For a moment, everything was still.
The lights of the Mirage Fair hung motionless in the air, frozen mid-glow, as if time itself had stopped listening to the music. Even the wind had gone quiet.
Then came the cold.
It crept across the ground like a living thing, spreading from somewhere unseen, touching the tips of my shoes before I even realized what was happening. I looked down and the stone beneath us had turned to ice.
"Lucian…" I called softly as fear got the best of me. My voice came out as a whisper, fragile against the silence.
He didn't answer. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, his body tense, every movement deliberate as if even breathing too loudly might shatter the fragile stillness surrounding us.
And then, out of the mist, a figure began to take shape.
Tall. Regal. Wrapped in layers of frost so thick that the air around him shimmered. The faint sound of cracking ice followed each step he took.
Lucian's hand twitched at his side, but he didn't do anything.
