2 – Shards of Ice

The ceremony hall emptied slowly, laughter and conversation spilling into the corridors like something Sophie could never quite reach.

She followed her grandfather toward the waiting carriage, footsteps measured, posture perfect. The silver ring rested on her finger, its weight constant, its presence impossible to forget.

As always, her face remained serene.

Inside, the walls of her mind shifted.

Memories, long locked away, stirred in the quiet that followed applause.

Her last memory of love came wrapped in sunlight.

A small cottage tucked deep in the woods. Soft light spilling through the windows. Her mother’s laughter drifting around her as they bent to gather wildflowers, hands brushing, voices warm. Arms that lifted her easily. A lullaby murmured low against her hair as she drifted toward sleep.

Safety had once been real.

Then the game.

Hide, Sophie. Quickly now. Just like we practiced.

She had thought it was play. Giggled as she squeezed into the narrow cupboard, knees tucked tight, breath shallow so she wouldn’t be found too soon. She remembered pressing her face against the wood, trying to keep quiet.

Then the snarls began.

A huge black wolf crashed through their home, the sound of splintering wood tearing through the walls. Its eyes had been wild, unthinking. The air filled with chaos, with shouting, with her mother’s scream ripping through the cottage.

Sophie’s heart had pounded so hard she was sure it would give her away.

She remembered the wolf’s breath near the cupboard. Too close. The scrape of claws against the floor. She closed her eyes as the sound drew nearer, curling in on herself, certain she would be found.

Shouts followed.

Steel rang out.

Bodies struck the floor.

When it was over, everything was silent.

Her father lay dead, the legendary Hunter who had stood between her and the beast. Her mother was gone too. Blood darkened the floor where Sophie had last heard her voice.

The black wolf had taken everything.

That night, hiding alone in the wreckage of her life, Sophie had sworn she would never again be helpless prey. She would become the greatest monster slayer who had ever lived. Strong enough that nothing could take from her again.

It did not take long to learn that monsters did not all wear fur.

Lucian had taken her into his vast mansion after the attack. The savior. The Grand Dragon of Hunters. Her grandfather.

He never held her while she cried. Never told her she was safe. He spoke of legacy and obligation, of duty and bloodlines. He demanded perfection and punished anything less.

A misstep in training earned pain. A mistake during lessons meant a night locked alone in darkness, her small body trembling until morning. He was careful. He never left marks where others could see.

Fear was his most reliable tool.

By the time Sophie understood this, it was already too late to escape it.

When she was thirteen, a local boy had asked her shyly if she would walk with him through the gardens. Just a walk. Just a question.

Lucian found out.

She spent a week in the dungeon beneath the mansion, half-starved, bruised, listening to his voice echo through the stone about weakness and disgrace. About how desire ruined bloodlines. About how affection led to failure.

From that moment on, Sophie never looked at another boy.

Every imperfect grade. Every hesitation. Every flicker of emotion was met with punishment. Slowly, deliberately, she built her armor. Silence. Distance. Control.

The Ice Queen.

It worked.

By fifteen, her classmates had stopped trying to befriend her. By sixteen, they had stopped trying to break her. She stood alone, untouchable.

But at night, when the mansion’s halls went still, Sophie prayed.

Not to be stronger.

Not even to be free.

She prayed for something she had only tasted once. Warmth. A family. A love not twisted into obligation or fear.

Sometimes she watched Lucian standing before the faded portrait of his late wife, Della. He would speak to it softly, words Sophie could never hear. His expression changed in those moments, something gentler breaking through the cruelty.

Perhaps, once, he had loved.

If so, whatever warmth he had possessed had died with her.

They stepped out of the Academy and into the evening air. The sounds of celebration faded behind them. The carriage waited at the edge of the courtyard, dark and imposing.

Lucian’s hand snapped out, fingers closing hard around Sophie’s arm.

She did not react.

“You will be on your best behavior tonight,” he murmured, voice sharp and low. “Jax Kilsome is not to distract you. You will not embarrass me.”

Sophie kept her chin lifted, gaze forward. “Yes, Grandfather.”

“You will speak when spoken to. You will not wander. You will not draw attention.”

“Yes, Grandfather.”

“You belong at my side.”

“Yes.”

The Ice Queen answered.

The little girl who had once known sunlight remained buried far beneath the surface.

The carriage door opened.

Sophie stepped forward, skirts gathered neatly in her hands.

Before she could climb inside, a presence shifted behind her.

“Sophie.”

The voice was familiar. Too familiar.

Her pulse jumped before she could stop it.

She turned.

Jax Kilsome stood a short distance away, the courtyard lights catching in his eyes. He was no longer surrounded by noise or admiration. Here, in the quiet, his attention felt sharper. Intent.

Lucian’s grip tightened.

“Sophie,” he said too softly, not a whisper, a warning. “You forget your place.”

Jax smiled.

It was slow. Knowing. Dangerous.

“I don’t think she has,” he replied, eyes never leaving Sophie. “I think she’s just starting to realize it.”

Lucian’s fingers dug into her arm, pinching her in a silent command.

“I will come for you tonight. Be ready by six.”

Sophie’s breath caught.

And for the first time in her life, standing between command and choice, she did not know which way she would step.