Far to the northeast, in the hollow of a mountain where the storm howled and the cold bit through every layer, there reigned a deathly silence.

  A small group of people stood before a snow-covered field, praying in silence. A girl with a long black braid falling down her back leaned against her father. Numerous graves had been set up, holding both villagers and soldiers.

  The attack on the village had left a gaping wound among its people. The healer had managed to save those who survived… but at what cost?

  It had all been nothing more than a crude diversion to capture Cerena and reach Owen. If only he had known who was after them… perhaps he could have prepared better. Despite the trust he had so painstakingly built between them, they had never wanted to go into the details of their past, as if that alone could protect them.

  The village had been unprepared for this. It had suffered many losses, all innocent, all in the name of just these two people. And yet… he could not bring himself to blame them. More than ever, he promised himself to protect his daughter, the only family he had left.

  ???

  Elvira helped her father as much as she could. He worked tirelessly on rebuilding the houses. The fire had caused devastating damage, which had to be repaired as quickly as possible so the survivors could endure the harsh weather and biting cold. The village now counted only about ten souls, including the elderly and orphaned children. The young man was therefore one of the few capable of heavy manual labor.

  That day, Elvira carried materials—logs and planks—that he had cut and prepared earlier. It wasn’t the easiest task for a twelve-year-old girl, but she was stronger than she looked.

  During the attack, she remembered being captured by men as she fled with her mother, and how badly she had been hurt when they turned on each other. She recalled seeing her brother’s frightening gaze, and her mother screaming. Then, while freezing and in pain, she had felt a gentle warmth.

  She had woken the next day at home, beside her father, who had healed her wound with magic. After searching for her through the night, he had finally found her, unconscious but safe, in a house spared by the flames, her injury partially healed.

  He had not been able to find Cerena, but witnesses had seen her leave the village with the soldiers.

  Owen, meanwhile, was nowhere to be found. They did not know where he was or why he had left. Had he gone in search of his mother? Had he been taken or injured? Had he fled? And if so, why?

  The young man knew it was not in his nature to abandon his family, or to run from danger. It made no sense.

  Elvira, on her part, had recovered quickly. Physically, she bore only a faint scar, and a lingering ache where she had been hurt. But the absence of her mother and brother weighed on her. She stayed close to her father, yet willingly helped the rest of the village.

  She had to become stronger. From now on, she would learn to fight for real. She had to continue training her magic. Her inner fire burned brighter than ever. One day, she would find her brother and reunite with her mother. She made that promise to herself.

  ???

  Work in the village progressed well: destroyed roofs were first replaced with stretched fabrics to protect against the elements and retain warmth. The villagers gathered in the untouched buildings or those less damaged. Food supplies had miraculously been spared.

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  Every evening, Elvira would isolate herself from the group to meditate. Her brother had taught her how. By closing her eyes and concentrating deeply, she could feel the heartbeat of those around her. She could sense the warmth they radiated.

  The comforting warmth she had felt the night she was injured had been etched into her memory. She was fully aware of the cost of her mother’s magic and that it had been used in a desperate gesture. She had sacrificed twice over to save her.

  She remembered what had happened before losing consciousness. But when she closed her eyes, another memory seemed to surface: a feeling of being cradled against someone, and a silver figure under the moonlight carrying her gently. She knew Owen had not abandoned her. He had brought her to safety… before disappearing.

  Elvira herself felt fear and sorrow, but also those of others. Yet she refused to give up. She needed her family, and they needed her, wherever they might be. Through courage and resilience, she would help everyone rise again, starting with the village. She also knew she could count on her father, who would help her no matter what.

  ???

  “Dad, who were those soldiers?” she asked one day.

  “I… I’ve heard that your mother and Owen came from a palace, before ending up here,” the young man replied.

  Elvira furrowed her brows.

  “Why did they leave? And how did they get here?”

  He hesitated, searching for his words.

  “I don’t know everything, but it has to do with Owen’s father… someone important. They suffered greatly. When I found them, they were lost in the storm. Owen guided them here after hearing about this village. They… were still trembling from exhaustion and fear.”

  He paused, observing Elvira, hanging on his every word.

  “I think I understand a little better now why they were running,” he murmured at last. “The Empire… it leaves nothing to chance.”

  “The Empire?” she repeated, intrigued. “Does that mean you know where they took Mom?”

  “A significant place, I imagine,” he whispered, shrugging.

  Elvira bit her lip.

  “But what do they want from her?”

  He looked her in the eyes, weighing his words.

  “Hard to say… it’s probably because of her power, and… what she represents for Owen.”

  Elvira tilted her head, silent, reflecting.

  “And if Owen is really who I think he is…” he continued softly. “Listen to me, Elvira. You might not be completely safe here anymore.”

  “Me? But why?”

  He averted his gaze for a moment, then offered a gentle smile.

  “For now, let’s regain our strength. The village deserves our attention. I’ll teach you to defend yourself… and to use your magic better. Just promise me you’ll be patient until then. Trust me.”

  Elvira felt the seriousness in his gaze and, with a mixture of curiosity and understanding, replied,

  “All right. I promise.”

  She clasped her hands, and a gentle warmth flowed from them.