🌸 Adeline's POV 🌿

The gentle sway of the carriage lulled me into quiet reflection as I gazed out at the passing countryside. The rhythm of the wheels on the cobblestones mirrored the rhythm of my thoughts—steady but restless. This was my journey back to the Duke's manor in the capital, but my heart lingered elsewhere, still clutching the warmth of my parents' embrace.

I leaned against the carriage window, my gloved fingers tracing the glass. Adeline Valenhart, Duchess of Wintermere. I couldn't decide if this title fit me or if it would swallow me whole.

The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows over the road, but my thoughts remained elsewhere. My mind kept wandering back to the days I had spent with my parents. Those past few days had been nothing short of a blessing.

I could still see my mother's smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she saw me standing at their main door. She had rushed forward, arms wide, pulling me into the warmest embrace, while my father stood just behind her, his stoic facade crumbling as he grinned with unmistakable pride.

"It's been a while, my dear Adeline," my mother had said, her voice thick with emotion as she stroked my hair.

Even the servants had gathered, beaming as they welcomed me home. It was as if nothing had changed between us, despite the new title I carried. The manor had bustled with life during my visit—meals filled with laughter, walks in the garden with my mother, and long talks with my father by the hearth. It was a happiness that seemed to stretch endlessly, a kind of joy I hadn't realized how much I missed.

For all of this, I couldn't thank the Duke enough. The thought of his generosity brought a smile to my lips. For all his cool reserve, he had a way of showing his care in unexpected but deeply meaningful ways.

I regretted my first misinterpretation of him. If the man spent his days hiding behind a stern mask, then no one could blame me for thinking poorly of him at first, could they?

Now, as the carriage rolled toward his manor in Veridonia, I reflected on his words. He had mentioned I should pay it a visit, though he hadn't insisted—but after granting me the opportunity to see my parents, I felt as if I owed him this much.

The carriage began to slow, and as I glanced out the window, I saw the familiar stone walls of the Duke's estate coming into view. The manor rose before me, grand and imposing, though no longer as intimidating as it had once seemed.

As the carriage came to a stop, I straightened my posture, smoothing down my dress as a mixture of anticipation and nostalgia swirled within me. It had been four days since I arrived in the capital, and now here I was again, standing at the gates of his manor.

I still remembered my first impression of him and my initial visit here.

When I approached the gate, the butler and maids greeted me with quick bows.

"Greetings to the Duchess. We have been expecting your arrival, Your Grace," they said in unison.

Had Lucien already anticipated my visit? How could he have known? I hadn't mentioned how long I planned to stay with my parents before coming here.

Hearing them call me "Duchess" still sounded sweet, albeit a bit foreign to my ears. I supposed I hadn't yet fully adjusted to my new title. Marrying a Duke still felt surreal at times.

After their warm welcome, curiosity stirred within me. I realized that, despite my previous visits, I had only ever seen the study. The manor held so much more than that.

"Would it be possible to have a tour of the manor?" I asked, smiling politely. "I realize I've only seen a small part of it before."

The butler, standing tall and formal, dipped his head slightly. "Of course, Your Grace. It would be our pleasure to show you around."

At his gesture, the maids stepped forward, ready to assist. One of them, a young woman with kind eyes, led the way with quiet grace, while the butler explained the layout as we walked.

The grand corridors stretched endlessly, adorned with tapestries, chandeliers, and portraits of his ancestors.

Even though I knew I'd never remember their names or faces, I thought, oh well.

Each room we passed seemed to tell its own story—lavish ballrooms, sunlit drawing rooms, and elegant libraries brimming with ancient tomes.

The library, in particular, caught my attention. I'd like to read those old tomes when I have the time. The thought intrigued me.

The manor, now that I could see it in its entirety, felt like a labyrinth of both beauty and secrets.

I couldn't help but glance around as the tour went on, wondering what more might be concealed beyond these imposing walls. Though I felt a tug of curiosity, I forced myself to let it go. Still, I smiled, grateful for the kindness and diligence of the staff as they led me through the sprawling estate.

