Love turned to anger, the siblings, Winter and Summer, sought seclusion from one another. The north became a place of cold truths and harsh lessons. The south grew into a wild place, burning with passion and insight. Divided yet integral parts of The Unbroken Circle's divine balance. One must know both to know the true nature of the world.

-The First Verses of Creation

Jordan stood by the window of the lord's study, high up on the seventh floor of Orestine Tower. His tower now that he'd accepted his title as Lord of Orestine Province. Watching the near-empty street below, he listened to the click of Lord Hardgrave's talons as the beastman stalked around the room. Large flurries like blizzard moths fell heavily upon Kronanhold, blown in from the gray overcast by strong winds. Even as he gazed upon the snow-strewn landscape, it became harder to see beyond the frosted window.

A large fire burned in the fireplaces of the study and the adjoining bedroom. Similar blazes warmed the room he'd given Haru and Akiko on the floor below. The naturalist had still been angry with Jordan when he'd offered the pair a place to stay, but her reluctant acceptance was a testament to the value of promised warmth, food, and privacy. Llaysl's attendance helped as well.

They were off buying more travel supplies, leaving Jordan to speak with Hardgrave the Younger.

"Not to be brisk with you, sire, but your messenger said you wished to speak with me." Jordan didn't want to come across as rude, but he'd left The Hall of Frost with his fill of playing lord. He needed to reset, instead he was entertaining his visitor.

Hardgrave stopped in front of the fireplace, peering up at a painting of Scoiden Castle upon the banks of The Orestine River.

"They say the previous Lord Scoiden executed my father's first son on the walls of that castle. His corpse had been cast into The Orestine, but his head had been preserved."

Jordan hesitated, unprepared. He remembered that day. Fester Hardgrave had led the beastmen who had joined the yeti in their rebellion. Captured on the day Jordan had been knighted, he and the other prisoners had been marched to Scoiden Castle.

"You were misinformed. Your brother's body was buried in the foothills west of the castle with the my father's family, like the noble he was."

Hardgrave the Younger watched Jordan for a long moment. "That information would have pleased old Jerak. The thought of his blood tossed in a river like trash ate at him for most of his days."

"I never knew it bothered him so."

"He wasn't one to be vulnerable in front of his peers."

"We were friends. At least I thought we were."

"You were. He spoke fondly of you." Hardgrave laughed. "He'd hoped to somehow steal you from your father. He once told me the ultimate revenge would have been to genuinely earn your friendship, to earn your loyalty as counter to your father's bullying way of demanding loyalty."

He watched Jordan for a reaction but only received an understanding nod. This was Winter's way. Summer cut you down in a duel, Winter slit your throat when your back was turned.

Hardgrave stalked across the room to stand at the other window. He watched the thickening snowfall and Jordan watched him. Aside from the coloring of his fur and his slightly stooped posture, Hardgrave the Younger was nearly the spitting image of his father.

"Malcedayne is young and thoughtful with a quick wit and a genuine desire to do what's best for his people..."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"But he's easily manipulated and prone to fits and outbursts. Winter doesn't need a young king. Winter needs a seasoned ruler, willing to put the needs of the many before their own."

Hardgrave's gaze so like his father's that Jordan couldn't help but be transported back to Season's Divide and Shakia's limp form. What have we done?

"In this desperate time, inexperience could mean the death of us. If we can have a choice in who will be the vessel and ruler, shouldn't the choice be someone who fully grasps the weight of their actions?"

Jordan remained silent, aware that in that moment both speaking and holding his tongue held a dangerous weight. Hardgrave's words bordered on treason. Participating in the conversation could implicate him in the brewing conspiracy.

"What's the political situation in Summer?" Jordan asked, dancing around the beastman's questioning.

"Fractured. They've broken into three factions who vie for territory and resources. The forever winter has only just begun to kill off their forests, but they've been stockpiling against this. As refugees attempt to cross their northern border, they're either killed or conscripted." Hardgrave growled. "If they weren't stuck in this three-way power struggle, they'd have the resources and force of arms to sack us right now. Our only advantage is their leaders have lost their connection to The Light while most of us can still channel a bit of Night."

Jordan thought about the beautiful land of his youth, war torn and ruled by power-hungry warlords. Summer suddenly sounded a lot like Winter. A thought that troubled him greatly.

"Has no one tried to reawaken the season?" The look Hardgrave shot him made Jordan feel like the out of touch buffoon that he was. "So they've tried and failed..."

"Reports say they've tried and died. Our last peaceful communications with the south were before the assassins killed old King Malcin. Four had made the attempt to become the vessel and each was charred to cinders. Since then there have been rumors, but our spies can only learn so much."

"Spies... Summer was once our ally, we shared information and resources in times of need."

"Those days died when–" Hardgrave scratched behind his ear like a hound. "Diplomacy failed when Summer did."

