A new heir. Another fleeting face.
And once more, the vow was spoken—unchanged, unbroken, like frost on stone.
Everything had unfolded the same for centuries, as if trapped in an eternal cycle. A thousand names once whispered into being, only to be swept away into the abyss of time.
She no longer remembered how many times it had been. Only that whenever the bloodline called on the day of ascension, she would appear—offering her soul to grant enduring strength. Then she would vanish into the mist-shrouded halls of the Northern Castle, where only snow and moonlight kept her company.
All would go on, like a tale recited and rewritten across countless generations.
Until a voice—gentle, yet trembling with sorrow—rose through the hush.
"Selena…"
That name—untouched by any tongue for centuries—echoed as if from the veil of forgotten dreams. So much so that she had nearly forgotten it was her own. The tender utterance reached deep into the frostbound hollows of her soul, stirring a heartbeat long buried in winter's sleep.
Who…?
Selena lifted her eyes, shards of ancient ice cracking beneath the surface, to meet the gaze before her. And when she saw his face, her breath caught in her chest.
That face, those eyes… once belonged solely to her.
A name, long sealed beneath snow-laden years, trembled on her lips—shivering, broken, almost alien as it escaped her mouth.
"Henry…"
The grand hall fell into stunned silence. A ripple of whispers surged and swelled like a wave crashing against marble columns.
Why would the Northern Witch speak the name of their heroic king—the one who had defeated the mighty Valderath Empire and placed Everen firmly on the world's map as an unshakable power?
What history did they share? And why was it nowhere to be found in the archives?
People looked at one another, bewildered, yet none dared to voice the question aloud.
Only Xavier remained unmoving, his gaze locked upon the Witch of the North. When she spoke his ancestor's name, it was as though she reached into the depths of his soul, calling out to a fragment long adrift. His heart answered—heavy, aching.
Why?
He didn't know.
Only that he couldn't resist. His body responded before his mind could, drawn to her voice like a soul to its tether. He stepped forward, slowly, as though dragging the weight of lifetimes with him.
The closer he came, the clearer she became. Her lashes trembled in the flickering candlelight, ready to fall like snowflakes. Her lips parted, unable to speak, only releasing broken breaths that followed his every step.
The murmurs faded into nothing. The hall held its breath, unable to comprehend the young prince's inexplicable actions.
But Xavier saw nothing else—only the lone figure before him, the woman his heart had recognized before his eyes.
At last, Xavier stopped, just one step away. Her hand lifted toward him, hesitating in midair, afraid to touch, as if he were made of mist and would vanish at her fingertips.
"Henry…"
Her voice broke the hush, this time laced with doubt. As if she no longer trusted her senses, afraid that time and longing had etched Henry's face upon this young prince.
And though Xavier's heart pulsed in answer, it twisted painfully in his chest.
He reached out and took her hand—still suspended, still afraid—and pressed it gently to his cheek—warming the cold that clung to her skin like death.
His voice was barely more than a whisper—half a murmur, half a prayer—so gentle it startled even himself.
"No… I'm Xavier. Just Xavier."
The crimson of her irises narrowed. As though she had awoken from a dream spun in mist. All that stirred within her a moment ago—the flicker of memory, the ache of reunion—fled as if it had never been. Coldness reclaimed her.
The ghost of Henry's voice had haunted too many faces. Yet none have stayed, none knew the war.
Selena withdrew her hand, the absence of her touch left a hollow in Xavier's chest, as though something vital had been torn from him.
He hadn't yet found his voice to protest when she rose into the air, severing every thought and emotion still flooding his soul.
"Let it begin."
Xavier's instinct urged him to reach for her, to plead for her to stay. But his father's voice, like steel behind him, reminded him of duty.
"Xavier, do not waste time."
"…Yes, Father."
Xavier's arm fell limply, the warmth of her hand already fading from his grasp. He stepped back toward the ceremonial altar, stood tall, and looked up, longing, at the figure now suspended above him, wrapped in crimson flame.
Selena gazed down at the face etched into her very soul. Her lips parted, a moment's hesitation before she shut her eyes once more, smothering every spark of feeling just rekindled.
No. Still not him.
She stretched her slender arms outward. A ring of ancient runes ignited beneath Xavier's feet—burning with celestial fire, yet cool to the touch, soothing the storm within.
"I—the Witch of the Northern Keep—under the witness of sky and earth, of moon and star, do solemnly vow to protect the heir to Everen's throne with all my soul, until his final breath."
Her voice held no trace of fragility. It echoed with power through the great hall. Cold. Distant.
"To the heir of the crown, do you consent to bind your soul to mine, that I may shield you and the kingdom of Everen for eternity?"
Pain bloomed inside him—deep and wordless. He didn't want to hear her speak to him this way. Not with that frigid distance in her tone. He wanted her to say his name—softly, with love. Like he had once heard, perhaps in some forgotten dream.
Not as Henry. Not as Crown Prince.
Just… Xavier.
But when he met the stillness in her eyes, the unshifting cold, he had no choice but to utter words that betrayed his own heart.
"I… accept."
And the moment the vow was sealed, fire roared in his chest. A burning brand surged through him. He clutched at his heart, staggering, but remained upright. He knew this was the witch's mark, etching their bond into his very soul.
He looked up. Her vow coursed through his veins, merging with his heartbeat. He could feel her magic seeping into every corner of his being. Yet she remained out of reach, sealed behind a wall of unseen ice.
Their souls were bound, but they could not touch.
That hurt more than any fire burning in his chest.
The flame expanded, engulfing him. Then faded, buried beneath his skin.
The vow was complete.
Power surged through him. It filled his limbs, kindled his blood. His body accepted it.
And so did his heart.
She was inside him now. In body, in soul.
But still not his.
Selena opened her eyes once more, gaze falling upon Xavier. As though connected by an unseen thread, he looked up at the same moment.
So many questions burned behind his lips. Questions that had haunted his dreams, lingered in his bones.
Why did his heart ache with such longing at her presence?
Why did his blood respond to her as if it had always known her?
Why had she called him by the name of his ancestor?
And why… Why did he know her name?
But before he could speak, Selena's eyes fluttered shut once more. Fire erupted around her, consuming her shape.
Sensing what was about to happen, Xavier rushed forward, voice desperate.
"Wait—"
But she was already gone, swallowed by flame, vanishing into the air.
Only drifting ashes remained—soft, weightless, like the ghost of a kiss never given.
He reached out, caught a single ember. Clutched it. Felt its warmth fade between his fingers. It glowed for a heartbeat—then died, like the moment they almost shared.
The scent of smoke lingered, haunting. Like emotions left unsaid, suspended in air.
And her final gaze… that look she gave him before she disappeared… held a sorrow deeper than any abyss.
Why had she looked at him like that?
His body still trembled with a hunger unmet. An ache unresolved.
There were no answers.
He had spent his youth chasing this moment, shaping himself for the crown.
But all he found was a silence that hollowed his chest.
The Northern Witch had retreated once more to her refuge, alone. Untouched. Unreachable.
***