Codex of Frost and Whispers

An intense, brittle cold descended over the outer corridors of the Ember Court, frosting the delicate stained glass of the high galleries and turning the breath of passing attendants to white plumes. Servants murmured near the grand fireplaces about the shifting political tides, whispering that Lady Vespera's recent inquiries had left the entire staff walking on thin ice. Far from the grand halls, the chill seeped even into the stone joints of the deep archives where Lord Kaelen and Lyra Vane remained confined, reminding everyone within the court's ancient walls that winter's grip was absolute.

Down in the steaming, labyrinthine underbelly of the citadel, Bronwen, a sharp-eyed mortal scullery worker tasked with stoking the basement boilers, kept her ears open as she hauled heavy scuttles of coal. She overheard two of Lady Vespera's favored courtiers murmuring over spiced wine about a dawn sweep of the restricted vaults. Realizing the immediate danger facing anyone lurking in the lower levels, the young woman decided to risk her position by slipping a hurried warning toward the archive stairwell, her boots clicking softly against the frozen stone as the court's net tightened inexorably around them.