Sally bent low, slipping her arms beneath the small figure nestled within the fragments of crystal. The girl's body felt insubstantial, so light that Sally feared she might vanish if she held too tightly. Yet there was warmth there too—faint, but real.
Sally pressed the child close, the faint shimmer of her crimson eyes softening. "Leon," she murmured, "let's leave before the sky turns dark. Alfred is waiting for us."
Leon gave a quiet nod. His hand lingered a moment on the hilt of his sword before he turned toward the cavern's mouth.
Together, they stepped out into the world above.
---
Snow stretched wide and endless, a pure sheet of silver beneath the fading light. Pine trees rose like black pillars around them, their branches bent low with frost, sentinels in the cold. The air was sharp, slicing through their clothes, yet bracing after the stifling cavern air.
Their boots sank into the snow with each step. Crunch. Crunch. The sound filled the silence, steady as a heartbeat. Sally tightened her grip around the child whenever the wind rose, her magic flowing like invisible threads to keep the girl wrapped in warmth.
Leon's eyes scanned the horizon with a soldier's vigilance. The forest was quiet, too quiet, as if even the animals had learned to give this land a wide berth. Only the sound of their footsteps and the muffled breath of horses waiting ahead broke the stillness.
Through the trees, the dark outline of their carriage emerged. Snow clung to its wheels, its lanterns dimmed, but the horses pawed the ground impatiently, huffing clouds of white into the air.
Relief flickered across Leon's face. He quickened his pace, boots cutting deeper prints into the snow. Sally followed, clutching the child as though she carried something infinitely precious.
The coachman, startled from his drowsy wait, scrambled to attention as they approached. Leon waved him off with a curt nod, ushering Sally inside first.
---
The interior was colder than stone, the air sharp enough to sting her lungs. Sally settled into the seat, still cradling the child. She whispered a soft chant. Her hands glowed faintly, threads of warmth weaving into the blanket. The fabric shimmered, then pulsed gently, as if it had taken on a life of its own.
The child's face softened in sleep, a faint sigh escaping her lips. Sally brushed a strand of silver hair away, her touch careful, reverent.
Leon slid onto the opposite seat, his armor creaking faintly. For a moment, silence filled the carriage. He studied them both, then said quietly, "You always think of everything."
A small smile curved her lips. "And you always worry about everything."
He allowed himself the faintest chuckle, though the sound was short-lived. His gaze drifted to the girl, then beyond, as though he could already sense the storms her existence might bring.
---
The wheels rolled steadily, carrying them through the forest. Snow muffled the sound of hooves, turning the world strangely quiet. The girl's body grew heavier in Sally's arms as unconsciousness claimed her fully.
Sally's heart clenched, but she whispered another spell, wrapping warmth tighter around her. Leon's eyes flickered with concern, but he said nothing, trusting Sally's care.
The journey stretched on, the light of day slipping away behind the trees. By the time the forest thinned, night had descended fully.
And then—stone walls rose against the starry sky.
---
The castle stood vast and unyielding, its towers rising like black spires into the night. Lanterns burned along the battlements, their glow fighting back the snow that swirled endlessly through the courtyards. Ivy clung to the walls, frozen stiff, while frost clung to every crevice of stone.
It was no mere home—it was a fortress, a relic of ages past. And yet, for them, it was safety.
The gates opened slowly, groaning under their own weight. The carriage rattled across the courtyard, wheels crunching through a thin sheet of ice. Servants hurried forward, their heads bowed, their voices subdued with curiosity at the sight of Sally holding something close.
Inside, warmth met them at last.
The grand hall spread wide, its high ceilings painted with shadows and firelight. Torches lined the walls, tapestries hung heavy with age, and beneath their feet lay polished stone worn by generations.
There, waiting at the foot of the stair, stood a boy.
Golden hair caught the firelight, his blue eyes sharp but wide with worry. His posture bore discipline, his shoulders straight, yet the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
"You're back late," Alfred said.
His gaze dropped to Sally's arms. Confusion lit his features. "Mother… Father… who is this child?"
Sally's smile was gentle, but her voice carried quiet resolve. "The road delayed us," she answered. Then she drew the girl closer. "From this day, she will be part of our family. Treat her as your sister."
Alfred froze, lips parting, eyes widening. "My… sister?"
Leon stepped to his side. His hand rested firm upon his son's shoulder. "Yes. Protect her. Cherish her. As family should."
The boy's throat bobbed. His eyes wavered between the sleeping girl and his parents' steady gazes. At last, something shifted within him. His lips curled faintly, an awkward, shy smile betraying excitement he could not hide.
"I understand, Father," he said softly. "I… will."
---
Sally carried the girl into a chamber near the hearth. Firelight danced along the walls, warming the air. She laid the child onto the bed, tucking her beneath enchanted blankets. The girl did not stir, her breathing even and calm.
Sally lingered a moment, brushing her hair gently. "Rest," she whispered.
Outside, snow fell endlessly, blanketing the world. Inside, in that quiet room, a fragile seed of family was planted.
---
The child slept. Hours slipped past, the night deepened, until at last morning came.
Sunlight spilled through tall windows, catching the carved wood of beams and the shine of polished floors. The room glowed with warmth, the fireplace's embers still alive.
Her eyes opened.
Ornate beams stretched above, curtains swayed in the breeze, and the faint scent of ash lingered from the fire.
Where… am I?
The last memory was of the cavern. Light, blood, voices—then nothing.
System.
"Where am I? I thought I passed out."
Ding.
"Host, do you want me to transfer everything that occurred while you were unconscious? Yes or no."
Her soul jolted. You can do that? Yes.
A torrent of knowledge surged through her. She saw Sally carrying her, Leon watching, the journey through snow, the fortress rising, Alfred's gaze filled with confusion and wonder.
So… the alchemist truly meant to bind me. I was summoned as a tool, a puppet to be commanded. If not for the dragon, and for merging with this vessel, I would have been lost.
Her chest tightened. I survived… but what am I now?
The door creaked.
A girl peeked in. Pink hair tied neatly with a ribbon, wide brown eyes. She froze, gasped softly, and fled, skirts rustling as she ran.
Ding.
"Host, language comprehension has improved. Current progress: 45%. You can now understand fragments of speech."
Relief steadied her. Not helpless, then…
The maid returned, Sally at her side. Sally's smile warmed the room more than fire. Her words blurred, yet the tone was soothing, calming the weight in her chest.
For the first time since rebirth, she felt safe.
Then another voice sounded—a child's, high and clear, carrying the lively tone of youth.
The door opened again. Leon entered, golden hair catching the light. Beside him walked a boy. Six years, perhaps, but his eyes shone with life and curiosity.
System. Identify.
Ding.
"Confirmed: Leon's biological son. Estimated age: six. Predicted relation: soon-to-be elder brother."
Brother…?
The word felt strange, heavy. In her past life, she had never known such a bond.
The boy leaned closer, peering at her as though she were a miracle. His lips shaped words, and she caught one. "…Sister…?"
Her small hands clenched the blanket. She could not answer. But she didn't need to.
Leon's steady hand guided his son closer, his gaze softened. Sally stood nearby, crimson eyes kind.
And in that moment, she understood.
This strange world was not only prison and danger. It was offering her something she had never known before.
A family.
---