An image from the past lingers in someone's dream. A gale sweeps through the forest, twisting the trees branches like restless fingers reaching toward the sky. The leaves spiral through the air, caught in the storm, spinning faster with each passing moment.

Suddenly, a vision emerges, a familiar figure of a man holding a small, trembling child. Her golden eyes are wide with fear and grief, glowing as tears streak down her cheeks. Yet it's not her sadness that shakes the earth, it's the surge of wild, untamed power building inside her.

The man's hair is pitch black, and his face is hidden. Only his broad back and shoulders are visible, cloaked in a weathered blue cape. He crouches low, bracing against the chaos, his left shoulder nailed in the jaws of a colossal green fox. The creature's fur is a rich mossy green, was woven with delicate vines and tiny blossoms, its amber eyes blazing. Its fangs were dug into his flesh, as if determined to tear him away from the girl. But the man didn't flinch. Despite the blood trickling from the wound, he held the child closer.

Around them, the forest reacts to her turmoil. Trees bend and sway unnaturally, their trunks creaking as roots uncoil from the ground like serpents. The leaves swirl faster, rising higher into the tempest.

"It's okay, Clara. I'm here now. I promise. No one's going to hurt you," he whispers, his voice deep but unwavering, like a calm anchor against the storm. Spoken by someone who understands the depth of her unfamiliar magic. The trees tremble in response, but his hold never wavers. He will not let go, no matter the cost.

Suddenly, the vision shatters like glass.

A sharp gasp echoes through the silence of the room. Cold air fills the lungs of the sleeper, yanking her from the storm of the dream into reality. She moved upright, sweat dampening her forehead, her heart racing. Her icy blue hair clings messily to her skin.

"C... Clara?" Adeline groans, wincing at the phantom pain in her shoulder, as if the fox's bite had been real.

She clenches her fists in frustration. "I feel like an intruder in someone else's past. That's quite rude, isn't it?"

Brushing her hair aside, she wipes the sweat still trickling down her face.

"If... only I could control this ability." she muttered, her chest heave and then fell slightly.

The night presses on, quiet and unyielding, as she composes herself and lies back down, hoping for a more peaceful sleep.

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🌷 Adeline's POV 🌿

The morning sun filtered through the tall windows, casting a soft glow on the table between us. Lucien sat across from me. The scent of fresh bread and herbs wafted up, but I barely noticed. My mind was elsewhere while I took a glance at him.

Looking back on my marriage, I now see how pathetic I must have seemed. It's embarrassing, really. Running away like that, out of sheer desperation, without any real understanding of how cruel Wintermere's winters could be or how the forests hide monsters, waiting to devour someone.

I'm just glad he was there. If he hadn't found me in time, I would've been torn apart by a dire wolf. I can still picture its jaws, and I think they are capable of shattering bones with a single bite.

After that, I thought if I could just be honest with him, if I could open myself up, even a little, maybe he'd show me some kindness. Maybe he'd see my fear for what it was: the terror of being trapped, shackled by a marriage I never wanted. I had hoped he'd understand what I was truly longing for.

To my surprise, he didn't try to hold me back. He let me go. Not because he didn't care, but because he did. He understood my need to see my parents again, to remind myself of who I was before I became... his.

Somehow, in the days that followed, I began to see past the icy walls he had built around himself, through the people close to him, walls that even they couldn't always breach.

 I admit the duke is a kind person, I will not deny that.

In this world, where marriage is a duty for nobles like me, I had heard of noblewomen being forced into unions with old viscounts or barons. Knowing that... was I truly lucky to have him?

My parents had always been cautious. They turned down every proposal, offering vague reasons such as concerns about family background, fortune, or whispers of ill behavior. I was beginning to think no one would ever satisfy their standards. Yet when the Duke came across their path, there was no hesitation.

But now, I can't help but wonder... did my parents see something that I couldn't? Or were they simply playing the game, just as every other noble family does?

Last night, he assigned me the responsibility of managing the estate. I still can't decide if it's a burden or a gift. As the daughter of a viscount, my father never let me avoid learning about such matters, so I'm fairly confident in my ability to fulfill my duties as a duchess. But back in Veridonia, I was shocked at the sheer weight of the responsibility.

Though, as his wife, I can't bring myself to do such a thing as other couples do—sharing a bed...

I'm just not prepared for that. I'm relieved he hasn't brought that up, though i can tell he doesn't even care at all.

For the time being, I just need to do what's expected of me. After all, as my mother always said, 'Duty comes first, even when the heart hesitates.'

As for him leaving, He didn't even explain why he's patrolling. Does he really trust me?

And now, here we are. Quiet and awkward.

