Nalin's POV
Seren wasn't in the garden maze.
I waited until half past midnight, hiding in the shadows with the knife clutched in my frozen hand. The guards had fallen asleep at their posts—I'd made the hallway so cold they had no choice but to huddle together for warmth.
But Seren never came.
Something was wrong.
I crept back toward the palace, my bare feet silent on the frost-covered grass. Every window was dark except one—the ballroom on the second floor. Golden light spilled out, and I could hear music. Laughter.
A party. At midnight. On the night before my execution.
I climbed the garden trellis, ice forming handholds wherever I needed them. My magic was getting stronger, listening to my thoughts even when I didn't speak them out loud.
I reached the ballroom window and looked inside.
My father danced with Mother. Elara spun in Davren's arms, her joy-magic making them glow like stars. Nobles drank and celebrated.
And in the corner, tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth, was Seren.
Her face was bruised. Blood dripped from her nose. She'd been beaten.
My ice magic exploded outward, cracking the window.
Everyone in the ballroom froze, turning toward the sound. Toward me, hanging outside the window like a ghost, frost spreading across the glass in spiderweb patterns.
"Nalin!" Father roared.
I dropped to the ground and ran.
Behind me, I heard shouting. Guards poured from the palace like ants from a kicked nest. Magic lit up the night—fire, shadows, blinding light—all aimed at me.
But I was faster. My ice magic created a path in front of me, freezing the ground so I could slide like I was skating. Trees bent out of my way. The garden gates burst open before I reached them.
I ran toward the city, toward the slums where no nobles would follow, toward anywhere that wasn't here.
"FIND HER!" Father's voice echoed across the grounds. "BRING ME THE HOLLOW PRINCESS, DEAD OR ALIVE!"
Dead or alive. He'd finally said it out loud.
I ran until my lungs burned, until the palace was just a glow on the horizon behind me. I collapsed in an alley, gasping, my whole body shaking.
They had Seren. My only friend, and they had her.
I should go back. I should save her.
But heavy footsteps echoed at the alley entrance. I looked up and saw Commander Thorne, alone, his sword drawn.
"Your Highness," he said quietly. "It's over."
They didn't take me back to the palace.
Instead, Thorne loaded me into a prison wagon with chains so tight I could barely breathe. But even these chains started freezing, ice crawling over the iron like living vines.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked.
"The Frostlands," Thorne said. He wouldn't look at me. "Straight to the Glacial Sanctum. Your father decided not to wait. You're too dangerous to keep in the capital."
"What about Seren?"
Finally, his eyes met mine. They were full of guilt. "She's alive. Barely. They beat her pretty badly when she tried to help you escape."
"I didn't ask for her help."
"She loves you anyway." He climbed onto the driver's seat. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. You deserved better than this."
"Then let me go."
"I can't. My own daughter is sick, Princess. If I disobey the emperor, he'll make sure she never gets the medicine she needs." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The wagon lurched forward.
Through the barred window, I watched my city disappear. The place I'd lived my whole life, never happy but at least alive. Now I was leaving it forever.
To die.
Day One of Travel
The temperature dropped as we headed north. Snow started falling even though it was summer. This wasn't natural snow—this was Frostland snow, the kind that never melted, that killed anything it touched.
"Tell me about the Ice Warden," I said to Thorne.
He was quiet for a long time. Then: "He's a monster. A demon made of ice and rage. He's been locked in the Sanctum for three hundred years, eating anyone the empire sends him."
"Why does he eat people?"
"Because he feeds on the absence of emotion. The emptiness where feelings should be." Thorne glanced back at me. "That's why they send people like you. The emotionless. He can smell it on them."
"But I have emotions now," I said. "I have magic. Doesn't that mean I'm not empty anymore?"
Thorne frowned. "I... I don't know."
"How many people has the empire sent to him?"
"Maybe a dozen. Over three centuries."
I did the math in my head. "That's one person every twenty-five years. If he needs to eat to survive, how does he live between sacrifices?"
Thorne opened his mouth. Closed it. "I don't know."
"The story doesn't make sense," I said. "Nothing about this makes sense."
Day Two of Travel
We entered the true Frostlands. Everything here was dead—frozen trees, frozen ground, frozen air. Even breathing hurt.
My ice magic felt stronger here. Like it was coming home.
"Commander," I said. "What if the stories are wrong? What if the Ice Warden isn't what they say he is?"
"Then what is he?"
"I don't know. But my father was terrified when my magic awakened. Not angry. Terrified." I looked at my frost-covered hands. "What if the empire has been lying about everything? About magic, about emotions, about what really happened three hundred years ago?"
"That's treason talk."
"I'm already sentenced to death. What are they going to do, kill me twice?"
Thorne actually smiled at that. "You're different from what I expected, Princess. Smarter. Braver."
"I'm not brave. I'm just out of options."
That night, Thorne gave me an extra blanket and some of his own food. Small kindnesses from a man forced to be my executioner.
"My daughter," he said quietly. "Her name is Lyra. She's seven. She has the same curse your friend Seren mentioned—the one that makes children weak and sick for no reason."
"I've heard of it," I said. "It's been spreading through the slums for years."
"The emperor says only he has the cure. He gives it to families who serve him loyally." Thorne's face twisted with pain. "I've done terrible things to keep my daughter alive. Things I'll never forgive myself for."
"It's not your fault."
"Yes, it is. I chose to obey instead of choosing what's right." He looked at me. "But you're choosing differently, aren't you? Even now, even facing death, you're still fighting."
"I don't know how to do anything else."
Day Three of Travel
The Glacial Sanctum appeared on the horizon like a black tooth jutting from white snow.
It was massive. Beautiful and terrible. Made entirely of black ice that seemed to swallow light instead of reflecting it.
"We're here," Thorne said. His voice sounded hollow.
He helped me down from the wagon. My chains had completely frozen, turning into sculptures of ice. When he tried to unlock them, they shattered like glass.
"Your magic is incredible," he whispered. "How are you doing this?"
"I'm not. It's just... happening."
We stood at the Sanctum gates—huge doors carved with symbols I couldn't read. Ancient magic pulsed from them, making my ice magic sing in response.
"I can't go further," Thorne said. "The wards will kill anyone who enters except..." He swallowed hard. "Except the sacrifice."
"So this is goodbye."
"Yes." He pulled something from his pocket—a small metal compass. "Take this. It belonged to my mother. She always said it pointed toward hope, not north."
I took the compass. It was warm in my frozen hand.
"Tell your daughter you tried to save me," I said. "Tell her there are still good people in the world."
Tears ran down Thorne's scarred face. "I will. I'm sorry, Princess Nalin. For everything."
He turned and walked back to the wagon. I watched him leave, getting smaller and smaller until he disappeared into the white snow.
Then I was alone.
I faced the black gates and put my hand against the ice.
The gates recognized me. I felt it—a shock of connection, like meeting someone you'd known in a dream. The symbols glowed blue, then white, then exploded with light.
The gates opened.
Inside was darkness. Pure, absolute darkness.
And from that darkness, a voice spoke. Deep and cold and ancient and somehow familiar:
"Finally. After three hundred years of waiting, you've come home."
Not "welcome."
Not "I'll devour you now."
Home.
The voice knew me. Recognized me.
But I'd never been here before in my life.
I stepped through the gates, and they closed behind me with a sound like breaking bones.
No going back now.
The darkness swallowed me whole, and all I could hear was that voice, whispering:
"Let me show you what you really are."