Snow crunched under hurried boots as Malric dashed across the courtyard, his fur-lined cloak trailing behind him. Alaric jogged beside him, still catching his breath.
"Hurry up!" Malric called with a grin. "We're going to be late!"
"For what exactly?" Alaric asked, his breath misting in the cold.
Malric smirked. "Your first day of official training. With me. And the knights."
They rounded a stone archway and entered the training yard where rows of knights were already lining up. At the far end, Duchess Lireya stood observing with arms crossed, dressed in light training armor.
She turned as the boys approached.
"So," she said, voice calm and warm, "you've made your decision?"
Alaric nodded, his expression resolute. "Yes, Your Grace. I want to grow strong—stronger than I ever imagined. I'll find my sister, my friends… and I'll take revenge on those who destroyed my home."
Lireya's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she offered a small smile. "A noble goal. But don't let revenge become your only reason. It can harden the heart until it loses itself."
She stepped closer, resting a gloved hand on his shoulder. "Live not only for vengeance. Live for your sister. For your parents. Let their memory give you strength, not darkness."
Alaric nodded slowly. "I will."
"Good," she said. "Then go. Train hard, and earn your path."
The three children ran to join the ranks, wooden swords in hand, ready to begin.
A Quiet Decision
Later that evening, in the duchess's study, a fire flickered behind the large desk as Marek poured tea for both himself and Lireya.
"Have you decided what to do with him?" he asked gently.
Lireya didn't answer immediately. Her fingers drummed against the edge of her chair.
"If you'll tell the royals?" he pressed.
She looked out the frost-kissed window. "No. Not yet. He'll stay here, with us. He's still growing. Let's see what the world does next before we make noise."
Marek nodded. "You're betting that he'll become more than just a boy with a legacy."
"I'm hoping he becomes a man who shapes one."
Three Years Later
The clang of wooden blades echoed across the courtyard as snow drifted lazily from the morning sky.
Now ten years old, Alaric Durnhart stood confidently in the sparring circle, his white hair tied back, his black eyes focused. His figure was lean but growing stronger with each passing year. His stance was firm, calculated.
Across from him stood a boy his age—Jorin Velthar, son of a knight and trainee of the Northern guard. He had tousled brown hair, a quick smile, and the bruises to prove a dozen past losses to Alaric.
Jorin charged, swinging wide. Alaric ducked low, twisting to the side, letting the strike pass over his shoulder. He stepped in, his blade tapping Jorin's side before the boy could recover.
"Point to Alaric!" called the watching squire.
Jorin groaned, collapsing to one knee with a laugh. "That's eight in a row."
Alaric grinned and helped him up. "You're getting faster."
"Still not fast enough."
"Not yet."
Footsteps approached.
Malric and Lira stood nearby, both dressed in matching travel cloaks.
"You lost again?" Lira teased.
"Thanks for the reminder," Jorin muttered.
"Want to come with us?" Malric asked. "We're going to the hot springs on the cliffside. Last one there gets no honeybread."
Alaric's eyes lit up. "I'm in."
They laughed as they set off together, snow crunching beneath their boots.
Shadows Beneath the Snow
In the war room of Frostgate Keep, a large table stretched across the center, covered in maps, troop charts, and monster sightings marked in red ink.
Duchess Lireya, Lord Marek, Knight-Commander Tharyn, and four captains stood around it.
Tharyn, a grizzled veteran with gray-streaked hair and a frost-lined beard, traced his gloved finger across a section of the northern border.
"The village of Harthwood has sent three distress calls," he said grimly. "Monster sightings have tripled in the last month. Three of our patrols didn't return."
Captain Virel, a broad-shouldered woman with twin axes at her back, leaned over the table. "They say something's leading them. Not just packs. They're organized."
Lireya frowned. "A commander?"
Tharyn nodded. "A Wyrm-Class beast. Possibly corrupted. Massive aura signature. Our scouts say it moves between the cliffs and caves. Tracks are enormous."
"And it's winter," Marek added, voice tight. "Snow makes every mile harder."
"We'll need two squads," Tharyn said. "Heavy shield units for defense. Mages on rotation for fire and light."
Lireya's eyes narrowed. "Prepare them. I'll lead the strike myself."
Tharyn bowed. "Yes, Duchess."
Outside, snow continued to fall—but in the shadows beyond the duchy, monsters stirred.
And one of them was waiting.