Jordan closed his eyes for a moment and breathed. That ever-present weight of consequences, big and small, pressed inward. For a moment Jordan retreated to his lessons from Sir Oberon. Harsh and grueling, the mere memory of them was enough to crowd out everything else. When he opened his eyes, Hardgrave the Younger watched him with an almost brotherly concern.

"I have other responsibilities to attend to, but think about what I've said. Winter needs saving, however it can be done."

Hardgrave left the window and crossed the room to slip out the door. Jordan listened as the beastman's talons tapped the song of his departure. The clicking traversed the hall and descended the stairs.

The Lord of The Savage South, as Highwing and Kjord had called him, had taken over administration of Castle Isdaggen in recent years, filling in for King Malcedayne who had fallen I'll a few years ago. In all but name, Hardgrave ruled the capital and, by extension, Winter. The King seemed content with their arrangement, and Hardgrave still answered to the table. It surprised Jordan that a man with so much to lose would hint at action that would strip his power from him.

I remember that day vividly. Isdaggen and the merchant's quarter were like a nest of blizzard wasps, buzzing and zipping about as everyone prepared for the expedition's departure. Most of Kronanhold knew that long lost Lord Scoiden had returned from the dead and would join the trip into the frozen north, but, due to the nature of legends and their retellings, very few knew of his connection to the fabled Sunkiller. Even among those of us who did know, it was hard to imagine that he would once again change our world so drastically. After that night, nothing was ever the same.

Jordan dreamed a new dream that night. He floated in an inky darkness. Shakia, a beacon of light and beauty, circled just out of reach. An arm's length beyond her was a twin with skin so dark it was nearly lost by the void. Haru. Shakia's light sunk into her, infusing the sleeping naturalist with...

The sound of breaking pottery and the panicked shout of a little girl snapped him into wakefulness. At first, his ears could only perceive the howling of the storm winds outside. He listened intently, beyond his unfamiliar bedchamber, beyond the hall, down and down. A gasp, something falling to the floor like a sack of potatoes. The unnatural silence followed. Another gasp, another sack.

Jordan slid out from under his heavy comforter and crossed the room, grabbing Wyrm's Tooth and a knife as we went. Easing the door open, he crept to the steps with an ear for the wayward sounds below. Descending the stairs, he was reminded of his youth and vain attempts to escape his father's home. He hadn't always been a dutiful son. In the beginning, he felt like a prisoner of Lord Scoiden. In many ways, he was.

Two floors down, he came upon a strange taboo. Snow gathered beneath an open window, the howling winds winding their way into the structure. Boot prints trailed through the snow, marking someone's path in from the street. Ten feet from the window, the wooden panels and floor had twisted, coming alive to sprout branches and fresh leaves in a crisscrossing barrier that blocked off the hallway.

Stealing into a servant's rooms, Jordan navigated around covered furniture still dusty from disuse. Touching an inconspicuous panel on the wall, he opened a narrow passage connecting with another servant's quarters on the other side of the wall of overgrowth. The door to the hallway was open and there was a body on the floor, features serene and limbs slack. He recognized her face from the dozen staffers who worked to make Orestine Tower inhabitable, but he couldn't remember her name.

Kneeling to check her vital signs, he found she was in some kind of deep sleep. Moving her away from the door, Jordan closed it behind him as he entered the hallway behind the barrier. He continued down the hall, listening for more signs of whomever had invaded his place. Going down another flight of stairs he found two more sleeping servants. Their faces were calm but the odd and uncomfortable arrangements of their bodies highlighted the unnatural nature of their slumber.

"No!" Akiko shouted from the floor below. "Leave Haru alone!"

Adrenaline surged through Jordan like lightning as he charged down the steps. He hurried in the direction of her voice and came to a door, torn off its hinges by long branches protruding from the floorboards. He vaulted the obstruction and came to a sitting room. A pale woman in damp robes pinned one of Akiko's arms painfully behind her back. The chain worked into her black hair was the rosary of the naturalist order. Two men also in wet robes stood in the center of the room, their backs to Jordan. One held Haru's face between his hands, the air around them crackling with eldritch energy. The other man held a thick wooden staff in the crook of her arm and spoke in a weathered voice full of authority.

"Haru of The Sunken Cherry Grove, you are accused of breaking your oath of fealty to The Order. You've been charged with the theft of apocryphal artifacts, the abduction and corruption of an Order fledgling, and flight from Order justice. For these crimes you've been sentenced to censorship."

The last word tumbled out of the man's mouth with the ringing thunder of dangerous finality. Haru whimpered, but seemed unable to move or speak.

"Snag Walden, please don't hurt her–" Akiko's words clipped off as the woman gave her arm a little twist.

"Enough, child. Be still," she snapped.

"No, stop–"

Akiko spotted Jordan as he brought his blade up to Snag Walden's throat. The man hissed and the woman's eyes widened.

"Release her," Jordan said through clenched teeth.

"My Lord Scoiden, this is a matter of The Order. It does not concern The Lords of Win–" Snag Walden fell silent as Jordan's knife bit into his throat.

