Bastian stood at the window of the Duke's lavish mansion in icy Winterbraun, his gaze sweeping across the endless blanket of snow smothering every inch of frozen ground. No wonder people called it that—Winterbraun was buried in snow year-round. Not a single flower could claw its way out of that frostbitten earth.
The mansion was always quiet. Ever since life drained from it after the death of Etien Carter's parents, the Duke, sole ruler of all Winterbraun, had lived in solitude. He wove peace for himself amid the political chaos constantly erupting in the capital, ruling over a territory nearly half the size of the Aetharion Empire, which now had its sights set on Winterbraun.
But it had been five days since the Duke vanished, and every passing hour felt like a weight pressing down on Bastian's chest. The wind whispered through the cracks in the windows, carrying the cold and silence that only made his loneliness louder.