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After the tour, I was approached by the head maid, Rose, a woman whose expression was as stern and disciplined as a soldier standing at attention. She had ash-brown hair styled in an elegant crown braid, and her piercing silver eyes seemed to take in everything at a glance. She had the same vibe as the duke—no nonsense, perfectly upright, and possibly able to frighten wolves with a single look. It was uncanny, really, how alike they were. I had to wonder if there was some sort of secret training all people in his household went through.

"Duchess," Rose said, her tone firm but not unkind, "the Duke requested before you came here that I should escort you to his study."

Ah yes, the study, the place where we once exchanged words. Well, after we talk about our arrange marriage, he exchanged words; I mostly just stared at him like some sort of enchanted woodland creature and only responded with a short response, captivated by the way his deep voice curled around each syllable. I could've listened to him reading a book while he was saying it out loud and been perfectly content.

I shook my head, snapping myself out of the thought. No time for daydreaming, Adeline. Get a hold of yourself!

This wasn't some based on the novel i read where the distant, handsome duke falls madly in love with the woman who bakes the best pie or happens to trip gracefully into his arms. No, this was real life or at least real enough in my world, where marriage was about duty, not romance. He had been kind, yes, and generous, certainly, but only because it was his obligation. No doubt about it. My intuition was definitely right. Probably.

I followed Rose into the duke's study, my steps light as if walking to my doom. As soon as we entered the room, I stopped dead in my tracks, my polite smile faltering into what I imagine was the expression of someone who just saw their house burst into flames.

There, on the duke's grand mahogany desk, was the tallest, most intimidating stack of paperwork I had ever seen in my life. It was as if the duke had personally requested an entire forest be sacrificed to bury me alive in documents.

"W-What is...?" I stammered, waving vaguely at the mountain of papers.

Rose folded her hands neatly in front of her, her stern expression unchanged. "The Duke's paperwork, Madam. He has requested that you see to its completion during your stay in the capital."

I blinked. "He... he what now?"

She gestured with the tiniest nod of her head, as though this was all perfectly reasonable. "It is mostly correspondence. Letters from other nobles, estate matters, tax documents, military reports, household management, contracts that need reviewing. Typical responsibilities for someone in your position, Your grace"

"Typical..." I echoed, staring at the paper mountain like it had personally insulted my ancestors.

"And," she added, with the faintest flicker of amusement.

Oh yes, I caught that.

"some of it has been awaiting attention for several months. The Duke trusted you would handle it, perfectly."

My brain was struggling to catch up. Several months' worth? so this is the paperwork's before I got married to him? And I was supposed to sort it out? Me? Was he serious? The duke had given me this as a task? A parting gift of bureaucratic torture?

I narrowed my eyes. "Did... did he do this on purpose?"

Rose, still impassive, shook her head. "The duke is a busy man, Madam. He mostly spends his time in Wintermere. He simply assumed you would appreciate the opportunity to assist in the capital."

Assist? This wasn't assisting, this was drowning in administrative hell. And the worst part was that I could practically hear his deep, calm voice explaining it to me with that infuriatingly gentle tone, like it was all very reasonable. He probably didn't even think twice about it.

My eyes narrowed further, but this time at the stack of papers. I leaned closer, as if whispering to the enemy. "He knew. He definitely knew. That bastard."

Rose cleared her throat, interrupting my mental conspiracy. "Shall I explain the categories, Madam?"

I straightened, pushing down my rising frustration with a forced smile. "Please do, Rose. Enlighten me."

Rose gestured toward the desk with all the precision of a seasoned general, pointing out battle strategy. "The pile to the left is filled with letters from various nobles. Most require polite but non-committal responses. The middle stack pertains to estate finances. Balancing the accounts should take some time."

"How much time, exactly?" I asked warily.

"Several hours, if not more," she replied, without missing a beat.

"I see, I figured."

Rose continued, pointing to the final, most terrifying pile. "This is where things get slightly more delicate, military orders and reports that the Duke, as nephew to the Emperor, must review and approve. You must exercise great caution here, Madam. Any mistake could lead to diplomatic... discomfort."

"Discomfort," I repeated flatly. "You mean war."

Rose smiled faintly, a smile that did not at all make me feel better. "Precisely."

