The wind howled like a wounded beast as Serin led the small squad through the narrow mountain passes. The snow was knee-deep, and every step was a battle against the elements.
"Why are we following a traitor?" one of the younger soldiers muttered, loud enough for her to hear.
Serin didn't turn around. She didn't need to. "You are following your King's orders. If you prefer to stay behind and freeze, feel free to stop walking."
The soldier fell silent.
That night, they made camp in a shallow cave. As the men slept, Serin sat by the entrance, watching the swirling white void outside. She reached into her tunic and pulled out a small, silver token. It was the royal seal Vaelor had pressed into her hand before she departed.
"Come back," he had whispered, so low she thought she imagined it. "Not as a soldier. Not as a weapon. Just… come back."
She closed her eyes, feeling the cold metal against her palm. She had spent her life burning things down. For the first time, she wanted to build something—even if it was built on ashes.