The ridge rose like a scar across the horizon—jagged, frostbitten, unforgiving. Wind howled through the pass, flinging snow in sharp gusts that stung the face and clawed at exposed skin. Solene and Seraphyne trudged through the rising storm, eyes narrowed against the cold.
"We're not alone," Seraphyne said suddenly, her voice low.
Solene tensed. Her fingers curled reflexively, frost licking across her knuckles.
A figure stepped from behind a snow-slick boulder up ahead. Clad in red and black plate armor, lined with golden sigils. The Cael family crest gleamed across his chest: a burning phoenix.
Solene froze. Her heart punched against her ribs.
"Gareth," she said coldly.
"Lady Solene," the knight captain replied, his voice smooth, almost smug beneath his helm. "You're a hard woman to track."
Solene didn't respond. Her eyes flicked to the sword at his hip, still sheathed—but she knew him. That meant nothing.
Seraphyne shifted beside her, one hand hovering near her side where her shadow flame could spark.
"I thought they'd send Alden," Solene said.
Gareth gave a short laugh. "Alden begged for it. Your mother had...other ideas."
Her stomach turned.
"I'm not going back," she said. "And I'm not kneeling."
Gareth removed his helm, revealing a smug grin and storm-gray eyes that always seemed too pleased with cruelty. His dark hair was swept back, too perfect for the filth beneath it.
"Oh, you won't have the chance," he said. "Adriana's done pretending."
The wind screamed louder, but not louder than her blood roaring in her ears.
"She found out," Gareth continued, stepping forward. "About you and Nerys."
Solene's heart stopped.
He smiled wider. "That wasn't in any of your letters, was it? That little secret you kept tucked away between you two? It didn't stay secret."
"Where is she?" Solene's voice cracked. Cold magic built around her feet, splintering the ground.
"Alive. For now. Locked away. Mother's orders," Gareth said. "She was going to send her to marry some foreign noble, but after your little betrayal... she changed her mind."
Solene's vision tunneled. Rage clawed at her throat, too massive to scream.
"You were sent to kill me," she said, voice ice-flat.
Gareth nodded. "I was. But death... feels too easy."
He looked her over slowly, eyes lingering in a way that made Seraphyne step forward.
"You always were a bit of a mystery," Gareth said. "Cold little thing, keeping Nerys all to yourself. The way you looked at her... it was disgusting. And tempting."
Seraphyne's hand lit up with black flame. "You'll want to choose your next words carefully."
But Gareth didn't flinch. "I think I'll speak freely. I outrank both of you. Or I did. And I'd rather not waste what's been wasted already. Think of it, Solene—if you come quietly, we can make our own deal. No more running. No more exile. Just you, me, and time to... understand each other better."
Solene's voice was a whisper.
"I'll kill you."
Gareth laughed. "No, you won't. Because if you strike me down now, your sister dies tonight."
The storm raged around them.
Solene's magic snapped.
"I. Don't. Believe you."
He stepped forward again. "Then test me. See how long she lasts without you."
Seraphyne flung a bolt of black fire. Gareth dodged, fast—faster than he had any right to in full armor. The flame singed his cloak.
Solene lunged.
She didn't scream. She didn't need to. Her magic screamed for her.
Spikes of ice burst from the ground, launching toward Gareth in a spiral. He rolled behind a rock and drew his blade—red steel that pulsed with fire.
Seraphyne darted forward beside her, shadows curling around her fingers like claws.
"You take left," she shouted.
"Kill him," Solene said, and her voice held no mercy.
---
The air ignited with magic.
Gareth swung his sword, flames whipping outward in a wide arc. The snow around him evaporated in bursts, steam hissing into the frozen wind. Solene rolled to the side, ice solidifying under her boots as she launched upward, arms wide.
"Stay behind cover!" Seraphyne called out, her voice already distant as she disappeared into the storm, darting between trees like a phantom.
Solene didn't answer. She didn't need to.
She wanted him to see her.
Gareth charged, sword raised high. "You're nothing without Nerys!" he bellowed. "A half-formed freak hiding behind frost!"
Solene met him head-on. Her hands slammed together, and a surge of jagged ice exploded from the earth, slicing his calf. He stumbled, roared, swung blindly.
She dodged. Dropped low. Frost licked across the ground with every movement—living, breathing, hungry.
"You talk too much," she spat.
He turned fast, blade narrowly missing her cheek. She didn't flinch. Instead, she reached forward and touched his breastplate—ice snapped through metal like glass shattering under pressure, crawling beneath the armor, up his chest, into the soft flesh.
Gareth screamed.
He swung wildly, fire crackling across his sword, melting part of the ice away—but he was slower now. Bleeding. Cursing.
Solene circled him, her breath steady. Focused. Her eyes were blue fire.
"You want to use me?" she hissed. "You want to use her against me?"
She raised both hands.
The air dropped twenty degrees in a blink.
Gareth's blade stuttered in his grasp as frost formed along the hilt. His lips turned pale.
"I am not yours to touch."
Spikes of ice erupted from the ground beneath him, skewering through the gaps in his greaves. His knees buckled. He fell hard.
Solene walked toward him.
One step.
Two.
He raised a shaking hand. "S-Solene—wait—"
She didn't.
She slammed her foot onto his sword arm, pinning it to the ground. He howled, tendons snapping.
"You wanted me broken," she whispered, leaning down. "You wanted me scared."
She placed her hand over his face.
"You should've run."
Ice surged.
It didn't just freeze him—it invaded him. Pushed past his skin, into his mouth, his eyes, his skull. His scream became a gurgle, then a whimper, then nothing.
His body convulsed, frozen from the inside out. Skin split. Blood crystallized. His face warped mid-death, twisted in shock and agony.
When she finally stood, Gareth Cael was nothing more than a ruined husk of red and black armor wrapped around a jagged sculpture of frost and gore. Steam rose from the corpse where the last of his heat fled into the wind.
Seraphyne reappeared from behind a snowdrift, staring at the remains. Her crimson eyes were unreadable.
"Well," she said after a moment, "that's one way to say no."
Solene didn't answer. She was still breathing hard, her hands trembling slightly from the intensity of her magic.
"Is he dead?" Seraphyne asked.
Solene turned slowly. Her eyes were colder than the wind around them.
"I made sure."
There was no triumph in her voice. Only resolve.
She stared at the body one more second, then turned toward the path. Her voice was like broken glass.
"He touched her name."
Seraphyne nodded, silent.
They walked on, leaving Gareth's shattered corpse behind to rot beneath the snow—unmarked, unburied.
Just as he deserved.