Aerol’s POV

  Today is my coronation day. The mirror reflected perfection—I admired the way the ceremonial attire complemented my sharp features. As I sorted through the gilded accessories in my wardrobe, a knock echoed against the diamond door. I opened it to find General Dicester towering before me, his figure as imposing as ever.

  “My wonderful nephew,” he began with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “you look dazzling today.”

  “Of course,” I replied, gesturing for him to step inside. “What brings you here, Uncle?”

  He took the nearest plush chair, his expression darkening as he spoke. “As the new king of Glacia, there is something your father left for you—a task, a favor only the ruler of this kingdom can fulfill.”

  I frowned, lowering myself onto the sofa across from him. “A favor? Shouldn’t I have known of this earlier?”

  He met my gaze with a solemn nod. “I’m not merely a general, Aerol—I am the keeper of Glacia’s royal testaments. What I am about to tell you must remain between us.”

  “Understood,” I murmured. Rising, I locked the door and swept the room for any prying eyes or unseen magic. Satisfied, I returned to my seat and gestured for him to continue.

  From his coat, he drew a scroll and handed it to me. I unfurled it carefully, my eyes scanning the familiar script—my father’s unmistakable handwriting.

  "To the next ruler of Glacia,

  Keep the kingdom safe from the Wolfmen and retrieve the Weather Clock. If you are reading this, I have likely died without recovering it. The Weather Clock is the kingdom's most dangerous weapon, stolen by the Wolfmen during my adolescence. Protect it at all costs."

  I rolled the parchment closed, my pulse quickening. “The Weather Clock? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “It’s a relic,” General Dicester explained, his voice grave. “It regulates the kingdom’s cold, keeping the land frozen and secure. But in the wrong hands…” He trailed off, the weight of his words sinking into the silence.

  ***

  Arie’s POV

  I wasn’t allowed outside at night. Not at fifteen, not as the Ice Princess, and certainly not while the threat of Wolfmen lingered beyond the castle walls.

  Instead, I reached into my side pocket and retrieved my fruit cube. As soon as I pulled it free, it hovered at shoulder level, awaiting my command.

  "Summon Chillberry," I stated.

  The cube obeyed, conjuring a cranberry-like fruit atop its surface. Its dark red skin pulsed with a soft blue aura—a symbol of its ice element.

  I plucked it between my index finger and thumb, then swallowed it whole.

  The moment it slid down my throat, the cold ceased to bother me. No longer was I merely a Glacian with a partial aversion to freezing temperatures. Now, I had complete ice resistance.

  With this power came a limitation—the countdown to its expiration had already begun. If I lost track of time, my abilities would vanish mid-use, melting away like fragile frost beneath the sun. At first, I could only hold my ice abilities for an hour. Now, I had stretched it to two. Even so, my fruit cube enforced a universal cooldown—forcing me to wait another hour after my abilities expired before I could summon Chillberry again. That restriction, however, would lessen as I gained experience.

  Lifting my hand, I summoned an ice drone and sent it soaring over the charred remnants of Snowdoom Forest beneath the pale glow of the moon.

  I had mastered the art of Ice Technology long before I ever obtained a fruit cube. Hidden within the royal library’s fifth floor was the Ice Manual, a book dense with concepts that few could comprehend—including my own family. But I had studied it, analyzed it, deciphered its pages with the same precision I applied to my survival. That knowledge had kept me from being dismissed as weak—aside from my appearance, it was the only reason my family never looked down on me for being powerless.

  Glacia was the first kingdom to harness the potential of Magical Fruits for technological advancements. My ice drone was proof of that—a construct molded from my Chillberry’s power. Creating it was no simple feat. It demanded intense focus, for controlling an ice-bound mechanism required more than just raw ability; it required discipline.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Below, the forest lay in ruin. Ash blanketed the ground where proud trees once stood. My drone wove through the skeletal remains, its icy surface reflecting the moon’s glow as it passed melted patches of ice and scorched earth.

  A pang of guilt clenched my chest. Snowdoom Forest had once thrived, its beauty untouched. Now, it was nothing but a graveyard.

  I adjusted the drone to return, but a sudden force wrenched it downward. The screen spun, disorienting, until it stilled. Through the static, a familiar voice broke through.

  “Did I forget to mention,” Aerol’s smirk filled the screen, “that ice magic users can manipulate anything made of ice? Nice try, little sister.”

  “Aerol,” I groaned, transmitting my voice through the drone. “What are you even doing out here?”

  He tilted the drone to face the north, his glacial eyes twinkling with amusement. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Palace property doesn’t just wander into the woods on its own.”

  I clenched my fists, glaring through the lens. He always found a way to meddle. But my irritation faded when the drone’s view shifted, revealing Dorsey among the guards, standing over something in the mud. Her pale blue eyes burned with fury.

  I adjusted the drone, trying to angle it for a better view. The guards were silent, their faces unreadable as they formed a circle around. A lump rose in my throat.

