The cold winds howled across the icy expanse surrounding the Citadel, the Frost family's fortress and headquarters. It was a place steeped in tradition, where warriors trained relentlessly under the harshest conditions.
This time, however, the training grounds were packed with soldiers and Phenomenals, all preparing for a single goal: bringing Silas Kurt to his knees.
Lady Selyna Frost stood on the battlements, gazing out over the endless expanse of ice and snow. Her daughter, Lyra, and son, Kael, flanked her, both wearing expressions of determination—though Lyra's held a trace of hesitation.
"This is it," Selyna said, her voice calm but steely. "The time for preparation is over. We move tonight."
Kael grinned, his icy-blue armor glinting in the pale light. "About time. He won't know what hit him."
Lyra shifted uncomfortably. "Mother, are we sure this is the right move? What if—"