The night had wrapped the Ice Palace in its usual hush, yet Lyriana’s heart was louder than ever.

  She was almost at the castle gates, her breath curling in the cold air. The moonlight touched the snow-dusted path before her like it was blessing her escape. But just as she was about to step into the unknown, a memory struck her — soft and haunting.

  Her mother’s smile.

  It was always the same: poised, gentle, yet hollow. A mask she wore so often that Lyriana wasn’t sure if her mother even knew how to truly smile anymore. But still… it was a face Lyriana longed to see one last time. Even if the love behind it was quiet, buried, or broken — it was the only comfort she had.

  She turned back.

  Padding through the icy corridors, she reached her mother’s chamber and slowly opened the door. Aurenella lay asleep, her silver hair like moon threads scattered across her pillow. Lyriana tiptoed in, the cold floor biting at her feet. She knelt beside the bed, took her mother’s hand gently, and kissed it — letting it linger a little longer, as if to say everything her voice never could.

  She stood quietly to leave.

  Stolen story; please report.

  But as she reached the doorway, a voice called her — soft and cracked.

  “Lyriana…”

  She froze. Slowly turning, she saw her mother sitting up, her eyes wet, her hands trembling. “Where are you going?” Aurenella whispered, as if fearing the answer.

  Lyriana reached into the small satchel she always carried — the one with her notebook and pencil. Her hands shook as she scribbled quickly, then turned the book around.

  “I don’t know. But something is calling me. And I can’t stay. Not anymore.”

  Aurenella stood up, slowly walking toward her. She looked at her daughter’s face — the determination, the sorrow — and for once, she didn’t see the silent child the court often ignored. She saw a brave soul.

  “You’ve always listened more than anyone,” Aurenella said, brushing a lock of hair behind Lyriana’s ear. “Maybe now it’s time the world listens to you.”

  From a small drawer in her wardrobe, she pulled out a blue crystal pendant wrapped in an ancient braid of white silk. She placed it in Lyriana’s hand.

  “This is our bloodline’s stone,” she said. “It was given to me by your grandmother. It’s said to guide hearts that are lost. Take it, and take care. You will see things on this journey — things that may frighten you. But trust yourself. You’ve always had a quiet strength.”

  Lyriana threw her arms around her mother, holding on tighter than she ever had. Tears streamed down her cheeks, soaking into Aurenella’s robe.

  Then, without a word, she stepped back, nodded, and turned away.

  She pulled her cloak tight around her, tied her hair back with her favourite clip, slid the pendant around her neck, and put on her cap. Her face was hidden now — not in fear, but in readiness. When the guards stopped her at the gate, Aurenella stepped forward, her voice firm and commanding.

  “She goes under my order,” she said. “Let her pass.”

  They obeyed, as they always did.

  And with one last glance back, Lyriana stepped into the frozen night, the grass beneath her feet slick and silvered with frost. The wind howled, but she walked forward, not looking back again.

  She didn’t know where the path would lead — only that it was hers to walk.