The Secret Garden of Ice.

Luciana wrapped herself in as many layers as she could, shielding her body from the bitter wind and gnawing frost. The cold was relentless, seeping through fabric and flesh alike, but she refused to remain confined within the fortress's grey stone walls any longer. She had spent too many days imprisoned in dimly lit corridors, where the sun barely graced the narrow windows before vanishing beyond the endless storm clouds.

Mina, ever the dutiful attendant, had hesitated when Luciana expressed her desire to step outside, but she relented in the end. Before leaving, she had brought Luciana a simple meal—hard-boiled eggs and freshly baked bread. It was warm but lacked flavor, devoid of the spices and seasonings she once took for granted. Even the bread, a rare addition to the fortress's usual fare, had only become available after her arrival.

The food situation in Stygian Fortress was stark. Wild barley was the primary grain, with foxtail millet appearing only sporadically among trade goods brought by merchants from the human realm. Though she was grateful that the supplies were of decent quality, she remained cautious, personally inspecting the kitchens and storage houses when she could.

Meat was abundant, taken from creatures she did not recognize, their blood leaving a pungent scent that turned her stomach. Vegetables were scarce—frozen leeks, wild berries, and mushrooms made up the lesser portion of the stores. The bulk of their staples came from the borderlands, where potatoes and onions were common trade items. Luxuries such as fruit and sugar were nearly nonexistent. The only fresh produce they had was yak milk, sourced from farms directly overseen by the fortress's head chef.

Luciana pulled her thick fur cloak tighter around her shoulders as she stepped into the open. Her gaze instinctively sought Nemesis, the young toddler wrapped securely in warm furs. She had personally ensured that new clothes were ordered for him, garments better suited to the harsh winters that defined this desolate land. Mina had helped choose the designs—simple yet practical, nothing that would draw unnecessary attention.

"He looks good in anything," Luciana murmured with a small smile.

Mina grinned. "Just like the master. He, too, looks good in anything."

Luciana stiffened. "G-good body?" she repeated, her voice flustered.

Mina nodded matter-of-factly. "Yes, milady. My brother says so. The master has a habit of walking around half-dressed in the fortress—especially during training, since he always ends up tearing his clothes. It's a hassle for us servants to mend them."

Heat crept into Luciana's cheeks as unbidden memories surfaced. She recalled Erebus striding through the fortress halls, his loosely tied dressing gown revealing the sculpted lines of his torso. She had seen the scar running across his shoulder blade, a pale contrast against the bronzed skin. And that wicked smile of his—one that had sent a tremor down her spine.

Shaking her head, she forced the thoughts away and raised a hand to dismiss them. The guards at the main entrance straightened as she approached, their expressions impassive. The great iron gates groaned as they slowly swung open.

Mina draped a thick bear fur cloak over her shoulders before Luciana stepped forward, offering the guards a small nod in acknowledgment. She was careful in her interactions—polite, but distant. There were few in this place she could trust.

She was a foreigner, an Amanécerian in a land of demons. A hostage in every sense of the word.

The weight of that reality settled on her shoulders as she walked through the frost-laden courtyard. The men who greeted her did so only out of respect for her position as Erebus's wife. Among them was Ahriman, one of the few she could tolerate.

Ahriman had been abandoned as a child, an illegitimate son of some noble he never knew. His appearance was striking—tall and broad-shouldered, his hair an ashen grey, his eyes faded and icy. His cold exterior often led others to mistake him for a cruel man, but in truth, he was more carefree than most. He had once harbored feelings for Mina, but after her rejection, he had taken on the role of her older brother instead.

"Milady, mind your step," Ahriman cautioned as she carried Nemesis in her arms.

"Thank you, Ser," she replied, adjusting her grip on the child.

Mina reached out to take the boy, but Nemesis clung stubbornly to Luciana, refusing to let go. The snow had been cleared from the paths, allowing safe passage for those coming and going from the fortress. Luciana took in her surroundings—the towering stone walls, the walkways connecting the buildings, the bridges spanning across the fortress towers. Chimneys billowed thick smoke into the sky, a sign of life in this otherwise desolate place.

Their walk was a long one, leading them toward the farthest end of the fortress where Mina tended her personal garden. The once-vibrant yard was now blanketed in white, the trees standing bare with their trunks darkened by frost. Some were deep brown, others pale grey or silver. They were a rare sight in this harsh land, each one a testament to resilience.

Luciana hesitated before speaking. "Ser Ahriman, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, milady. Ask anything."

She glanced at him. "I've noticed that many of the servants prefer to work at night. But a few seem to function just fine during the day. Why is that?"

"You mean the nocturns," he said.

Luciana furrowed her brow. "I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in their nature."

"It's understandable," he replied. "Most demons shun the sun. The nocturns, in particular, are stronger in darkness. However, the entire region of Wahrheit is cloaked beneath a magical veil—one that dims the daylight, allowing even the nocturns to endure it. But if I were asked to step into the human realm, under Amanécer's full sun, I'd rather die than suffer through it." He paused, then quickly added, "Ah—I apologize, milady. I spoke too freely."

Mina shot him a sharp glare, but Luciana merely shook her head with a wan smile.

"It must be difficult, accepting an outsider into your land," she said quietly. "I understand."

Ahriman said nothing, but the flicker of guilt in his gaze did not go unnoticed.

As they continued forward, young recruits and patrolling guards greeted her with polite nods before moving on. Eventually, the buildings thinned out, giving way to an uninhabited stretch of land.

"We're near the servants' quarters, milady," Mina informed her.

"The soldiers' barracks are farther in the opposite direction," Ahriman added. "And beyond that, there's a separate dwelling for servants who have chosen to settle here permanently. Many of them have served the master's household for generations."

"Generations?" Luciana repeated.

Ahriman nodded. "Loyalty runs deep among demons. Many lower-class families pledge themselves to a single master and pass that duty down to their descendants. Demons are highly attuned to their environments—once they settle, they rarely leave."

Luciana's grip on Nemesis tightened. If I were to escape… would he chase me to the ends of the earth? He took me from a land where God's light never fades.

She did not voice the thought.

"Milady! Please, close your eyes," Mina suddenly pleaded.

Luciana blinked in confusion. "What—?"

A pair of large wooden gates loomed before them, their surface aged and frozen, the rusted hinges resembling outstretched bat wings.

"Allow me to open the gates," Ahriman offered.

With some reluctance, Luciana closed her eyes. She felt Mina's guiding hand on her arm as the gates creaked open, a sound that echoed through the cold air.

"Welcome to my secret garden of ice, milady," Mina said softly.

Luciana slowly opened her eyes.

And for the first time in a long while, she forgot the bitter cold.