corners of her mouth as she looked down at her hands. "I've always liked them. They're so full of spirit, and they always seem so happy."
She hesitated, then added with a helpless little laugh, "Though... they can be quite naughty sometimes. They don't always listen to what they're told."
Gerald nodded, his eyes twinkling. "And what about a 'puppy' like Rhine?"
Lunethia blinked. "Hmm?"
"Do you have any thoughts about him?" Gerald pressed, his tone leisurely.
Lunethia took the question seriously, thinking it over. "Him..." She stole a glance at Rhine, who was still dead to the world in his corner. "He'd probably spend every single day picking fights with every other dog in the neighborhood."
Gerald couldn't hold back a sudden burst of laughter. "That's not quite what I meant." He waved a hand dismissively. "I mean—could you ever see yourself liking him? In the way... well, the way a man and a woman like each other?"
Lunethia froze. A faint, unmistakable flush of crimson began to creep across her cheeks. For a moment, she found herself completely at a loss for words.
She cast a furtive glance at the man sitting across from her. Gerald looked to be in his early thirties, with a tall, powerful frame, sharp features, and an aura of calm wisdom. Yet, for all his gravity, he seemed to possess a mischievous streak a mile wide.
Just then, she remembered the way Rhine constantly referred to him as an "old man." Driven by curiosity—and a desperate need to change the subject—she finally spoke up.
"Um... why does Rhine always call you an 'elder'?" She studied his face, her confusion evident. "You clearly look quite young."
Gerald let out a soft, knowing laugh. He reached out, picked up a stray piece of kindling, and tossed it into the bonfire. The dry wood was instantly swallowed by the flames, crackling loudly as it burned.
The firelight danced across his profile, casting shifting shadows over his features.
"Actually, the question is—why does Rhine always call me an 'old geezer'?" He turned to Lunethia, his smile growing heavy with subtext.
"Don't try to deny it; I know that brat would never use a term as respectful as 'Elder' for me."
He shook his head gently, a wry smirk tugging at his lips. "To him, I've only ever been the 'Old Geezer.'"
Lunethia offered a silent, sheepish nod.
Gerald leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. His eyes seemed to pierce through the rotting timber of the shack, traveling back through the veil of time to that one shadowed, pivotable day.
"To understand that, we have to go back... back to the very day the Great Solaria Empire crumbled into ash."
He let out a long, heavy breath, his voice turning distant and profound. "They call it the First Year of the Lunaris Calendar now, don't they? A name to mark the end of our world. I can still see it vividly—the day the magical legions of Lunaris breached the gates of the Imperial Capital. Back then..."
He paused, his eyes clouding with the smoke of a memory ten years old. "...The Prince was nothing more than a small boy of eight."