The frost sang beneath my feet.
Each step I took across the training courtyard left faint trails of white that shimmered, not from the snow, but from the mana coursing just beneath my skin. The core pulsing in my chest felt like a second heartbeat now—steady, calm, and entirely mine.
Ser Rowen stood ahead of me, framed by the gray sky and the towering pines of the north. His cloak stirred faintly in the breeze, snowflakes collecting at the hem, undisturbed by the cold.
"You're different now, Your Highness," he said the moment I approached. "Your stance. Your aura. Even your breath has changed."
I nodded. "It feels different. Like the mana listens now. Like it's… waiting."
"Good." He drew a line in the snow with the toe of his boot. "We begin your first session as an Awakened. Stage V is the threshold. From here, magic is no longer just instinct or flare—it is structure, discipline, and form."
I raised my hand slightly, letting the mana pool toward my palm. The cold followed with it, not biting, not wild—but familiar. Mine. A flick of my fingers conjured a small spear of ice, thin and sharp like glass.
Ser Rowen nodded once. "You've taken to your affinity quickly. That will serve you well. But today, we test control. Begin with three spells: one for precision, one for spread, and one for endurance."
I exhaled, watching the mist of my breath scatter, and stepped into position.
First—precision. I visualized a needle, thin as a hair, and summoned a sliver of ice that burst forward with speed. It pierced the center of a marked target with a soft crack.
"Again," Ser Rowen said.
Second—spread. I rotated my wrist, drew mana outward. A wave of frost fanned from my hand, coating several nearby dummies in a sweeping arc of white. Their limbs stiffened instantly, encased in ice.
"Again."
Third—endurance. This time I held it. A continuous stream of misty cold bled from my palms, freezing the ground, the air, the very breath between us. My arms trembled. Sweat formed despite the chill.
"Enough," Ser Rowen said sharply.
I let go.
The silence returned.
"You have strong instincts," he said, stepping forward, boots crunching against the frostbitten ground. "But instincts must become will. Will must become form. And form must become law."
I nodded slowly, chest rising and falling. "I'm ready."
He studied me for a long moment, then gave the faintest of nods. "Then we continue."
Ser Rowen raised a hand, halting me. "We move on. Ice is more than offense. It restrains, defends, preserves. You must learn to shape it with intention."
He motioned to the row of training dummies now layered in frost. With a flick of his fingers, fresh mana dispersed them into mist—clearing the field.
"Begin with restraint. Create bindings. Make them solid. Sharp. Lasting."
I inhaled, drawing the mana inward. The core pulsed steadily, mana cycling through my limbs in a flow I could now guide. I aimed toward the next dummy and imagined chains—not heavy or cumbersome, but sleek and cold like winter's breath.
Frost whirled around my wrist and lashed forward. Ribbons of ice unraveled from my hand and snapped tight around the dummy's arms and legs. Not perfect—too brittle in some parts—but it held.
Ser Rowen approached to examine the result.
"Edges are too thin. See here?" He tapped a fissure forming along the elbow of the ice chain. "If that were a Master's aura struggling against it, it would break free."
I nodded and repeated the spell, adjusting the structure—thicker coils, denser mana, a stronger anchor to the ground. This time, the bindings froze cleanly in place with a faint hiss.
"Better. Now defense. A shield."
I exhaled, focused.
This was harder. Ice was meant to pierce, to bind—not to absorb. But I tried. Mana coalesced into a curved barrier before me, forming layer by layer like frozen petals. I crouched behind it just as Ser Rowen launched a small bolt of wind magic toward me.
The gust cracked against the ice with a dull thud, and the surface splintered—but didn't shatter.
A pause.
"Impressive," Ser Rowen murmured. "Your control is improving faster than expected."
"Because I don't want to just know how to use it," I said, rising to my feet. "I want to master it."
He looked at me then—not just as a student, but as something more. A successor, perhaps. A future figure of the north.
"You have your mother's discipline and your father's force," he said quietly. "But that ambition... that is yours alone."
I flushed, unsure how to respond.
Then came the final exercise.
"Create an illusion," he said. "Not of sound or sight, but of presence. Mist. Cold. Hide your body in it. Make the air your veil."
I hesitated. This was different.
Still, I closed my eyes and steadied my breath. I reached into the core and pulled gently, letting the mana rise slowly. The temperature around me dropped. Snow thickened in the air, swirling around me in a ring.
Then I stepped back and let the frost bloom.
Mist poured out from beneath my feet, curling along the ground, rising in delicate wisps until it veiled me entirely. The air shimmered—only faintly—but enough that even I felt it: a distortion, a presence pulled just slightly out of alignment.
