Within the Bannubi Empire, Ikor Forest.

Winter laid layer upon layer of white coats over the woods, ice crust mixed with snow on the ground like glass under sugar frost.

Two white stallions pulled a carriage forward, hooves beating like drums over the frosted earth.

A petite figure in black leaned from the cabin, her voice a warm puff in the cold: “Desty, take a break; the horses are tired.”

“Mm.” Desty halted the horses, tied the reins, fed grain, and started cleaning their hooves.

Her hands flicked frost like crumbs from stone.

While cleaning, she muttered, “It’s so, so cold…” Her breath bloomed like steam flowers.

Lucimia braced both hands on the windowframe, lay at the pane, and blankly watched the red-haired girl scrub, eyes like winter pools.

Silence held like frost, until Desty cleared the packed snow and began to rise.

Lucimia’s lips lifted like a crescent moon; she cast a spell and blew a gentle breath.

At that puff, snow beside them surged and slapped Desty; white powder cloaked her, and the hoof she had cleaned met snow again.

Desty jolted, anger flaring like sparks in snow.

She pointed at Lucimia, her finger an icicle. “I just finished! It’s exhausting, okay? If you won’t help, don’t mess around!”

Lucimia pulled a face, her tongue a tiny banner. “Didn’t you say it’s cold? Do it one more round; you’ll warm up, right?”

Desty choked on words like ice chunks, then swallowed them.

She knew she couldn’t win and fumed. “When did you get so playful?”

“Back when you hid under the blanket, like a cave, didn’t I chill you with ice magic on purpose? You should’ve known then.” Lucimia’s laugh chimed like sleet on eaves.

“Hmph, fine.” Desty bent again and kept cleaning the hoof’s snow, a pine bowed under fresh weight.

“Come on, it’s just a joke. Let’s not wear stormy faces.”

“I’ve kept the cabin warm with magic, like a hearth, and laid out delicious food. I’m waiting for you to come in.”

As she spoke, Lucimia cleared space so Desty could see the dishes through the window, steam rising like ghosts.

Under Desty’s gaze, Lucimia winked and patted the seat beside her, an inviting drumbeat.

“Hmph, that’s more like it.” Desty huffed, did a quick sweep, then slipped into the warm cabin like a bird to its nest.

As soon as she entered, healing washed her; warmth ran through her like a tide and thawed her to tears.

“Damn, you’re comfy in here while I froze outside.”

Desty flopped onto a soft cushion. “Look—these seats are clouds, while I sat on an ice plank. Not fair!”

Faced with her barrage, Lucimia huffed and shot back, “Who says I’m comfy?”

“I have to watch the surroundings, confirm the route, track the mice behind us, spot pursuers, detour, and intercept beasts.”

“I’m working hard too, okay!” Her eyes swept the world like lanterns in mist.

Desty turned away, threw one leg over the other, folded her arms, and shut herself like a gate.

“Go on and sulk; I’ll finish the food.”

Lucimia quit the sparring and forked a chunk of beef into her mouth, juices running like little rivers.

“Mmm, so good.”

Watching Lucimia about to finish the feast, Desty panicked; she dropped her leg and lunged for the table like a cat.

“Wait, leave me some. I want meat too!”

After lunch, Desty rubbed her full belly like a content cat and asked Lucimia, who leaned by the window with cheek propped and lips sealed, “How much longer to Wasan Village? We’ve walked for days. With speed abilities, why is it still this slow?”

Lucimia turned back to Desty, lowered her arm, sighed, and said, “Beasts blocking us are the main reason.”

The empire teems with monsters; every few steps, more of them, like stones crowding a riverbed.

“And soldiers are hunting us. So we detour a bit, but not far, so the mice don’t drift off route.”

Those detours are rough, thorny paths that swallow time.

“But yeah, we’re close to Wasan Village. Once we pass this forest, it’s there, like a door beyond trees.”

“Really…?”

“Mm. They’ll suffer because we arrive.”

Lucimia fixed her gaze on Desty’s eyes, a smile with hidden moonlight spreading. “If you can’t accept it, you can run now. There’s still time.”

“Uh…” Desty froze, cold clinging like ice, bit her lower lip, then sighed.

“No. We’re doing this for the empire, maybe the world. It’s unfair to them… Maybe that’s this world’s real face—helpless and cold.”

Lucimia watched Desty in silence for a few seconds, then turned back to the window and propped her cheek, still as frost on glass.

Desty stayed quiet too, silence like a covered well. She lounged on the sofa, twining her hair like black riverweed, thoughts drifting.

Midday slipped by, minute by minute.

Tiredness pulled Desty under; she crawled onto the sofa and slept.

Lucimia saw and laid a blanket over her, a soft snowfall.

A while later, drowsiness tugged at Lucimia too. She leaned on the window and let her eyes close, fog drawing in.

Not right!

A jolt knifed through her. She snapped her eyes open, sprang up, and kicked Desty. “Up! We have enemies.”

Desty blinked sleep from her eyes, hand finding the longsword at her side. “Enemies? Pursuers?”

“Hard to say. The hypnosis was weak, like thin mist. We broke it without magic or Authority Power. The other side feels like an amateur.”

Lucimia’s pupils shifted like spinning glass; she was sharing sight with the Fuzzy Orb.

She had placed Fuzzy Orbs ahead of time, like dew beads, to confirm routes, beasts, pursuers, and other details.

“Then who, a shadow at noon?” Desty gripped her sword and set herself, a bow drawn.

“Could be someone else, or a beast. Or it’s pursuers feigning weakness to muddle us. All possible.”

Through the Fuzzy Orb’s eyes, Lucimia saw a masked man crouched on a tree ahead of the carriage.

He wore a cloak and a hood, bark-dark shadows wrapping him, and on his shoulder perched a parrot.

Its pupils kept spinning, whirlpools that cast hypnosis.

Who was he, to command a magic creature, like a puppeteer tugging at storms?

What did he want?

Did he spot two girls and grow bold, planning to hypnotize and do as he pleased?

Or was he a bandit, a wolf in the trees?

Lucimia frowned, clouds gathering on her brow, and decided to teach him a lesson.

She guided a Fuzzy Orb up the trunk, close to the branch where he crouched, and bit clean through a segment, like a tiny saw in bark.

The branch snapped. The man lost footing and fell. He stayed calm, whistled, and the parrot swelled larger than the carriage.

It seized his clothes and brought him down safely, wings unfurling like banners.

Landing, the man drew two quick breaths and glanced at the fallen branch beside him.

He saw the smooth cut and seemed to understand, awareness rising like a flame.