Snow-Laden Branches

Chapter 1

Hooves hitting against the frosted hard ground...

The palace flags on fire, sitting ablaze in the ominous background...

Screams of terror abruptly cut off...

The dead bodies of soldiers piling up on the blood-soaked earth...

"Young Master!"

Whose voice was that?

"Oh, who will tell His Highness?!"

His Highness...?

"Who will tell him that his betrothed is dead!"

Whistling snowstorms inducing a high-pitched ringing in his ears...

Darkness dots his vision as if to mask the freezing pain...

Then, a light.

He reached out and...

"Isa!"

He frowned. That wasn't his name, was it?

"Isa!"

He had thought his name was—

"Isadel! Get up! You have school, you know!"

He finally opened his eyes to hear the yell of his mother. Isa shot up, looking around at his surroundings.

Isa was sitting on his bed, the lamp sitting on his wooden nightstand the only source of light in the small bedroom. His closet door was open, with clothes spilling messily over the hardwood flooring. His window was sealed shut, the blackout curtain blocking out the afterglow of the setting moon.

As Isa leaned over to turn off the lamp, the light stinging his eyes, he immediately felt the raging headache.

He groaned before laying back down. The pounding in his head was making him feel quite dizzy. His lips curved downward before he cast a hazy gaze toward his mother, who had now appeared at his bedroom door.

The woman was now frowning, observing her son. He'd gone pale, with a sickly green tint to his complexion, and his eyes lost and worn with exhaustion. She glided over to his bedside and laid a gentle hand against his forehead. She hissed from the burning heat and pulled her hand back.

"Gosh, Isa, you're burning up... I'll call you in sick today, alright? Get some rest." His mother's voice was soft and cooling against his hell-hot headache. Isa gave the woman a small smile.

"Thank you, Mom..."

"I'll go up to the pharmacy before work for some antibiotics. But I want to wait until your fever has gone down, or else you won't fight off this infection of yours, you know."

Esther Caesar was a doctor who worked at the local clinic. If anyone knew more about how fevers worked, it was her. She adorned blonde waves which rested below her jawline, and tender hazel eyes that were big with virgin purity.

Isa groaned, turning onto his side and whimpering quietly as the pain of his headache shifted. He loved his mother dearly, and couldn't have asked for a better person to have adopted him so long ago. At the same time, he hated the sticky feeling that came with running a fever. He always felt it was uncomfortable and sore in a way. But, even with how much he could have begged, he knew that his mother would adamantly refuse.

"I'll be right back, dove, try to get some rest."

With that, his mother closed the bedroom door, eliminating the light from the hallway and leaving him in the cool darkness.