I slumped into the chair behind the desk, glaring at the paperwork as if I could burst these papers into flames. Maybe if I stared hard enough, it would. "So, he allowed me to go to the capital," I said slowly, "under the pretense of visiting my parents, just to handle this?"

"It is a privilege to be entrusted with such matters," Rose replied, her voice unwavering.

"A privilege," I muttered. "A privilege indeed."

I leaned back in the chair, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. If I survived this, I deserved an award, a medal of some kind. Maybe a parade. At the very least, a large feast.

Rose, with all the patience of a saint, began sorting through the papers as though the situation were perfectly ordinary. Meanwhile, I stared at the endless sea of ink and parchment, questioning not just my life choices, but the nature of the universe itself.

There was no way he'd given me this responsibility without knowing the havoc it would wreak on my peace of mind. The duke was cunning, that much was clear. The real question was whether he found this amusing or not.

And the most troubling thought of all?

I think he did.

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After what felt like an eternity of sorting through that hellish mountain of paperwork, I collapsed into the soft embrace of my bed. The blankets cocooned around me, warm and inviting, but despite their comfort, sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned, my mind replaying every maddening detail of the day.

He's going to pay for this. I won't forgive him.

But as much as I wanted to stew in my righteous indignation, fatigue was beginning to win the battle. My eyelids drooped, heavier with each breath. I deserved this rest. No, I had earned it.

Just as I was about to drift off, something strange happened. Behind my closed eyes, a dim light flickered. At first, I thought I might be dreaming, but I was too tired to open my eyes and check. Forget it. Let it be.

The darkness of sleep swept over me like a familiar friend, but then the light reappeared, stronger now, pale and flickering like a dying flame. I felt it and sensed it—cold and eerie—nothing like the peaceful slumber I had expected. My magic, Lumina, usually soothed me into restful dreams, but this... this was different.

Suddenly, the light brightened, and when I opened my eyes—or perhaps I was already dreaming—I found myself standing in the middle of a forest covered in snow. The trees loomed around me, their skeletal branches twisting and tangling above like gnarled hands reaching for the sky. The air was icy, suffocating, and pressing down on my chest.

I could barely breathe.

And then, from the shadows, a figure emerged. My heart stuttered. It was him.

Lucien. But not as I knew him. This Lucien was younger, barely a boy, caught on the cusp of manhood. His face was pale with terror, and his sword trembled in his hand. Behind him, dark figures dangled grotesquely from the branches, their faces hidden in shadow, their bodies dripping blood that pooled onto the snow-covered ground.

I froze. My breath hitched in my throat, terror clenching around my lungs. The cold light of my magic flickered, revealing the bloodied faces of the dead. Nobles. They were quite familiar.

No, don't tell me... they are Lucien's family. I remembered now that I had seen their faces in the portrait in the manor. And there were more—peasants, knights, men, and women I didn't recognize. Their features were twisted in agony, and their lifeless eyes were fixed on eternal suffering.

Lucien turned toward me, his boyish face contorted with fear and grief, his eyes pleading, but no sound came from his lips. He looked directly at me, as if he could see me.

Did he know I was here, witnessing this horror?

The light grew brighter, unbearably so, until it seared into my vision. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it burned through my closed lids, branding the image into my mind. The cold, the fear, the blood—I could feel it all as if it were my own.

I woke with a violent gasp, my body jerking upright in bed. My heart hammered against my ribs, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. My skin felt damp with sweat, yet the chill of that dream clung to me, as if I had brought it back from whatever terrible place I had wandered.

"What... was that?" I whispered, pressing my trembling hands to my face.

That was no ordinary dream.

I knew my magic allowed me to have peaceful dreams, especially after a long day. But this? This was something entirely different. This dream felt too real. And then the truth hit me with the force of a gale.

I had seen his past. Lucien's past. That young boy, his terror, the bloodied bodies, the horror in his eyes—it was a memory. One of his memories.

My breath caught again as I tried to piece it together. How could this happen? I had not touched him. My ability as a wielder of Lumina was supposed to reveal someone's past through physical contact, and that contact would manifest in dreams. But I hadn't touched him. Not once, not even during our awkward honeymoon, where we merely slept beside one another, as cold as strangers.