His eyes are focused on his food, his expression calm and then he suddenly looks up at me. His gaze is sharp, but there's no anger or annoyance in it.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, his voice perfectly composed.

"You don't have to force yourself to eat if you don't want to," he added.

I felt a lump forming in my throat as I swallowed. "No, it's not like that, don't worry about it." I paused for a moment before adding, "Have you seen Clara? She's not here with us."

He held my gaze for a moment longer than necessary before replying, "She already had breakfast before us and is off exploring the estate again."

"Is that really alright? Her wandering alone?" I said, my concern evident.

"Ivy is with her," he assured me.

"I see. She really is a curious child, isn't she?" I added with a light chuckle.

He only responded with a quiet hum, offering no real comment. This man is no fun at all. No wonder he always seems so distant.

"Today is your departure, right, Your grace?" I asked awkwardly.

"Yes," he replied, his tone clipped but calm.

We ate in silence, the clinking of utensils filling the space between us. I took a small bite of the freshly baked bread, the warm crust crumbling against my fingers. The flavor was rich, infused with chives.

He sliced into a piece of omelette with his knife, his movements is quite accurate. I watched him and my frustration is swirling. Why did he have to be so composed, so infuriatingly perfect? He's so boring.

"Is it really that hard to talk over breakfast?" I mused, breaking the stillness.

He paused, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow. "It's not hard for me. Perhaps you're the one who finds it difficult."

I narrowed my eyes, more amused than offended. "Touché."

How did Clara manage to endure this man? Did being his niece come with a handbook on how to deal with insufferable uncles?

He returned to his meal, and I followed suit, though I couldn't shake the lingering sense of distance. I wanted to bridge the gap, to ask him about Clara, about the past I saw in my dream last night. The man who was holding Clara—it was obviously him. And that fox... I believe it was Clara's familiar, Ivy. I didn't know it had the ability to grow that large, but those amber eyes made it clear she was only protecting her. 

Well, knowing what that familiar was capable of, I think Clara will be fine on her own.

"Your Grace, may I ask why you're leaving?" I asked curiously.

He stopped eating, his gaze settling on me, and it's making me nervous.

"Just... Something significant enough to require my attention," he replied.

I held his gaze for a moment, searching for more, but his expression gave nothing away. With a quiet sigh, I nodded and returned to my meal. The clinking of utensils resumed.

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🌟 3rd Person POV 🪄

At the gates, Lucien prepared to take his leave, offering Clara a smile as he bid her goodbye. Clara hesitated, her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress. It was clear she didn't want to let her uncle go. Noticing her sadness, Lucien, dressed in his regal black coat adorned with golden embroidery and a fur-lined cloak, knelt to meet her eye level.

"I'll return for you soon," he reassured her. "This time, I won't just stand around in the manor. I hope you understand."

Clara nodded reluctantly, and Lucien gave her one last reassuring smile before standing.

"Your Grace?" Adeline's voice called out as she approached him.

Lucien turned, "Hm?" He was about to respond further but paused when Adeline stepped closer. Without warning, she reached up and gently tapped his cheek. A soft, warm glow of light shimmered where her fingers made contact to his skin, trailing down from his cheek to his neck and settling faintly at his collar.

"Please, be careful," she said softly.

Lucien remained calm, though he could feel the warmth of her fingers lingering on his skin. He met her gaze without flinching, his expression composed as always. However, the moment was interrupted by a few servants nearby, who froze mid-task, their eyes wide with surprise.

One of them whispered, "Did the duchess just... touch the duke's face?"

Another gasped quietly, "Like something lovers would do!"

Lucien's eyebrow twitched, catching their murmurs, but he chose not to address it. Adeline withdrew her hand, her focus entirely on the spell she had placed on him.

With a quiet sigh, Lucien gave her a small nod. "Right," he said, He could hear the servants whispering behind him as they tried not to giggle.

As he turned, Sir Percival and Sir Leo were already waiting for him outside the gates, their capes blowing playfully in the wind. Lucien reached for his horse, and together they rode away, slowly disappearing from sight.

Clara stood still, watching her uncle disappear into the distance. She looked down, her small shoulders drooping. Adeline, sensing her sadness, gave her a soft smile and knelt beside her.

Without a word, Ivy suddenly emerged from the grass nearby. She twined her way around Clara's feet, chittering softly, her green fur glimmering in the noonday sun. Clara blinked, distracted by the gentle movements of her familiar, and crouched down to stroke her.

"It's all right to miss him," Adeline murmured, placing a hand on Clara's back. "But know that Ivy and I will keep you company. We'll be here; the duke wouldn't like seeing you sad, right?"

