Lucian blinked in surprise. "You've never seen snow before?"
She chuckled lightly. "It's not that I've never seen snow, but this is the first time I've seen it and not … been afraid of it."
Back in Hell, whenever Medeia made a mistake, Lucifer would cast her into the coldest Hell, locking her there until she begged for mercy.
That place was always buried under a thick blanket of white snow, relentlessly battered by violent snowstorms.
The sinners would turn into ice statues the moment they were thrown in, but because Medeia was a demon, she could endure the cold far better than they could.
Still, the endless stretch of snow always felt so lonely and cruel, a constant reminder of Lucifer's harsh punishment.
It made her despise snow more than anything.
But now, it is different.
Rather than a threat, the snow felt soft, delicate, and surprisingly gentle in her hand.