1217-08-20
Jude:
The blankets around me were warm. Comfort—a fleeting luxury in a place like this.
If this works... The thought lingered in my mind. If this works, we could sell it—the most valuable gem in the world. With that, we'd have enough to leave this place behind. No, more than that. Gold and I wouldn't leave. We'd stay, we'd rule this country. With Shatar's help, we'd give everyone what they truly needed.
They were my family. More than Tobe ever was. More than the friends I'd left behind.
I had left Tobe hoping for a better life, and in some ways, I'd found it here. It wasn't perfect, but it was mine. I had learned to love this cold land, its biting winds, and its endless winters. This palace, despite its chill, had become a place of warmth for me. Gold, Leader, Books—even Warwick, though we rarely spoke—they were my home now.
A part of me believed I would die here. Another part of me wasn't sure. The uncertainty gnawed at me.
I thought of Milton. I had only met him twice. The first time was during orientation—a formality, stiff and forgettable. But the second... That was when he betrayed me. He'd sold me out, told them I believed what Adrian Kundra had said.
Adrian Kundra.
A few days after that kiss with the sister of the Perfect One, it all began to fall apart. I had been mysteriously dragged from my dorm and taken to an interview with Milton.
He didn't mince words. They claimed the sister had told them everything—my belief in Adrian Kundra, my suspicions about this place, and even the books I'd been keeping. Books that didn't belong.
They said the books had been confiscated and that I would remain imprisoned until I "changed my mind." But I never did.
Never trust a Marano, I muttered under my breath.
The thought lingered as the blaring sound of trumpets cut through the frozen air of the city, echoing like a call to arms. The cold was ever-present, but I barely noticed it anymore. My hair, now completely silver, shimmered in the pale morning light.
Gold jolted awake beside me. She looked like she wanted to say something. We didn't. There wasn't time. Milton is waiting for us. Instead, we exchanged small glances. In silence, it felt as if we had spoken volumes.
Her eyes asked, Are you sure you want to do this?
I gave a faint nod, answering her unspoken question. I have to.
Opening the door, I found Warwick standing there, his expression as steady as always. We exchanged curt nods before heading toward the docks together.
I hadn't been back to the docks since my first day here—the day of the scuffle. It felt like a lifetime ago, though it had been less than a month. Twenty or thirty days, perhaps. Time was difficult to track in this place.
And yet, somehow, I had grown close to the people here.
At the end of the dock, an armada of ships waited, their masts proudly displaying the flag of Marano. Half purple and half red, split vertically, with a purple flower emblazoned on the red side.
It was a flag I knew all too well.
Over the past few days, we had come together to design a flag—a symbol that stood in direct opposition to Marano. Where their colors flaunted power and ambition, ours represented defiance and survival.
A blue and white flag, cut diagonally to evoke the snow and ice that plagued this land. It wasn't just a flag; it was a statement. It was ours, and ours alone.
The inspiration came from Snow, the dragon that had been with me and Gold. The dragon that defied fate itself.
Snow walked alongside Warwick and I. The icy wind is biting at our faces.
Hundreds of ships lined the docks, and even more filled the waters beyond. Warwick, as always, stood calm beside me, as though this was just another day. This wasn't the first time he had witnessed this.
At the far end of the dock, buckets of fish were piled high. More food than we had seen in months. While some of us had been able to fish, the cold often made it nearly impossible to cut through the frozen layers of ice.
Their ships, however, moved through the ice as if it were paper. Massive vessels, their hulls reinforced to dominate even the harshest seas.
And then, King Milton emerged from one of the largest ships. The wooden bridge extended onto our dock, and with it came his presence—a commanding aura laced with cruelty.
A sadistic smile spread across his face as he strode forward. His long blond hair, golden like fire, flowed against the icy wind, and his striking red eyes seemed to glow in the snow.
Milton stopped at the edge of the dock, flanked by four or five guards. I could tell they were watching every move, ready to act at the slightest sign of trouble. If anything happened to him, he'd no doubt order them to wipe us out.
His gaze lowered, his piercing eyes landing on Snow.
King Milton stood at the edge of the dock, his red eyes scanning the group before him with unnerving calm. He took a slow step forward, his voice smooth and deliberate.
"It's so cold," he shivers. "I don't know how anyone can survive here."
We nod in agreement.
"So, Mathew is dead?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as if savoring the information.
"Ye, my lord," Warwick replied, his voice almost reluctant. "He died recently."
Milton's lips twisted into a slight, cold smile. "Pity. I was hoping they'd change his mind."
His eyes flicked over to Warwick, who stood stoically at my side. Then, he moved on to the next question, as though the leader's death was a mere detail.
"And what of the women? Ramona? Still around, I presume?"
Again, the answer was the same: "No, she's gone too. She died recently. The cold... took her."
Milton's expression remained unchanged, but his eyes narrowed, something darker flickering behind them.
