Cold and alone.
She was drifting in an endless void, with no beginning in sight, no end to be found. All around her was a hushed expanse of nothingness, save for a faint breeze that carried fragmented, distant whispers.
In that vast uncertainty, a single burst of light flashed, illuminating the darkness for a fleeting moment.
A man's voice, low and indistinct, echoed through the void.
A hand reached out from the emptiness, gently grasping hers.
Though she couldn't see his face clearly, the familiar warmth of his touch brought an inexplicable sense of peace.
"Rosalind… I've found you," he whispered, as if to soothe her.
Her fingers trembled.
A sharp pain stabbed through her chest, as though something was pulling her back from the abyss.
And then...the darkness shattered.
-----
Rosalind awoke with a start.
Her eyes fluttered open. Soft morning light streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the gossamer canopy draped around her bed. The grand chamber was silent, save for the faint rustle of the breeze.
That dream again.
She had dreamed it over and over, countless times. And yet, each time she woke, there was nothing clear—only a lingering emptiness and the vague silhouette of a man she couldn't quite place.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound of gentle knocking drew her from her thoughts.
"Your Highness, it's time to rise."
It was Elise, her handmaiden.
Rosalind took a deep breath, trying to shake the strange feeling lingering in her chest. She ran her fingers through her tousled hair before reaching for the gilded bell at her bedside and giving it a soft ring.
The door opened promptly, letting in the golden light of dawn and a bustle of maids, each preparing for her special day.
Indeed, today was the day. The wedding of Princess Rosalind Castillon of the Astravelle Empire and Duke Dorian Valemont of the North.
"Did you sleep well, Your Highness?" Elise asked with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with joy.
Rosalind returned a small smile and nodded.
"Everything was fine, except… I had that strange dream again, Elise."
"Maybe it's just nerves, Your Highness!" one of the younger maids chimed in cheerfully.
Elise cleared her throat, gently reminding the girl to hold her tongue, prompting a faint smile from Rosalind.
"Everything is ready, right?"
"Yes, everything has been perfectly prepared. All that's left now is the bride," Elise replied with barely concealed excitement.
Rosalind relaxed and allowed Elise and the other maids to help her prepare. Delicate hands brushed her hair, applied makeup, and dressed her with care. The room bustled with quiet energy.
Before long, the preparations were complete.
Rosalind gazed at herself in the mirror. Her golden-rose hair shimmered like the morning sun, and her amethyst eyes—symbols of the Castillon royal bloodline—gleamed with a quiet resolve. Her features, artfully enhanced, radiated elegance and grace.
She wore a gown of pristine white silk, embroidered with threads of gold. Lace sleeves hugged her arms like morning mist on soft petals.
"Are you still worried?" Elise asked gently.
Rosalind could only offer a wry smile.
"Still, I'm glad the wedding was moved to the capital. Who would've thought the Duke would change his mind at the last moment," Elise added, clearly relieved.
Rosalind recalled their first meeting, just a fortnight ago.
That cold, distant man—like the snow-capped mountains of the North… and just days later, he was personally arranging their wedding.
For a marriage born out of political gain, he had gone to surprising lengths.
Just then, a voice called from outside.
"Her Majesty has arrived."
The doors opened, and all inside bowed respectfully.
Queen Amara Castillon of Astravelle entered in full regalia. Her amethyst eyes—sharp and commanding—softened when they landed on her sister in bridal white.
She gestured for the others to carry on with their tasks.
"Oh, Rosi… look at you," Amara murmured, brushing a soft strand of hair from her sister's face. "If only Father and Mother could see you now."
Rosalind smiled faintly, concealing the complex emotions within her.
"You're feeling better, I hope?" Amara's eyes flickered with concern as she noted her sister's pale face.
It was only days ago that Rosalind had been gravely ill, nearly postponing the wedding altogether.
"I'm much better now, Your Majesty."
"I'm truly grateful the Duke agreed to hold the wedding in Lumisera," Amara said softly.
"That way, you got to see Eldoria's most beautiful bride, didn't you, Your Majesty?"
Her lighthearted words made Amara laugh.
She looked at her sister with a gaze full of emotion.
"Leave us," Amara ordered the attendants.
When they were alone, the queen's smile faded. She clenched her hands, then let out a soft sigh.
"I'm sorry…" Her voice was barely a whisper. "For pushing you into this marriage."
"Please don't say that, Your Majesty." Rosalind met her sister's gaze, eyes unwavering. "This was my decision, too."
She reached out and embraced her.
"I am also a daughter of Castillon," she said quietly. "I won't falter so easily."
Amara gently squeezed her shoulders before stepping back with a smile.
"Let me help you."
She lifted the bridal veil and delicately pinned it into Rosalind's hair.
Just then, another voice came from outside.
"Your Majesty, the auspicious hour has arrived."
The ceremony was about to begin.
The sisters walked together to the grand cathedral. Amara entered first, leaving only the bride behind to make her entrance.
A tall man approached, dressed in formal northern attire—deep brown accented by a silver-white fur cloak draped over his shoulders.
It was Rowan Eisenhart, Duke Dorian's closest confidant.
"Greetings, Sir Rowan," Rosalind said softly, bowing her head.
"Your Highness," he replied. "I've come to deliver a gift from the Duke."
He held a small ornate box.
A gift? From the cold and distant Duke?
Rowan opened the box, revealing a bouquet of blue roses.
"Blue roses… from Everfrost?"
"You know of them?" Rowan looked mildly surprised.
"These blue roses bloom only in Everfrost's sacred grounds. The Duke selected them himself, hoping they would please you."
"He's… more thoughtful than I expected. Thank you, Sir Rowan."
As she held the bouquet, her heart stirred with unexpected warmth.
Just then, the cathedral doors slowly opened, and the music began to play.
Sunlight filtered through stained glass high above, bathing the space in golden hues.
Rosalind raised her head. Her gaze landed on a tall figure at the end of the aisle, where blue flowers bloomed along the path—just like the ones in her hand.
He stood firm and composed, his silver-white hair shimmering like moonlit snow, and his mysterious blue eyes held the depth of the northern sky.
He looked at her and didn't look away—as if he had been waiting for her… for a very long time.
Rosalind steadied herself and stepped into the hall. Applause and well wishes followed her every step. Her hand gripped the bouquet tightly, nerves betraying her calm facade.
As she passed Amara, seated in the front row, she couldn't help but smile at her sister before walking toward the man who would soon become her husband.
Dorian stepped forward and extended his hand.
"At last, I've found you, Rosalind."
Her heart skipped a beat.
That voice…
Why did it sound so familiar?