The woman holding Akiko looked stricken, but the man pressing his magik against Haru didn't even seem to notice what was happening around him.

"You've made it my business, by entering my home, attacking my people, and threatening my friends." Jordan's voice grew cold. "Make him stop whatever he's doing to her."

"Lord Scoiden, The Order of Natural Preservation have governed our own as we've seen fit for hundreds of generations. Believe me, this matter should not cause conflict between leadership and–" He choked as Jordan pushed the blade a little deeper, drawing blood.

"Stop! You can't!" The woman reached for Jordan and Akiko stomped heavily on her foot.

The woman yelped and the little girl wriggled free. Raising her hands, Akiko shouted an arcane word. Jordan felt the air leave his chest as a gust of wind slammed into the man holding Haru, breaking his concentration and hurling him across the room. Haru dropped to her knees and slumped over. Snag Walden tapped the wooden floorboards with his staff and it rippled like the surface of a rushing river. The small coffee table at the center of the room overturned as the man rode a ripple out of Jordan's reach.

Snag Walden took a deep hungry breath and the female naturalist gasped for the air snatched from their lungs by Akiko's magik. Jordan rushed the man, refilling his lungs as an afterthought. He needed to stay close to the naturalist or his magik would easily prove too much of an advantage. Twirling the thick staff with deft nimbleness, Snag Walden met Jordan's charge. Jordan dodged easily, but the staff did strange things to the air with each wide arch. It pulled at him like a strong current on every other pass.

Akiko struggled with the woman, shoving her arms and stomping on her feet whenever she attempted to get near.

"My Lord, I am about to break a number of your bones. You'll have to forgive me." Snag Walden swiped his staff to the right and Jordan was nearly yanked off his feet in that direction. He chopped at Jordan's shoulder, and Jordan snaked aside and cut his arm.

Snag Walden hissed. "Ah, you are a warrior then?" He changed the twirl of his staff and Jordan felt himself being pushed backwards.

The man's eyes lit up at the same moment Jordan heard the third naturalist speak words of magik. He spun around and crossed his arms placing his knife and Wyrm's Tooth in front of him. Magik ripped along his flesh then soaked into the broken blade. His arms fell limp as if he'd been dosed with sleepiness.

"And now the breaking begins," Snag Walden sang, moving in with his thick weapon.

A side door burst open and Haiku hurled a glass vase across the room. The third naturalist screamed as his face became a blossom of glass and blood. Akiko kicked the woman in the shin and ran to Haru, who still hadn't moved. As Snag Walden turned to face the ratkin, Jordan shoulder tackled him to the floor. Arms slack, he kicked the naturalist in the head. Blinded by glass, the younger naturalist cried out and the floor came to life, the wood twisting and grabbing.

"Initiate Holt!" Snag Walden shouted.

The woman spoke and a blinding fog spewed from her lips to fill the room.

"Jordan!" Akiko cried.

"Lord Scoiden," Haiku called meekly.

"The Order will have its justice." This came as a whisper on howling winds as a window was flung open.

Dizzy, Jordan stumbled back until he could feel the solid security of the study wall. A dozen shadows rushed about, and Jordan strained to see through the obscurity. The fog dissipated, replaced by freezing snow. While Haiku rushed to shut the window, the floor creaked then fell still. Jordan scanned the room. The naturalists were gone and feeling was returning to his arms. Akiko stood protectively over Haru, shivering in the center of a ring of branches. Jordan wondered what he'd gotten himself into by interrupting.

Haiku joined Jordan against the wall, a wooden candlestick clutched in a shaking hand.

"Those were naturalists, sire."

"I know."

"I just attacked a naturalist."

"You were very brave, Haiku Rin. You might have saved me and my friends."

Jordan watched the window, wondering if his eyes looked as nervous as the ratkin's.

A pair of servants arrived in the hall and diligently worked to move the broken door and newly grown branches. Haiku went to assist and Jordan pressed through the ring in the middle of the room until he was beside Akiko.

"How is she?"

"They were going to censor her." She looked up with eyes wide and brimming with tears.

"I don't know what that means," he admitted.

"The Code says: We can only kill in the most dire of circumstances, when the possibility of more loss outweighs the life of the one. Censorship is the alternative to killing. They erase what you know, all of it, every last bit. I think Initiate Nimitz had already started before Snag Walden had pronounced sentence."

Jordan took a moment to process the idea of The Order having the power to wipe someone's memory. He'd never heard of such magiks before.

"So they've wiped her mind?"

"I... I think they started to."

They both stared down at the Haru shaped thing laying at their feet. The expedition was scheduled to leave in a few days. If a part of her mind had been erased, he couldn't leave her like this. It was true that Jordan barely knew them, except that Haru had apparently abducted Akiko from The Order. She was a kidnapper who might have rightfully earned her fate, but she was also attacked under his roof which made her his responsibility.

That's what he told himself as he gave orders to the servants to sweep the house. He didn't dwell on the other reason he felt protective of her, the face she shared with Shakia.