A cold wind swept in through the open window, carrying with it a faint, sulfuric scent, a reminder of the dragons' lineage deep within the bloodline of the House Varyssane. It hit the small, shivering body curled in the furthermost corner of a queen-sized bed. A loud echo of an ongoing celebration full of laughter could be heard from a close distance, a stark contrast to the cold room without warmth.
The quivering little body on the bed is the firstborn twin, Issol of the House Varyssane, a house known for twin births and unique bloodlines inherited from the purest and ancient bloodlines of dragons.
The room around her was dim, lit only by a dying candle on a cracked stand. The stone walls seemed to breathe cold and bone-chilling air.
As frost touched the window edges, cold air seeped through, brushing past the heavy drapes that had not been drawn in days, and dust floated in the stillness. Forgotten.
A loud burst of laughter echoed again from the east wing, just close enough to be heard by the shivering Issol. It was a celebration held to celebrate the birthday of the twin sisters of the House of Varyssane, to mark the last stage of being Cinderbound before young adulthood.
It was the same house, the same birthday, but only one child, Issel, was celebrated.
Down the grand hall, guests toasted beneath golden chandeliers. Silk dresses spun in the ballroom. Fireflies glowed in crystal jars.
But here, at the far edge of the estate, where the walls were older, and the borders thinned between the world and the underworld, the other twin, Issol, lay alone in the biting cold, almost at death's gate.
Her name meant isolated. And it fit her like skin, while Issel meant to be loved and shining light, their parents hoping Issel's light could reach Issol. But ironically, they were the culprit who put their other child in the dark state she was in by favouring one and neglecting the other.
No one knocked nor came to check on Issol, even her twin, who was rumored to love and care for her. Only silence and the bitter smell of loneliness filled the cold room.
Then, the door creaked.
A maid stepped in abruptly, clutching a thin shawl around her shoulders. Her breath fogged the air as she looked around with unease.
"I didn't forget you, Miss," she muttered softly, setting a small tray down beside the bed. "But we mustn't let them hear me say that."
Issol didn't answer. Her eyes remained half-lidded and unfocused as if in delirium, staring at nothing.
Only the candle flickered in response.
The maid, not minding another bout of chilled wind, rushed to close the window, silently cursing the one who had opened it. But unfortunately, the frame was stiff, stuck frozenly in place. So she tugged harder in despair, her fingers turning red from the frost biting at her skin, but the glass still wouldn't budge.
After a few failed attempts, she gave up with a soft grunt and turned to the bed, where the small figure still quivered intensely as if about to break. The maid moved quickly, not caring about the cold creeping into her own shawl, and knelt beside Issol, using her body to block the cold wind, wrapping her warm hands around the girl's frozen fingers.
But she could not help but cry silently when she heard a crack from the frozen, bony fingers—so small, yet so sharp that it could cut through her chest. Her hot tears fell, hitting the stiff hands as if trying to breathe life back into them.
And miraculously, something indeed stirred.
The unfocused, mismatched eyes—one cold blue, the other fiery red blinked with slight quivering as if the act itself was draining for her. They shifted, just slightly, to watch the bowed head of the maid kneeling beside her, shielding her from the wind and crying silently.
Issol watched the maid shed those tears— hot, human tears on her frozen hands.
Although it wasn't enough to thaw her icy fingers, she felt the fleeting warmth.
Her thoughts were all over the place, with the continuous aching and thumping in her head.
With the steady drop of tears, Issol felt how truly tragic her life was, as she had always been a castaway child. In her former life, both of her Parents were unknown. She was always on the streets, bullied and fed dog food by stronger beggars. She had died at the early age of six, choking on a coin she had tried to hide from her bullies. And then, she had woken up in the body of baby Issol the moment she was born, stealing the child's opportunity to see the world.
Coming back to life like that, in that state, had been too difficult to accept. So confusing that she did not even smile after being born, unlike the other twin. She hadn't shown any expression.
And just when she had begun to come to terms with her strange reality and felt truly happy, her fate was decided again. This time, by her new parents, by giving two contrasting names to her and her twin. Naming her Issol, which meant isolation, and her twin Issel, the opposite of hers. As if it wasn't enough, they made sure the names stuck by favoring one and neglecting the other.
She tried putting efforts by smiling, laughing, and waving her tiny hands, all to catch their attention.
But all for naught.
They had already set their hearts on one. And the space in those hearts was too small to contain the other.
But she still didn't give up immediately. She tried until she was a month old. But still, nothing changed. So she resigned herself to her fate.
What could a baby do? One who only had enough strength to nap and eat?
And for a baby dragon, a month old was just like the newborn stage of a human child.
She decided to put all her focus on food and her peace, as those were the things she had no license to in her former life. She doesn't care if she was ignored and not favored by her parents, as she never had that in her previous life, never craved it, as she didn't know what it felt like to have it.
And besides, her twin, Issel, seemed to be the embodiment of what her name promised—always warm and always reaching out to her.
She was content, then. Although her world was small, it had two familiar people, Issel and this maid, Fuer, now crying quietly by her bedside.
And all was good.
But even all that became a luxury.
It happened when Issel became the second person in all of the House of Dragons to awaken her elemental magic at the rare age of three. A female dragon at that.
The difference between them became even more obvious when she could not call her own elemental magic nor use it at the right age for her to blossom.
And then, her already strange eyes began to change. One turned fully fiery red, the other blue deepened into something more bone-chilling and unnatural.
She hated her life then.
And all that she found comfort in became hard to have.
And now, here she was, lying on the bed— seriously ill and deserted in this cold room.
She was not even celebrated on her most important day, her birthday, her last day of being Cinderbound, even though she couldn't shift or use any elemental magic.
She looked at the cold room, within the range of her fading focus, and felt the quiet truth settle in her bones.
She had lived a cursed life in both her past and present lives.
A cold tear slid from the corner of her eyes.
Fuer, the maid still crying silently with her head bowed, raised her head abruptly as another wave of cold swept through. Afraid that Issol would feel it, she quickly climbed onto the bed, using her body to shield the child.
Satisfied with her act, though shivering, she leaned closer—only to see the trail of tears frozen on her little master's cheek.
She reached out to catch one, but felt immense sadness at the cold tears.
And so another round of tears began. And this time, she cried loudly.
The sound of crying—to Issol, whose consciousness was slipping, felt far away, yet somehow closer than her own heartbeat. She blinked slowly, the weight of her lids like iron. The flickering candle behind the maid's shadow finally went out.
And the whole room was plunged into bone-chilling darkness.
She could no longer feel anything. Not even the hot tears hit her face.
Her nose was frosting.
Her lips parted slightly, dry and cracked, as if to speak to her only companion who had stayed with her until the very end.
But no sound came.
Only a faint exhale, so faint it nearly disappeared into the cold.
But she felt no regret, even as her last breath left her—
Because there was something she had this time, something she lacked in her previous life.
A companion on her deathbed.