Few Hours had slipped by, and the snowy world outside was already dimming, the evening glow stretching long shadows across the frost tiled streets. Inside the hall, in one of the many rooms, Emma sat quietly upon the bed, her small frame settled in stillness. Her legs were crossed neatly in a meditative pose, her hands resting gently atop her knees, and her silver-white hair fell softly down her back, catching the faint light of the room.

  Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady, her chest rising and falling in a calm rhythm. Deep within, she could feel it, an inward pull, a warmth gathering in her midsection. It sank into her center like a weightless flame, spreading tiny tingles through her body. The sensation prickled, alive, almost electric.

  She was strengthening her Ki Core, as Luna had taught her. Drawing everything inward, her energy, her force, her very existence... letting it settle deep within her center before guiding it outward again.

  Not in chaotic bursts, but in measured streams, flowing through the unseen pathways of her body. A cycle. A rhythm.

  Redistributing.... Recirculating... Refining.

  Her thoughts aligned with her movements, her will pressing the energy forward, letting it seep into every corner of her being. Slowly, steadily, she kept the rhythm going, her body wrapped in a quiet, unshaken stillness..

  But just then..

  Knock...! Knock! Knock!

  A gentle knock at her door, measured and polite, followed by a calm voice muffled slightly through the door.

  “Little Miss, forgive the disturbance… but the person I spoke of is already here. He is waiting downstairs.”

  Emma’s lashes trembled before she opened her eyes. A faint glow lingered in them for a moment, a deep white light, soft but striking, before it faded back into her usual unique white gaze. She exhaled slowly, releasing the cycle as she returned to her normal state.

  The attendant, who waited outside, shifted slightly as though preparing to say more before leaving her to ready herself. But before he could, the door opened smoothly.

  Emma stood there with a bright smile lighting her face. “Good evening, Mister.”

  The young man straightened at once, his neatly pressed white uniform catching the faint glow of the corridor lamps. He returned her smile with a courteous bow of his head. “Good evening, Little Miss. I see you are well. And if I may say… with this dress of yours, you look otherworldly splendid.”

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  Emma tilted her head slightly, her smile softening as she replied, “Thank you very much. And… forgive me for how I reacted earlier this morning. I was a little stressed out.” She bowed her head gently in apology, her silver-white hair slipping forward like strands of light.

  The attendant’s eyes widened a fraction before he shook his head firmly. “No, please lift your head, Little Miss. There was no offense at all. I could see the stress upon your face, it was my mistake for coming too early. If anyone should apologize, it is me.” His words carried sincerity, his posture lowering respectfully as he offered his own apology.

  Emma lifted her head again, her expression calm, the faintest trace of warmth in her smile. The attendant straightened after a moment and, with a small, precise gesture of his hand, motioned for her to follow as he saw she was already ready

  So the two began walking, until at last they reached the bottom of the stairs. The main hall opened before them, its interior greeting them with warmth and faint light. Frost crystals clung in delicate patterns along the edges of the walls, their shimmer sharp and cold, yet the glow of the carefully placed lamps softened the chill. It was a balance, between frost and flame, between stillness and life.

  The air carried the faint scent of fresh wood, polished and clean, grounding the place in its quiet, lived-in warmth.

  While Emma walked along with the attendant, another presence slowly approached them from the far end of the corridor.

  It was the figure of a man. His hair was pale ash, smooth and faintly gleaming in the lamplight. His jaw was square, his features carrying the sharp elegance of youth, though his bearing was one that carried authority. He wore a crisp white long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into white trousers, the simplicity of his attire only amplifying his noble air.

  The attendant stopped at once, lowering his head in a polite bow.

  “Good evening, Lord High Constable, Lord James.”

  The man gave a small smile, his voice calm but carrying weight. “Good evening.” His eyes then shifted, resting on Emma.

  Emma, caught under his gaze, dipped her head slightly. “Good evening, sir.” Her tone was polite, her face calm, but inwardly she hesitated. Lord High Constable? She thought quietly to herself. Noble titles are always so confusing… better to stay with ‘Sir’ than get it wrong.

  Her thoughts trailed off as Lord James’s voice pulled her back. “Good evening, young lady,” he said warmly, his expression softening into a courteous smile. “You must be the one our queen is most delighted to meet.”

  Emma returned his gaze, her reply steady though her tone modest. “It may be so.”

  The corners of Lord James’s lips curved faintly. “Very well then. Shall we get going?” With a polite gesture of his hand, he motioned for Emma to follow.

  She gave a slight nod and stepped forward beside him as they both left the hall. Outside, frost-blue tiles spread underfoot, gleaming faintly as though thin ice had been laid within the stone. Their footsteps echoed with a quiet crunch as they walked, the silence between them calm and unhurried under the snowy evening breeze.

  Lord James’s eyes drifted briefly toward Emma as they moved. She wore only her white dress, no coat or cloak draped over her shoulders. The fabric shifted softly with her steps, light against the pale glow of the chill evening. For a moment, his gaze lingered before he spoke with gentle curiosity.

  “It seems you have already adapted to our weather, young lady.”

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