Her lips parting in a slow smile that did not reach her eyes. The air around her shimmered again, subtly warping as if the very fabric of reality bent to her presence.
"I said," she repeated, stepping forward so that the wind lifted her petal-like skirts, "are you here to see if Frost is truly dead?"
The name hit harder than her earlier barbs, dragging the breath from East's lungs in a silent recoil. The others might have assumed Frost perished when his staff shattered.
The explosion of ice and ancient mana had consumed the northern pole entirely, rendering the land uninhabitable and veiled in an unnatural, endless blizzard. But Periwinkle's words stirred something far worse than grief—doubt.
Periwinkle noticed the shift. Her smile softened, almost tender. "I saw him, you know. Just once. After the implosion."
East's eyes snapped to hers, unreadable. "Liar."
