A Memory Encased in Ice

The air grew thicker, as if the entire palace was holding its breath.

Frostfang did not move.

She stood frozen—not in body, but in spirit.

Her glacial eyes, unyielding as the frozen storms of Everfrost, flickered.

"…What did you just say?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence like a blade of ice.

Ingi took a step forward, his expression unchanging. Firm, yet gentle.

"You are still my daughter," he repeated.

The words drifted through the chamber, each syllable laced with a warmth that had no place in this frozen wasteland.

Zarathorak, who had been watching with arms crossed, let out a low breath. Even he felt it.

Frostfang's gaze remained locked onto Ingi.

"…Lies," she murmured.

The walls of the palace trembled. Frost lined the ceiling, thickening, solidifying. A warning.

"I do not know you," she continued, her voice sharper now. Colder.