Noel stood tall, breath even, mind focused.
The weight of the room hadn’t lessened—if anything, the air felt thicker now, colder.
"I know how to make a cure, Lady Vaelora," he said calmly, voice clear in the vast hall.
Vaelora tilted her head slightly.
A dangerous glint sparked in her ice-blue eyes.
"Oh?" she replied, her tone both amused and sharp. "Now that is interesting. But tell —now that you’ve offered this little piece of information... why shouldn’t I simply take the rest from you, just as you did with my daughter?"
Noel swallowed, throat tightening for a brief second.
’Good point... well played.’
But his face remained composed. He straightened his shoulders.
"Because I trust," he said steadily, eyes eting hers, "that the great Lady Vaelora would never stoop to the level of a Thorne family disgrace."
A cold silence followed.
Then—Vaelora gave a faint smirk.
"I see. No, I would not."
She leaned back slightly in her throne, fingers drumming once on the bone-carved armrest.
"Very well, speak and tell more."
Noel nodded once.
"I know how to prepare the cure. For that, I need Frostpetals as the primary ingredient. The petals hold powerful healing properties, especially for severe fevers. And as you must know... the most lethal symptom of this disease is precisely those fevers."
Vaelora’s gaze sharpened, but she said nothing—only waited.
Noel continued.
"My plan is simple. I will ascend Frostspire Peak myself and gather the flowers. I’ll extract the petals and bring them down. Once I return to Estermont, I can begin crafting the cure—I already have the other ingredients prepared."
He paused briefly, ensuring his tone remained asured.
"After that, we’ll begin distributing the cure. Of course, the Estermont family is unaware of the Frostpetals. You can be certain of that—this knowledge is mine alone."
Vaelora studied him carefully, her expression unreadable.
"And what does House Iskandar gain from this?"
Noel answered without hesitation.
"Resources. Given the trouble I’m causing you now, House Estermont will gladly offer support to House Iskandar. And beyond that—when the cure spreads, the na of Iskandar will shine even brighter across Valor. You will be seen as key to overcoming this crisis."
Vaelora leaned forward, resting both elbows on her knees, voice low.
"It is an interesting offer, I will not deny that. But I would like a safeguard. You say your family cares little for you... yet I would prefer proof. A written agreent."
Noel nodded slowly.
"Of course," he said.
At Vaelora’s signal, two guards entered the hall. One carried a sheet of thick parchnt and a quill, the other—the red-haired warrior Noel had seen earlier—brought a small wooden table, which he set carefully in front of the throne.
Vaelora’s voice cut through the quiet.
"Write this down."
The first guard positioned the parchnt and quill, standing ready.
"Point one. If young Noel Thorne of House Thorne dies, his family may not seek retribution against House Iskandar."
The quill scratched softly across the page.
"Point two. If his mission succeeds, House Iskandar will be nad as the discoverer of the cure. Noel Thorne forfeits any claim to the glory of it."
Another pause as the guard wrote.
"Point three. Should Noel Thorne not return alive, due to the complications he has caused, House Estermont will be required to compensate House Iskandar for damages."
The quill moved again, steady and precise.
"And point four. If Noel Thorne ever reveals the secret he knows about the Iskandar family, he will pay for it with his life."
The last words echoed slightly in the chamber, colder than the stone itself.
Vaelora’s gaze locked onto Noel’s.
"Good. Now sign this, Noel Thorne, and our agreent will be sealed. Once you do, I will grant you the right to ascend Frostspire Peak."
Noel exhaled softly through his nose, moving toward the table.
’So all I have to do is not die... easy enough, right?’
Without hesitation, he picked up the quill, signed his na in smooth, practiced strokes, and stepped back.
Vaelora’s smile returned, thin and sharp.
"Wait. We’re not finished yet. There is a second copy."
Noel raised an eyebrow slightly.
"A second one?"
"Of course," Vaelora replied. "One for ... and one for you. So you won’t forget."
Noel gave a small nod, voice calm.
"I see. That makes sense. You are a wise woman, Lady Vaelora."
Her smile deepened.
"With this paper, you are free to go. You may ascend the mountain whenever you wish. The gates will open for you."
Noel bowed slightly in acknowledgnt.
"Understood. Thank you."
Noel stepped out of the main hall, the heavy doors closing behind him with a deep echo. The cold air outside felt almost warm compared to the atmosphere he had just left.
Without breaking stride, he reached for the docunt and slid it carefully into his Dinsional Pouch, ensuring it was secure. The weight of it wasn’t much, but its importance was clear enough.
Night was falling fast over the fortress. The pale light of the moon barely pierced the thick clouds rolling in above Frostspire Peak. Noel glanced toward the distant silhouette of the mountain, its jagged form just visible against the darkening sky.
’Tomorrow,’ he thought. ’It begins.’
He made his way through the stone corridors, boots crunching lightly on frost-dusted floors. Near the barracks, he found a young guard and requested a room for the night. The man led him to a small, sparsely furnished chamber within the inner keep.
Noel entered alone, the door closing softly behind him. The room was plain but warm enough—a single bed, a chair, a small table, and little else.
As he began to remove his coat, a faint sound caught his ear. Soft footsteps. A mont later, Noir padded into the room, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His black and violet fur was dusted with snow.
Noel gave a faint smile.
"Did you find it, little one?"
Noir let out a soft "Wof," tail swishing once.
Noel crouched and ruffled the fur behind his ears.
"Good work."
He straightened, eyes lingering for a mont on the pack Noir had carried back. Everything was in place.
’One more night,’ he thought. ’Then we climb.’
The door to Selene’s room opened without warning, the old hinges creaking sharply.
Vaelora stepped inside, her presence filling the small space like a storm front. She took in the sight of her daughter, curled beneath the thin sheets of her bed, eyes closed in restless sleep.
"Tch." Her voice was a sharp, cold breath.
"Wake up!"
Selene jolted upright, heart hamring in her chest. For a mont, disoriented, she blinked against the dim light of her room.
Vaelora stood near the doorway, arms crossed, expression carved from ice.
"Your little friend leaves tomorrow," she said flatly. "It seems you may have done sothing useful after all... though that doesn’t excuse the fact that you revealed a family secret. You know what awaits you, don’t you?"
Selene’s throat tightened. Her voice ca out soft, resigned.
"Yes, Mother..."
Vaelora lingered a beat longer, gaze hard, then turned sharply on her heel.
"Good. You’d best conserve your strength."
The door slamd shut behind her, leaving Selene alone once more.
Silence settled over the room once again.
Selene sat frozen on the edge of her bed, arms wrapped around herself. The echo of the door slamming still rang faintly in her ears.
Her mother’s words were nothing new—sharp, cold, always cutting deeper than any blade. But this ti, sothing else had settled in her chest... a dull ache that refused to fade.
’So... he’s leaving tomorrow.’
The thought stirred an odd mix of feelings inside her. A part of her felt relief, that Noel would soon be gone from this place, out of her mother’s reach. But another part—small, fragile—felt a strange emptiness at the thought.
’Why did I help him...? Maybe... maybe I just wanted soone to help the others. Maybe I wanted to help.’
Her body sagged slightly as she lay back down, pulling the thin sheets over herself. The room felt colder than ever.
Then, a low rumble echoed from her stomach. Hunger gnawed at her, sharp and insistent, but she knew there would be no al tonight. There rarely was when her mother was displeased.
She pressed a hand to her belly, fingers trembling slightly.
’Just sleep... forget it... sleep.’
Curling into herself beneath the thin blanket, she closed her eyes, forcing her body still.
But the weight of the day, of her choices, and of the silence left behind pressed harder than ever.
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