The knock came just after dawn.
Granny May opened the door, peering into the early morning frost. A tall man stood on the threshold, draped in a long slate-gray traveling cloak, snow melting off his boots. His features were sharp and strong — high cheekbones, a firm jaw — and his eyes, strikingly blue, mirrored Elysia's.
Granny gasped softly. "Darian?"
The man gave a small nod. "It's been a long time, May."
Ymir stood just behind her, blinking sleepily, a steaming mug cradled in her hands. At the sound of his name, she froze.
She remembered him — barely. Faint flashes from childhood. A man who visited rarely but brought sweets and stories. Her uncle.
"I heard about my sister," he said, his voice low. "And what happened here."
"You didn't need to come all this way," Granny May began gently, though she stepped aside to let him in. "We've been taking care of Ymir, she's safe here—"
"I know. And I thank you for that," he said. "But I'll be taking her with me now."
Ymir's heart thumped. "You're taking me...?"
"You're my only family left," Darian said, turning to face her. "And I won't have it on my conscience if something happens to you next. You're not safe here, Ymir. Not with the Cult of Chaos still out there. I've made arrangements."
Granny May exhaled slowly, searching his face. "You always were stubborn."
"And you were always wise," he said, his voice softening. "I don't take this lightly. But she's not a child anymore. And the world's about to demand much more of her than this quiet village ever could."
There was a pause. Ymir turned to Granny May and Grandpa Kosolv, who now stood behind her in the hallway, quiet and solemn. Her heart ached again — this time not with grief, but with the pain of departure.
"Thank you," she said quietly, setting the mug down. "For taking care of me. For loving me when I needed it most. But... my path is changing now. I hope I'll see you again."
Granny May pulled her into one last embrace. "You will, child. And when you do, you'll be stronger than ever."
—
The snow fell heavier as they left the village behind, riding silently on horseback through the forest paths. The world was hushed, branches bowing under the weight of white, and Ymir watched her home shrink into the mist behind them.
She had so many questions, but none formed fully — only a tightening in her chest.
As evening approached, the snow thickened into a storm. Wind howled through the trees, and visibility dropped to mere feet. Darian slowed his horse and pointed ahead.
"There," he called. "We'll shelter in that cave."
They dismounted and ducked into the rocky shelter just as the storm reached its peak. Darian pulled a flint crystal from his satchel and muttered a few ancient words. A flame burst to life in the center of the cave, illuminating the cold stone walls with a warm, flickering glow.
They sat across from each other, steam rising from their cloaks.
"How have you been, Ymir?" he asked quietly.
At first, she said nothing. Then her lips began to tremble. Her hands clenched on her knees. The dam inside her broke.
"I've been trying to hold it together," she cried, the tears coming hot and fast. "But I can't anymore. I'm scared. I'm worried sick about Mom. When I told the village defense, they just pushed it aside — like it didn't matter! I hate it. I hate feeling this helpless!"
Without a word, Darian crossed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her. She collapsed into his shoulder, sobbing in heaving breaths, her words muffled in his cloak.
"I know," he whispered. "Believe me, I know."
They sat like that for a long while, the fire crackling beside them, the storm howling beyond the cave's mouth.
"I came because I've been watching the case," Darian finally said. "Quietly. Following rumors, decoding old scrolls, trying to understand what these cultists are after. That's why I couldn't come sooner."
Ymir pulled away slightly. "So what happens now?"
Darian met her eyes, his expression firm. "Now, you train."
"Train?"
"You want to help your mother, don't you? Then you need to be strong enough to do it. I can't train you myself — not for long. I'm still hunting the cult. But I've arranged a place for you. A witchcraft institution."
Ymir's breath caught. "A school?"
"A boarding academy," he said. "Hidden in the Emberpine Mountains. You'll live there. Learn the old arts. Learn how to control and grow your power. You have potential, Ymir. I've seen it. But raw magic isn't enough. You need guidance."
The flames reflected in her eyes as she stared into the fire, absorbing the weight of his words.
"Will you be there?" she asked softly.
Darian hesitated. "Only for a short time. I'll help you prepare for the entrance exam. But then… I must leave. The trail of the cult grows cold quickly. If I don't act, we may never find them again."
"So… you came just to leave me again?" Her voice cracked.
"I came to give you a chance," he replied gently. "The chance to fight for your mother's life. You won't be alone at the academy. There will be others like you — witches, students, allies. And you'll be safe behind its wards."
"I'm sixteen," she whispered. "I thought I'd be with family again. That I'd have someone."
"You will," he said. "But I need you to be brave. Just a little longer."
Ymir turned her gaze back to the fire, wiping her face. She thought of her mother's vision. Of the barrier. Of the countdown.
She nodded.
"I'll do it," she said. "I'll train. I'll pass whatever entrance exam they throw at me. And I'll get strong enough to save her."
Darian smiled. "That's my niece."
—
By the time the storm subsided, dawn had broken. The wind had quieted, leaving behind a world covered in white silence. They resumed their journey, and by midday, reached Darian's temporary home — a modest cabin tucked deep in the pinewood hills.
Ymir unpacked her things with care, the ache of goodbye still lingering in her chest. But now, it was tempered with something else — resolve.
Darian, true to his word, wasted no time. That very afternoon, he unrolled scrolls and began testing her abilities — spell resistance, elemental affinity, wand precision, even telekinetic strength. Her training for the academy entrance exam had begun.
He would only stay a few weeks, he said.
But in that short time, Ymir would begin forging herself into the witch she was meant to be.
The witch who would one day bring her mother back.