The infirmary of Reflynne carried a warmth that didn't quite belong to a city preparing for war. Its lanterns glowed with soft amber light, enchanted to mimic the gentleness of late afternoon sun. Salves, clean linen, and healing herbs mixed into a quiet, comforting scent. It was the kind of room that let people breathe.
Kaisei Aoi stood near the window, arms folded, his silhouette tall against the drifting motes of light. His posture was disciplined, but his eyes gave away a softer thoughtfulness—unusual for someone who carried a guild's burdens.
When the door creaked, Captain Kira Sawamura stepped in.
She was small, almost delicate at first glance, with short dark hair brushing the curve of her jaw. Her presence was the opposite of imposing. It was… steady. Like a cup of warm tea placed quietly beside you before you realize your hands are shaking.
Kaisei nodded.
"Kira. Thank you for coming so quickly."
She bowed lightly. "You mentioned the child woke?"
"For a moment." Kaisei's voice lowered. "He's disoriented. Frightened. And possibly our only living witness to what happened in Frostholm. But I didn't call you for interrogation."
Her brow softened. "You want me to speak to him as a person… not a source."
"Exactly." Kaisei let out a faint breath. "You have that gift. People breathe easier around you. Let him breathe before you ask anything."
He paused, then added, "Bond first. Questions later."
Kira nodded without hesitation. "Understood."
They crossed the room to the far bed, its curtains slightly parted. The boy—no more than eight—sat propped up with pillows, wrapped in blankets much too large for him. His skin still carried a faint bluish tint from the cold that had nearly taken him. He stared at his hands, small fingers trembling without permission.
Kira approached slowly, not wanting to cast even a shadow too suddenly.
"Hello," she murmured, kneeling beside the bed. "Captain Kira Sawamura. May I sit here?"
The boy glanced up with hesitant eyes, then nodded.
She sat, folding her hands on her lap like she'd practiced the gesture a thousand times for frightened patients, recruits, and survivors.
"You're safe," she said first. "This place is warm, and no one will let the cold reach you again."
His lips parted, as if tasting the idea of safety.
Kira waited. Silence could either be a trap or a cradle; she always let it be the second.
When his breathing steadied, she asked,
"Do you remember Frostholm?"
The boy's hands clenched, but he nodded again.
Kira leaned her head slightly. "When you told the healers the ice dragons weren't sleeping… what did you mean? What were they doing?"
"I…" His gaze unfocused. "They… they were moving. Not much. But their wings, they… twitched. Like…"
He searched for the word.
"Like breathing."
Kira scribbled that down quietly. "Before the cold came… did you see them? Or only after everything froze?"
His face scrunched, frustration tugging at his features. "I… think… before. Maybe? They were on the mountain. High up."
"You're doing really well." Her voice carried no urgency. Only warmth. "How did the dragon make you feel? Angry? Scary? Or… sad?"
His eyebrows lifted. Kids didn't usually get asked how things felt.
"It was… big."
He swallowed.
"And lonely."
Kira let that settle.
She continued gently, "What is the last thing you remember, before everything turned cold? A sound? A color in the sky? A feeling?"
The boy stared past her, eyes narrowing as if trying to reach through a thick fog in his mind.
"The last thing…" He murmured. "I was playing. By the ridge. Then…"
He shook his head, small shoulders trembling.
"It's blurry. Like water."
Kira nodded. "It's alright. Blurry is still something. What about the soldiers? Did you see Valerian soldiers? What were they doing?"
"I saw them," he whispered. "They weren't fighting. They… they were running."
Kira paused her pencil. "Running?"
"Running away."
That detail she wrote with more force.
"And… did any of them look scared?"
The boy nodded slowly. "Yes. They looked back at the mountain. Not at me."
Kira felt a quiet chill crawl through her ribs. She inhaled through her nose, grounding herself before leaning in again.
"You're doing wonderfully. If there's anything else, no matter how strange it feels, you can say it."
He hesitated.
Then, with the fragile certainty of a child trying to describe a dream that still clung to him, he said:
"I saw a big blue bird."
Kira blinked. "A bird?"
He nodded. "Blue. Bright blue. Its feathers glowed. It flew over the mountain."
Kira wrote it down… though the look she gave her notes was puzzled.
"That's very helpful. Anything else?"
The boy's eyes grew distant, as if reaching for a shape he barely remembered.
"And… a big metal monster."
Something tightened subtly in Kira's throat. "What kind of monster?"
"It… walked. And made noise. Like… like armor grinding."
He held his small hands apart, showing the size.
"Big. Bigger than a house. They were… playing together."
"Playing?"
He nodded. "The bird and the monster. They were playing in the mountains."
Kira stared at him, calm expression masking the unease stirring beneath.
"Then what happened?" she whispered.
His voice shrank.
"Everything froze."
Kira reached out, placing her palm gently over his trembling hand.
"You did very well. Rest now. You're safe."
The boy relaxed, eyes fluttering closed.
Kaisei watched from the doorframe, silent but impressed.
Kira closed her notebook with a soft click.
And in that warmth-lit infirmary, the strange truth of Frostholm began to take shape—through the fading, fragile memory of a child who had seen a blue bird, a metal monster, and the moment a world turned to ice.