"Sylara, be careful," Lumina said, patting her head as she walked past. Just as she was about to step out, she paused and added warmly,

  "The blue looks good."

  Sylara turned back, catching the sight of her walking away.

  Glacina and Lumina were guardian figures to her—she had seen them from the moment her eyes first opened. She still remembered the softness of amber-gold eyes, and the seriousness in a pair of pale platinum orbs gazing at her. She sat down on the divan, closing her eyes. These days seemed to pass very slowly ever since her studies ended. She would visit the town, wander through the woods, and observe different creatures. She had even made friends with a few rabbits and a deer.

  "Did she leave again?" A cold voice stirred the quiet, prompting her to open her eyes. Platinum eyes met hers—icy blue hair tied in a braid, and an iridescent gown flowing down to the floor. "Perhaps. She didn’t mention anything," Sylara replied softly.

  Lumina gently shook her head and moved to sit beside her.

  "Let me brush your hair."

  Sylara nodded. A comb materialized in Glacina’s hand, and she began to brush the silvery strands, braiding them carefully before tying the blue ribbon at the end.

  "It suits you," she said gently, then walked out of the hall.

  She stood up as well and decided to see her friends from the woods. Snow dust lingered in space surrounding her, she walked as if floating in air as soon she reached out of the palace she closed her eyes and when she reopened them she was in the woods. A small dear sat nearby, she walked up to it, caressing the neck light glowed at places she touched the deer and it squinted its eyes as if all the fatigue it felt that was washing away. She heard restless hopping and followed the sound, she saw a grey rabbit, it was wounded breathing its last. The snow dust formed a gale around her, the deer gently nudged her, and the air calmed down once again. She moved forward and gently picked up, the blood staining her jaded fingers, it seemed exceptionally red against them. Light glowed, then she touched the ground and a small grave was formed, she buried it there and as she walked away an icy tomb was constructed on it.

  She stood up, a sense of purpose rising within her, and decided to visit her friends from the woods. Snow dust lingered in the space surrounding her, as if the very air was touched by a quiet magic. She walked with a grace, her steps light, almost as if she were floating. When she reached the threshold of the palace, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was standing in the woods. A small deer sat nearby. She approached it, her touch gentle as she caressed its neck. Soft light glowed where her fingers traced its fur, and the deer squinted its eyes as though all the fatigue it had once carried was being washed away, replaced with calm.

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  A rustling sound broke the silence, followed by restless hopping. She turned toward it and found a grey rabbit, wounded, breathing its last. The snow dust swirled around her, forming a quiet gale, and the deer gently nudged her, grounding the moment with a sense of stillness. The air settled once again, and Sylara moved closer, kneeling to pick up the rabbit. The blood on her jaded fingers stained them bright red, an unnatural contrast to the pale white of her skin. A soft light began to glow around her hands as she touched the earth, and with a quiet touch, a small grave formed. She laid the rabbit there, and as she stood to walk away, an icy tomb slowly encased the tiny life she had just buried, a final resting place made of frost.

  Soren had decided to explore the woods for a while. He wandered through the tall cedar trees, which stood with quiet majesty. Birds chirped above, and the bushes rustled softly. He even spotted a few rabbits hopping around. Then he stopped. His gaze had caught something silver. Without thinking, he swiftly moved in that direction. What he saw made his breath still—a deer, and beside it, the figure he hadn’t realized he'd been missing this much.

  “Pardon me,” he said—two simple words that, the moment they left his mouth, felt unbearably dull. He lamented how flat they sounded.

  She turned. Two pools of deep blue met his eyes. Her silver hair was elegantly braided, resting over one shoulder. She wore deep purple, iridescent as if woven from dusk and moonlight. She simply gazed at him, saying nothing. It wasn’t clear if she was even comprehending what he said. Her expression remained unreadable, those deep blue eyes watching him in silence. Then he noticed it—the blue ribbon, neatly tying her hair.

  “That’s my ribbon… I mean, it was tied to the bouquet,” he said quickly, and immediately regretted it. “You don’t like sunflowers? You rejected the bouquet.”

  His words kept tumbling out, growing worse by the second. He wanted to face-palm.

  There went his first impression.

  "I preserved it for you," she spoke at last, her voice calm and gentle. Though it lacked warmth, it wasn't harsh.

  "Preserved?"

  "Isn't that what you wanted?" she asked quietly, her expression unchanged.

  Soren understood after a moment what she meant.

  "Oh… that was a gift for you," he softly muttered.

  He caught a flicker in her eyes before the usual calm returned. That’s when he noticed the blood on her hands. He pulled out his handkerchief and stepped toward her, each movement measured. She watched him gently—silent, unmoving. He took her wrist with care and began wiping the blood away, each stroke deliberate, almost reverent. Then he looked up—and froze.

  "I didn’t mean any disrespect," he said quickly, stepping back a few paces.