Back in Wintermere, we rarely even saw each other, let alone came close enough to touch.

So how had I seen this?

For a second, the memory of our wedding day flashed before me. I remembered the kiss—our first and only kiss. It had been brief, formal, just as cold as the distance between us. I had thought nothing of it at the time, just a tradition, a gesture.

It wasn't the touch of hands or anything like that, but that kiss.

No, no, this is not the time to get lost in that memory! But now that I thought about it, those lips—so tender, so soft—were enough to make anyone's thoughts drift away.

My cheeks flushed with warmth as I tried to push that moment out of my mind.

Was this something Lucien was aware of? The weight of those lost souls that clung to him even now? Was that why he kept his distance, never allowing anyone too close?

Actually, when he was near, Lumina picked up on a slight, dark magic in him. Then, how on earth had he managed to get inside Veridonia?

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

The more I thought about it, the more unsettling it became. I realized that whatever this was, whatever it meant, I couldn't ignore it.

I had to find out the truth—even if it meant facing whatever darkness lay hidden within Lucien. The power of Umbra could corrupt anyone who wielded it, and that was deeply concerning.

When I returned to Wintermere, I had to find a way to figure it out myself. There was no way he had been okay carrying that burden all these years.

I had to help him—somehow.

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❄️ Lucien's POV ⚔️

In the heart of the forest on the outskirts of Wintermere, I tread alone. My knights, wounded and weary, had retreated hours ago, their injuries rendering them unable to continue. I was grateful I had arrived in time and that there were no casualties—or so I thought. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was left unfinished. The need to be certain drove me deeper into the trees, my boots crunching softly against the snow, leaving a trail of footprints that quickly filled with fresh flakes.

"There must still be survivors," I muttered to myself, scanning the surroundings as the cold wind clung to my gray coat. The sunlight was slipping lower in the sky, painting the mountains and snow-covered ground in a fading golden hue.

I needed to hurry before the sun set—before the darkness claimed the forest and whatever might still be hidden within it.

A faint cry pierced the silence, pulling me from my thoughts. It was a man's voice, filled with pain and desperation. I ran toward the sound, my heart pounding. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight that met my eyes.

The man was impaled on the trunk of a large, ancient tree, his body hanging limply from a branch, his shoulder grotesquely pierced. Blood oozed from the wound, seeping through the cracks in his armor, staining the snow below in a vivid crimson. And he wasn't alone—other lifeless bodies hung from the surrounding trees, a grotesque display of death.

A cold dread settled over me as I took in the scene. I thought I had saved everyone. Where had I gone wrong? How could I have missed this?

"Your Grace... help me," the man gasped, his voice weak, filled with a desperation that cut through the stillness of the forest.

"Hold on! I..."

But I was frozen in place, unable to move, unable to think. The horror before me was too familiar, too close to the nightmares that haunted me every time I closed my eyes. My breath caught in my throat, a lump forming as memories I had buried long ago surfaced.

It was like... no, it was exactly like that day.

I could see them now—the lifeless faces of my family.

My father, my mother, my older brother—the rightful heir of Wintermere's dukedom—his body hanging from a tree just like this, blood pooling at his feet. The forest around me blurred, merging with the past.

I could still hear my brother's faint voice from back then. "Luc... Lucien... Ru... Run..." The dying words echoed in my mind.

I do not deserve this title of Duke. They died because of my incompetence, sacrificing themselves to save me.

I should have been the one to die, not them. I deserve it. But why? Why did you all protect me, only to meet your deaths?

The screams of those who perished that day filled my ears, the memory of blood staining the pristine snow making my stomach churn, a bitter taste of failure on my tongue. I was there again—powerless, a helpless witness to the horror that had claimed my family.

I staggered back, gripping the hilt of my sword so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My hands trembled. The trees seemed to close in around me, their branches twisting into grotesque shapes, mocking me with the memory of my failure.

A dark magic swirled around me, seeping from the core of my being, an embodiment of the dread and despair that overwhelmed me. The coldness of my ice magic, usually a comforting presence, was now engulfed by the suffocating dark, which coiled around me like a living shadow, feeding on my fear and sorrow.

