#7

In Frosthaven, the festive season officially begins at the end of December—a season loved by children and adults but largely abandoned by teenagers dreaming of life in bigger, brighter places.

To them, Frosthaven is not a home but a cage. Sometimes, the place that holds you feels like the place that imprisons you.

But for Autumn, escape was never an option. She wasn't just a girl stuck in a town; she was a heroine trapped in a story, bound by fate with no room to choose.

She stood on the balcony of her room, surrounded by the stillness of winter. The sky above was a deep shade of blue, the kind that swallows the light. From her vantage point, she could see the whole of Frosthaven, the snow blanketing the city like a soft yet unrelenting curse.

Her black dress swayed in the merciless wind, as did her long, dark hair. Her eyes—darker than the sky, deeper than the sea—were filled with the cold of the snow, the bitterness of winter. She was everything magical in a story and everything unbearable in reality.

Suddenly, a warm woolen blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Startled by the sudden warmth, she shivered, the stark contrast to the cold she had grown used to sending a jolt through her.

She turned to find Theo standing behind her, wearing his usual, easygoing smile.

"Hello, Spring," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that made him blink in confusion.

"Spring? What do you mean?"

"There's no need for you to understand," she replied with a faint smile.

Theo, knowing better than to press for answers, let it go

"Do you want to hear a legend about Frosthaven?" Autumn asked

Her gaze returned to the snowy horizon as she began, her voice calm yet haunting:

"There's a legend called Eternal Ice.

They say Frosthaven was once a city surrounded by endless snow, where winter never ended. The locals believe this land is cursed—cursed because of an ancient battle between beings of ice and the sun. In their war, the sun was defeated, and as punishment, winter was made eternal."

She paused before adding, "You can blame the skies, the town, the sun, the world—blame winter for the never-ending cold."

Theo raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile. "So you're blaming winter for everything that doesn't change?"

She shook her head. "Not blaming it. I think it's a blessing. If nothing changes, then no one can blame me for staying the same."

Theo chuckled, the sound warm and light against the weight of her words. "Honestly, you haven't changed a bit since the first time I saw you."

"The first time you saw me?" she asked, intrigued.

He smiled, his eyes soft with nostalgia. "How could I ever forget?"

"It was a night as cold as this one. Your father brought Marceline and me here. The house was intimidating, honestly—it felt haunted, like it had stepped out of a horror movie. Marceline and I were terrified.

And then there you were, standing at the top of the staircase, dressed in black, your long hair falling like a shadow, your eyes unreadable. You didn't smile, not even a little. I thought... I thought you were part of the house."

Autumn interrupted him with a laugh. "What kind of movies were you watching back then?"

Theo laughed too but continued, "The kind that made me think you were going to bully us or chase us out of the room. But instead, you said, 'They can sleep in my room.'"

He paused, his expression softening further. "I'll never forget what you did next. You took my hand and Marceline's without a word and led us away. Looking back, I think you wanted to comfort us, to make us feel like we belonged, even in a strange place."

"I guess I was a kind kid," she said, her tone teasing.

"You were, and you still are," Theo replied. "You and Marceline... you became my world. Even though I'm an orphan, I never felt like one—not with you two around."

theo contained, "When we got to your room, you asked if it was okay for Marceline and me to sleep next to each other. Of course, we didn't mind. You told us we could sleep on the bed, but we were so confused, so out of place, that we sat on the floor instead, feeling like we didn't belong."

He chuckled lightly, though his voice carried a tinge of sadness. "You just stood there, staring at us, as if you didn't know what to do. And honestly, I thought it was because you didn't want to sleep next to orphans like us."

Autumn's eyes widened, her voice sharp but soft. "What nonsense... I just didn't want strangers sleeping beside you."

Theo smiled knowingly. "That's exactly who you are. For the sake of others' comfort, you turn yourself into a stranger in your own life."

caught off guard by his words. She had nothing to say, nothing to deflect with.

"And then," Theo continued gently, "Marceline told you we didn't mind sleeping on the floor, and you looked so angry. You said, 'Can I sleep next to you?' Like you were the guest in your own room."

His laugh was warm now, pulling her back from her thoughts. "That night was the first time I slept soundly in years. You made us feel... safe, even though you were just a kid yourself."

Autumn's lips curved into a faint smile, but her gaze lingered on the falling snow. "I guess I was just trying to make it bearable—for all of us."

"And you did," Theo said, his tone firm. "You still do."

At that moment, Marceline appeared at the balcony door, and with her was Juliette, her tone mischievous as she asked,

"Why isn't my name in this story? Have I been abandoned?"

Marceline smirked. "You're our pet."

"Then can I be a rabbit?" Juliette grinned.

"Of course," Marceline said with a playful nod.

"Oh, yes!" Juliette declared, laughing.

Their laughter filled the air, breaking through the stillness of the winter night.

Later, the family gathered around Autumn's dining table. Normally, the room felt dark and empty, but tonight was different.

The table was alive with warmth: Juliette's endless praise for the food, Marceline's laughter, the soft hum of voices blending with the sound of rain tapping against the windows. It was a night of fleeting joy, a moment carved out of time where even Autumn felt like she belonged.

For just one night, they weren't orphans or wanderers; they were simply a family. And for Autumn, that was enough.