"I see." He paused, as if deciding whether to press further. Then, with a slight shift of his stance, he asked, "And Aurelie? My daughter?"
I hesitated for a moment before speaking, dreading the question. "She's dead. She didn't survive the cold."
"My daughter?".
"Children don't often survive here," Warwick interjected coldly.
Milton's smile widened. "The dragons... surviving. It looks full." He glanced over at Snow, his gaze calculating.
I stepped forward, placing my foot in front of Snow, blocking Milton's view. A slow smile crept across Milton's face.
"My daughter... my true daughter," Milton said, his tone dark. "She needs a pet."
"Snow's not going anywhere!" I yelled, my voice breaking with fury.
Milton chuckled. "You're attached to it… that's unfortunate."
He nodded to one of his guards. They moved toward us. I could feel every part of me wanting to fight, to attack, but I knew it would be useless.
"The useless don't deserve a dragon," Milton laughed.
"And thanks to you, I need to delay the rituals. I hope you understand."
If the cost of our lives was a single dragon, and if that's the price, it was one I was willing to pay.
Milton's voice felt hollow, like it belonged to someone else.
"And why was she sent here, exactly? Why send her to this miserable place?"
He smirked, as if my question was an inconvenience to him. "She spoke with you? So, she's alive, then?"
I bit my lip, refusing to show any weakness. "She died mere days after telling me. Why? Why send her to this... this nightmare?"
Milton's expression shifted slightly, a glimmer of something dark flashing in his eyes.
"Only the strong survive in Marano. The weak don't belong. Her daughter was a ... mistake." he said, his gaze narrowing as it landed on me, "If you had survived your spirit would have been great."
"And you can make that decision on a soul that hasn't even been realized?" I said, my voice thick with bitterness.
King Milton raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Her soul was realized, yet it proved useless to me. Imagine, if I were to stop sending you food, you'd wither away in mere weeks."
I bristled at his words. I held my tongue.
He chuckled darkly, his red eyes gleaming. "I would have taken you back, you know. Had you agreed to come back with me. You could have been a powerful dragon knight"
He paused, letting out a slow breath, "... I'm not disappointed, really. The child dying with her was... almost poetic."
At that moment, Warwick shifted, catching Milton's gaze. It was clear from his stance that the tension had reached its peak.
THUD
But before we could speak further, the sound caught Milton's attention—something in the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly to the side. The noise of a distant thud echoed across the docks.
Milton stiffened, but his gaze flickered back to Warwick and me, as if weighing his options.
For a split second, the world seemed to slow. It was as if Milton realized too late that they were on the boat—if they left, they would die.
My instincts kicked in. I drew my ice-cold sword. I ran as fast as I could.I had to regain Milton's attention—make him understand that I wasn't just standing by anymore.
The cold air bit at my skin, but I didn't care. All that mattered was stopping him.
Milton raised his sword to block, his laughter ringing out.
"Have you gone mad?" he taunted.
The guards, in an instant, surged forward, but Warwick and I moved as one. We fought with precision. We took down as many guards as we could. The icy air was filled with the sounds of battle—sword strikes, shouts, and the clash of steel on steel.
Milton, despite being caught off guard, was quick to react. He twisted his sword, slicing through the chaos. I felt the sting of a blade across my side before I could react, but I kept moving, knowing this fight wasn't over yet.
"I'll let this one go... after all, it's a new face. Probably gone mad from the cold, eh?"
He smirked, eyes glinting with a sadistic delight as he watched us struggle.
That was the last thing I heard before everything blurred. The world spun in a final, painful moment, my vision fading as blood soaked into the snow.I couldn't even tell what the fate of Warwick was.
Gold Perspective:
I'm on the boat, shaking as the wind cuts through me. Bodies lie scattered on the docks—frozen, lifeless.
Then I see him.
Jude falls to the ground, his body slumping in the snow like a broken doll. His fall is too sudden, too heavy, and a part of me wants to scream. But I can't.
I open my mouth. I wanted to shout his name. A cold hand presses over my mouth.
Books. Her fingers are firm, but there's an urgency in her grip—telling me to stay quiet. Telling me to stay calm.
She doesn't let go, doesn't speak, just holds me still. Her gaze is fixed on the boat ahead, her mind clearly somewhere else. For a moment, we don't move.
I know she's crying. I can feel it, even without seeing the tears. Her body shudders with every breath, but she won't let me go. She won't let me do anything stupid.
My eyes meet Snow's. She fights against the grip of the guard. Struggling to break free.
A trumpet rings out signaling a retreat. The boat rocks beneath me as we pull away from the shore. We headed into the dark, unforgiving water. The cold should be unbearable, but I can't feel it. Not now.
I look back once more. The dock is a mess of bodies and blood, the air thick with the stench of violence. I can hear the faint sound of shouts—orders being barked, confusion still lingering in the distance.