When I opened my eyes, Ser Rowen was no longer looking at me—but around me, scanning.
His brow furrowed. "...Where—"
His eyes snapped to my right as I stepped out of the mist.
"Good," he said, voice low with approval. "Very good."
I grinned, breath visible in the chill air.
Then the mist dissipated. The cold lingered in the stones, a fine powder of frost clinging to the ground, but the training had ended.
For now.
Ser Rowen stepped forward and placed a gloved hand briefly on my shoulder. "You've done more than enough for one morning, Your Highness."
"I can keep going—"
"No." His tone left no room for debate. "You've earned your rest. Come. There are other matters awaiting you."
The training yard had long since quieted. Even the servants had retreated indoors, their footprints already fading beneath the soft snowfall. I remained behind, standing beneath the towering pine at the edge of the grounds.
The cold no longer stung. It felt... right.
I flexed my fingers slowly, watching mana respond in subtle pulses beneath the surface of my skin. No need to reach or force—it simply came now. Like breath.
'So this is what it means to awaken.'
I walked to the edge of the courtyard wall, where a thick layer of snow had gathered on the stone railing. Brushing it aside, I sat atop it, legs dangling, eyes on the endless white stretching out beyond the estate.
The forest loomed in the distance. Quiet. Still. But not dead.
There was always movement beneath the ice. Threads woven deep in the frost and soil. Life didn't vanish—it just waited.
Like me.
In my first life, I'd clawed and scraped for every ounce of power, always chasing someone else's shadow. Here… things were different. The expectations were heavier, yes. But the path wasn't closed.
It was mine.
I summoned mana again, just enough to shape a small, flickering snowflake above my palm. It hovered there, suspended, catching the last of the pale afternoon light.
Then I let it fall.
'How far can I take this?'
There were others out there—children of noble houses, heirs of bloodlines with legacies long and storied. But none of them had formed their core yet. Not even the Crown Prince of the Empire, if I remembered the court whispers right.
I was the youngest Awakened in the Empire.
The thought settled over me not with pride—but weight. A different kind of burden. One I had asked for.
One I intended to carry.
Behind me, the wind picked up, whistling through the high arches of the stonework. I drew my cloak tighter and hopped down from the railing, boots sinking into snow.
I turned toward the manor.
There was still much to learn. Forms to master. Techniques to engrave into body and mind.
But for now… it was enough.
The frost welcomed me.
I stopped midway back to the manor, glancing toward the far corner of the courtyard where the snow lay undisturbed. A quiet patch beneath a skeletal old tree, its branches bare and black against the sky.
No one was around. Even Ser Rowen had long since returned inside.
My breath fogged the air.
'Just a little more.'
I stepped toward the tree and raised my hand again. This time, I didn't just draw the mana to my palm—I let it flow through my whole arm. It pulsed now, steady and sure, like a second heartbeat.
I extended my fingers, imagining the shape.
A shard. Long and pointed, but hollow down the middle. Laced with veins like frost on glass.
The mana obeyed.
A spear of ice formed in the air above my hand—slender, elegant, and deadly. Its tip glinted faintly in the dimming light. I turned my wrist, and the weapon followed with perfect balance, hovering in place.
I smiled.
Then I let it fly.
It soared through the air and struck the old tree with a sharp crack, embedding deep into the trunk. Frost spread outward from the impact point, webbing across the bark like veins of white lightning.
I summoned another—smaller this time. A dagger-shaped shard that I spun between my fingers before dissolving it into mist with a thought.
Then came a wall. Just a thin sheet at first, enough to block an imaginary blow. I layered it again, stacking the ice thicker, denser, until it rang with a low hum as I tapped its surface.
I circled the clearing slowly, conjuring flurries that swirled around me, letting my mana stretch and retract like muscle. At times it slipped—once icing my fingertips too quickly, another time freezing a chunk of the path where I stood—but I laughed it off.
The magic was no longer a stranger. It lived in me now.
And I could feel its hunger.
A desire to be used, to be understood, to be refined.
'I'm just getting started.'
I lifted both hands this time. The snow around my feet began to stir, twisting upward in a slow spiral. Ice bloomed from the ground like a flower, curling into jagged petals before I willed it to collapse into mist.
The snow settled again.
I stood in the center of it all, chest rising and falling, my breath fogging the quiet.
I had barely scratched the surface.
And yet… I already felt stronger than I had ever been in my first life.
Not because of sheer power.
But because this time, I was doing it right.