The North's Shadow

A Dark Legacy

As wind howled against the castle windows, I settled in under thick layers of blankets, letting sleep draw me into a vivid memory.

I was back home, standing outside my grandma's cottage as warm, golden light spilled through her windows, casting a glow over the snow-covered ground. The familiar scent of pine and woodsmoke filled the air, grounding me as I walked through a thick layer of snow toward the frozen lake behind the cottage.

The lake lay perfectly still, its surface a mirror reflecting the gray winter sky. But then I saw it: a flash of red, thrashing in the ice. A fox had broken through, struggling to keep its head above the freezing water.

Without thinking, I stepped onto the ice, each footstep leaving a frost-covered trail behind me. As I neared the fox, a strange, unfamiliar chill bloomed in my chest, sharper and colder than the winter air. "I've got you," I whispered, reaching out.

"Reese!" Grandma's voice cut through the spell. I glanced back to see her standing at the lake's edge, her face pale with worry.

In a blur, she was beside me, pulling me back to safety, murmuring words I couldn't quite make out. Wrapped in a blanket by the fire later, I finally worked up the courage to ask, "Nana, why did the ice change?"

Her face darkened for a moment before she forced a smile. "Oh, snow can be fickle, Reese," she said softly. "Sometimes, it plays tricks on us." But even as a kid, I knew there was something she wasn't telling me.

...

My eyes fluttered open as I lay beneath the thick furs in the chilly stone bedchamber, blinking at the dim morning light filtering through the window. I miss you, Nana, I thought, a pang of longing tightening in my chest. The dream felt so real— I could still feel the icy prickling in my fingertips. Why was I dreaming about that now? Just homesickness?

A soft knock broke through my thoughts.

"Miss Mackey," a man's voice called, crisp and formal. "Breakfast is ready, and the Duke expects your presence. You'll find a gown in the closet."

A gown? I swung my legs out from under the furs, shivering as my bare feet hit the freezing stone floor. A gown wasn't exactly my idea of a breakfast outfit. But when I peeked in the closet, my stomach dropped. These look straight out of a period drama. Deep colors, heavy fabric, and layers upon layers—nothing even remotely close to jeans, flannel, or a hoodie.

I groaned as I reluctantly pulled out one of the gowns and wriggled into it, doing my best to figure out where all the pieces went. "Great," I muttered, tugging at a sleeve, "I'm about to be a dress-wearing, castle-dwelling... whatever I am now." I gave the gown a final tug, hoping everything was more or less in the right place, and padded to the door.

As I opened it, I nearly jumped at the sight of a tall, older man standing outside, perfectly poised, as if he'd been waiting there all morning. He was dressed impeccably in a pristine coat, with polished shoes and an expectant gaze.

"Who... are you?" I asked, feeling like I'd missed some major plot point here.

"I am Gregory, the butler," he said, as if it were obvious. "Shall I escort you to the dining hall?"

A butler? I stifled a laugh. If Skye could see me now. "Yeah, sure, Sir Gregory." A butler. A Duke. A castle. Okay, then.

I followed Gregory down the cold, stone hallways, the grandeur of the place only adding to my unease. Suddenly, a more pressing thought hit me. "Hey, Gregory," I asked, hurrying to keep up with his brisk stride, "you guys have coffee around here? Or is that... not a thing?"