  Why weren’t they moving? Why wasn’t anyone speaking?

  A strange chill crept over me, crawling down my spine as I slowly panned lower, my heart pounding like a war drum.

  Then I saw it.

  General Dicester lay lifeless in the snow, his face ashen and still. My breath hitched, the cold wrapping around me like a serpent.

  The royal physician stood from the body, his tone clinical. “It was a heart attack. But with no history of heart disease, I suspect magic was involved.”

  “First my mother,” Dorsey’s voice trembled, though her posture remained rigid. “Now him. Is it the same murderer?”

  My stomach churned as the weight of it all pressed down. My father’s death, my mother’s disappearance, and now my uncle’s demise—could it all be connected?

  “We don’t have enough to draw conclusions yet, Princess,” Captain Sterling said.

  Aerol’s voice cut through the somber air, cold and commanding. “Whoever is behind this will face judgment.”

  Dorsey’s piercing sky-blue eyes locked onto my brother with disdain. “Brought a toy here, huh.”

  “I’m using this to record the investigation,” Aerol replied, flashing a faint smile.

  A toy? I bristled at the remark. He just called me a recorder. How rude. Shaking off the insult, I maneuvered the drone, scanning the area. My search revealed a trail of footsteps in the mud, leading toward Glacia’s outer village beyond Snowdoom Forest.

  "Looks like someone managed to bypass our kingdom's fire resistance," Captain Sterling said, his tone grim.

  "This is a disaster," my brother stated, his words hanging in the cold night air.

  Dorsey broke the silence. "There must be a user of Dreamer's Magic within our borders. They could have simply said, burn this forest, and magic—their wicked wish is fulfilled."

  "That's impossible, Princess," Captain Sterling said. "I still don't believe that such a type of magic exists."

  "It must be a flame-elemental fruit master," Aerol muttered, his pensive gaze dropping to the ground.

  He frowned. "And burned his… heart."

  "But there weren’t any signs of external or internal burns, Ice King," the royal physician interjected.

  "Then it must be a fruit master with inner magic!" Dorsey declared, her voice erupting with fury.

  The detective stepped forward, glancing toward the pathway leading to the outer village. "We're not sure yet whether the culprit and the arsonist are the same person."

  Dorsey tucked a strand of her lilac hair behind her ear, her voice sharp. “Was anyone with my father before he passed away? If not, the guards need to be disciplined. Allowing the Ice General to wander alone is inexcusable.”

  A guard hesitantly raised his hand. “He told us… he was going to take a whiz, so we let him go alone into the fores—”

  “What an IGNORANT decision!” she snapped, cutting him off.

  “Let him finish,” Aerol said firmly, his tone calm yet commanding. “We need to uncover the truth.”

  “I agree with the Ice King,” Captain Sterling chimed in, his expression grave. “This is a serious matter, and we must understand how it unfolded.”

  The guard straightened under the weight of their scrutiny, his voice trembling. “I… I overheard the general shout ‘Ice Princess’ and ‘stop right there’ just before he collapsed. The forest was still ablaze at the time.”

  An uneasy silence fell over the group, their expressions a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

  Aerol broke the tension with a dry chuckle. “Seriously? Are you trying to make me laugh?”

  Captain Sterling’s face darkened. “I hate to admit this, Ice King, but it seems your sister might be hiding something. Going out at night is highly suspicious.”

  “I’ve known this all along,” Dorsey interjected, her voice dripping with venom. “The Windcore family is a bloodline of witches and warlocks. I don’t trust you, son of a witch.”

  The words hit Aerol like a physical blow, his glacial eyes glinting with unshed tears. But he composed himself, his voice unwavering. “Family hatred has no place here. My sister has been asleep in the palace all night. I can vouch for her.”

  Unmoved, Dorsey turned to the detective crouched by the trail of footprints. “What have you found?”

  The man rose slowly, removing his fedora. “The footprints match a common peasant’s slipper. It’s possible the culprit is from the village, but…” He hesitated.

  “They match the Ice Princess’ foot size, don’t they?” Dorsey’s confidence was unshaken.

  The detective nodded reluctantly, his admission casting a heavy shadow over the gathering. Dorsey’s smug expression grew sharper as she glanced at Aerol.

  If Aerol tells them I’m controlling the ice drone, I have an alibi, I thought desperately. But it could also work against me. They might believe I used magic to teleport back to the palace.

  I clung to the knowledge that I hadn’t killed the general. I wasn’t capable of such an act, especially without my Magical Fruit. Without it, I had no powers—no witchcraft to accuse me of.

  Suddenly, my screen blurred, and the connection to the drone was severed. Before I could process what had happened, a knock sounded at my chamber door. Heart pounding, I rose from my desk and opened it.

  Pain shot through me as I was shoved to the floor. Looking up, I saw three royal guards towering over me, their expressions unreadable.

  “You’re coming with us to the dungeon, Ice Princess.”