The silence of the North had become Zaliyah's constant companion over the last four months. The "White Paradise" was now in the deep of Mid-Winter, where the sun only appeared for a few hours a day.
Inside the castle, Zaliyah stood by the window of the nursery, his reflection caught in the frost-rimmed glass. He was no longer the frail, hollow-cheeked boy who had tumbled into the snow like a broken bird. The four months of "The Great Consumption" a period of rest and indulgence coupled with the rich Northwest cream and the meticulous care of the twins, had filled him out beautifully.
His silver hair was had grown so long it brushed against his lower back, nearly reaching his buttocks. It was a chore to manage, but he refused to cut it, seeing it as a testament to the time he had survived in this cold fortress. His stomach had grown pass that small bump, it was a now prominent swell that dominated his frame. It was a rounded weight that made every movement an effort.