Ivy let out a series of soft clicks, nudging Clara's hand, and the young girl let out a quiet giggle. The sound was faint but enough to lift the heavy air around them.

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🦊 Adeline's POV 🌸

The estate of the duke's manor is vast, its greenery stretching endlessly under the soft noon light. Clara walks beside me, her small hand wrapped around mine, and the world feels quiet and peaceful. The chirping of birds fills the air, and a cool breeze stirs the leaves, brushing gently against our faces. Gardeners trim the hedges as we pass, nodding in greeting.

Clara's grip tightens around my hand, and I glance at her. She hasn't spoken ever since we left the gate, her usual bright smile absent. Ivy walks quietly on her other side, and for a moment, a flicker of worry settles in my chest. Maybe she just needs someone to hold on to, and I'm more than happy to be that someone. She is adorable, after all, and I can't imagine refusing her. Still, I wonder... is there something on her mind?

I squeeze her hand gently in return, hoping the gesture says what words can't.

As for the Duke, I placed a small spell on him earlier, just in case. It's nothing harmful; it's more of a repellant, really, something that will protect him. I can track him from anywhere, and if necessary, I can appear at his side. Considering all he has done for me, I owe him. It's only fair that I repay the favor, even if he never asks.

He shouldn't underestimate me. Lumina is one of the most effective elements when dealing with Umbra, out of all nine. I am also known as one of the most gifted mages in my house(Wycliffe) after all. Even if he notices the spell I placed, he can't remove it unless I release it myself. And though I'm not a trained swordswoman, my father ensured I could defend myself. It may not be perfect, but I've learned enough to hold my own if it comes to it.

Thinking back to the moment I touched his cheek and let my fingers trail to his neck, he could have easily slapped my hand away, but he didn't. 

Come to think of it... Is he the type of a man who gets flustered?

No way. He doesn't even flinch, though. But maybe... Just maybe he was a little surprised? 

In any case, it worked in our favor. Now the maids will think we've grown closer, silencing those pesky rumors that spread simply because I went to the capital. Whispers of a loveless marriage, an affair, failure to produce an heir, political rift, or even abandonment and divorce—they are infuriating, but today may finally put an end to them. If left unchecked, they could have damaged our names and led others to question the strength of our marriage. For now, this should quiet the gossip and keep our reputation intact.

I am only doing this to silence them. Nothing more, really.

Clara looks up at me, her golden eyes brimming with curiosity. I catch my breath for a moment. I won't lie, they're mesmerizing.

Where did she inherit them from, I wonder? It's such a rare trait. According to Rose, Clara's mother's family, House Branwen, is known for their smoky gray eyes. Then her father's side there's House Valenhart, known for their deep, dark blue eyes. 

Her being an illegitimate child is out of the question, though. Traits can be unpredictable across generations, especially in noble families. With that unmistakable black hair of hers, there's no doubt she's a Valenhart through and through. 

Also in my dream, her eyes were glowing. Something about them... that I can't pinpoint really.

"Duchess?" Clara's soft voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I blink, realizing I've been staring at her the whole time. Her wide, curious eyes search mine, and something stirs in my chest. 

I give her hand a gentle squeeze and smile, though I feel a bit flustered myself. "Oh, Clara... what is it?" I ask, my voice catching slightly as I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

She doesn't answer right away, but her fingers grip mine a little tighter, and her gaze lowers as if she's gathering the courage to speak. "I... I'm glad you're with me," she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words are simple, but they land with unexpected weight. My heart swells.

"I'm glad too," I reply, a soft laugh escaping me to cover the sudden rush of warmth I feel. "You've been quiet since your uncle left though. Sometimes I wonder what you're thinking."

She looks up again, and there's something more vulnerable in her eyes this time. "I guess... I'm just afraid. Afraid of being alone." Her voice wavers slightly, but she smiles, as if trying to brush the fear away. 

That word echoes in my mind, and for a moment, I feel protective in a way I hadn't fully realized before. I stop walking and turn to face her, pulling her into a gentle hug before I can think better of it. Her small frame presses against mine, and I feel her relax, leaning into the embrace.

"You'll never be alone," I whisper, my voice firm despite the softness of the moment. "I promise,"

My words come out naturally, while holding her. I can't imagine letting her go.

Is it because Lucien is not with her that she acts like this? Though this is quite out of impulse of me, I just feel like I have to protect her somehow, while Lucien wasn't around.

When we finally pull apart, she looks up at me with those brilliant eyes of hers and smiles but this time, a genuine, bright smile.

"Thank you," she whispers, and for once, I don't feel the need to say anything more. We continue our walk through the gardens, her hand still in mine, and the distance between us, both literal and emotional, feels smaller than ever.