"Your Grace... please..." The man's voice brought me back to the present, but the grip of the past was too strong. I could barely breathe, my vision narrowing as the weight of the memories crushed me.

I have to save him. I have to... No, I would save him!

"Hang in there!"

My face remained unbothered, a mask of stern resolve as I confronted the horror before me. The memory of my brother's lifeless body haunted my vision, but I refused to let it paralyze me. I drew my sword with a sharp, deliberate motion, the steel glinting in the fading light.

The darkness that had coiled around me began to recede, its suffocating presence ebbing away as I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. The cold clarity of my ice magic returned, a sharp contrast to the encroaching shadows.

With a steady breath, I pushed the memories back into the recesses of my mind, where they belonged. The black tendrils of magic dissipated, melting into the air like morning mist under the sun, leaving only the icy resolve that had carried me through so many battles.

I took a step forward, my grip on the sword firm and my resolve unshaken. The past would not claim another life today.

Whatever this monster was, it had the same appearance as the one that had killed my family. I forced myself to focus, pushing down the rising tide of fear and doubt. How did I survive back then? That question gnawed at me, but I had no time to dwell on it. Not now.

The roots of the ancient tree began to writhe, like serpents coiling around their prey. Their tips sharpened into needle-like points, creeping closer, seeking to pierce my flesh as they had impaled the man before me. I watched them approach, unflinching.

With a swift motion, I sliced through the nearest roots, the blade severing them cleanly. But more came, relentless and eager to ensnare me.

Summoning the elemental magic I preferred to wield, I called upon the power that had always felt like an extension of myself. The air around me chilled as I invoked Glacio, the elemental force that had been my constant companion in battle. With a sharp exhale, multiple ice swords materialized around me, hovering in the air, their edges sharp and gleaming, as cold and unyielding as winter itself.

The roots hesitated, sensing the danger. With a commanding gesture, I sent the ice swords hurtling toward the man hanging from the branch, their edges slicing through the wood with ease. The air crackled with the sound of ice meeting wood. As the branch gave way, the man plummeted, and I lunged forward, catching him before he could hit the ground.

"Stand down," I commanded sternly as I set him on his feet.

I turned and stepped forward, cutting down every root in my path. The roots continued their assault, relentless. With one final effort, I slammed my left hand to the ground, summoning a tall wall of thick, spiky ice to shield us from further attacks. The barrier rose swiftly, a towering defense against the onslaught of the twisted tree.

I knew I couldn't stay here—not with this man slowing me down. Saving him was my priority, and with the sun now setting, the forest would soon be teeming with other monsters.

Hoisting the man onto my back, I took off at a sprint, heading back to Wintermere.

The soft thud of my footsteps echoed through the snow as the walls of Wintermere came into view.

Almost there. I could see my knights rushing toward me.

"Your Grace!" they called out in unison.

They quickly formed a protective circle around me, their eyes scanning the forest for any signs of further danger.

"Take him to the infirmary; he's losing too much blood. Now!" I commanded, and a few of them immediately took the injured man from me, hurrying him inside.

As the knights carried the injured man away, I felt the weight of the day's events settle over me. The darkness of the forest and the memories it had unearthed still lingered like a shadow in my mind.

The gates of Wintermere loomed before me, a fortress against the encroaching darkness.

I can't believe a single scene is enough to drag me back into my past. Is it because it mirrors what I remember?

I recalled standing there, frozen, paralyzed by the horror of what I had witnessed. What on earth did I survive back then? And what did I do?

After that night, I lost consciousness, drifting into a void where awareness couldn't reach me. But when I woke the next morning, I discovered the dark magic coursing through me. I've always avoided this power; it's a constant reminder of my deepest fears. I'm thankful the people never saw me as a monster—they chose not to condemn me.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the memories. There was no point in dwelling on it now. What mattered was that I needed to cast aside my doubts. I would protect Wintermere, just as my brother once tried to protect me. No matter the cost.

As I stepped inside, the warmth of the room stood in stark contrast to the cold resolve that had settled within me. My knights' faces were etched with concern, but I offered no words of reassurance. I had none to give.

All that mattered now was that somehow, despite my miscalculations, I still managed to save someone.