But the light shifted before he could finish. Threads of it curled upward like tendrils, reaching toward me.
I took a single step forward, and the hum in the air deepened. “Kaelith,” I whispered, “it’s calling.”
He moved as if to stop me—but the floor split open. The glow erupted, swallowing the cavern in blinding white.
The world tilted.
When the light dimmed, I was no longer standing on stone. The air smelled of rain and crushed violets, not frost. Silver trees grew in a forest without sound, their leaves trembling with faint light. Snowflakes floated upward like embers. And somewhere in the distance, music—soft, wordless, the sound of a dream remembering itself.
A figure waited among the trees.
Not man, not entirely fae. His form blurred at the edges, shifting with each heartbeat—his hair silver one moment, starlit the next; his eyes unfathomable, reflecting the fractured aurora above.
“Dreamkeeper,” I breathed.
He smiled—not kindly, not cruelly. “So you’ve woken.”
Kaelith appeared beside me, sword drawn though it cast no shadow. “If you’re real,” he said evenly, “you’ll explain what this is.”
The Dreamkeeper’s gaze slid toward him. “Ever the Frostbound Heir—question first, surrender never.”
“Answer.”
“Very well.” The figure turned to me. “The Dreamstone stirs because its keeper has found a vessel. You, Katria Vale.”
I felt my pulse stutter. “I didn’tfindanything—”
“You were found,” he corrected gently. “And through you, Winter dreams again.”
Kaelith stepped forward, blade lowering slightly. “If this magic is awakening through her, then tell me how to stop it.”
The Dreamkeeper’s expression shifted—something like pity in it. “Would you still wish to, if it means losing her?”
Kaelith’s hand trembled once, barely perceptible. “If that’s what it takes to save my realm.”
“Ah,” the Dreamkeeper said softly. “And there lies your fracture, Prince of Frost. You would freeze your own heart to protect the world, yet the thaw has already begun.”
He moved closer, and I felt the ground shift—snow and petals mingling underfoot. His voice lowered to something intimate, almost tender. “You cannot guard her forever. She was never meant to be kept.”
Kaelith’s jaw hardened. “Then what was she meant to be?”
The Dreamkeeper smiled, eyes distant. “A bridge. Between waking and dream, mortal and fae, love and ruin. The Veil does not break—ityearns.And when it calls, she will answer.”
I took a step back, heart hammering. “Undo it. I didn’t ask for this.”
“No one ever does,” he said. “But you were chosen long before you were born.”
He reached out a hand. “When the time comes, remember this: If you wish to keep her, you must learn to let her go.”
Kaelith’s breath hitched. “What does that mean?”
But the Dreamkeeper only smiled again, the forest behind him dissolving into starlight. “Dreams are not meant to be kept, Frostbound Heir. Only cherished before they fade.”
The ground gave way. The light collapsed inward—silver, red, and blue all folding into one impossible brightness.
And then we were back in the catacombs. The Dreamstone’s glow was dim again, and the air smelled of frost and ash.
Kaelith stood a few paces away, sword still drawn but his hand shaking visibly. He looked at me—trulylooked—and for a heartbeat there was no prince, no heir, no duty. Only a man terrified of losing what he didn’t realize he’d already lost.
