Chapter 3

Just as Callum turned to leave, a pair of soft arms wrapped fiercely around his waist from behind.

Ignis pressed her cheek against his back, trembling with practiced vulnerability.

"Don't go, Callum... That draft of cold air... it's making my belly cramp. It's so cold."

Catching Callum's momentary hesitation, Ignis softened her voice. "Sister knows exactly how to manipulate Winter magic. She must be forcing the frost up here to warn me... It's fine if I suffer a little, but... your heir is still so fragile."

The word "heir," paired with Ignis's fearful tears, ruthlessly snuffed out the singular second of worry in Callum's eyes.

He turned back around, suppressing his pure Sunfire magic to its gentlest warmth, and slowly channeled it into Ignis's body to shield her from the chill.

He glanced over his shoulder, throwing a freezing command at the guards. "Tell the men watching her to keep their eyes open. No one is to let her out!"

Callum carefully shielded Ignis in his arms. Pressing against his ear, she used her sickly-sweet voice to repeatedly whisper about "our child."

Drowning in that tenderness, he completely forgot about his mate trapped at the bottom of the ice well.

Callum didn't know the truth—when a Winter Fae truly dies, they leave no corpse behind.

Once the ice magic is entirely drained, my physical body would dissolve like snow dropped in boiling water. It would disintegrate inch by inch, scattering into the finest frost dust and magic motes.

This body, which had once held me, would eventually surrender its last shreds of dignity and essence back to the ice and snow.

It wasn't until the third day that Ignis casually probed, "I wonder how Sister is doing now... The last time she threw a temper tantrum, she didn't show her face for three whole days and nights."

That seemingly careless remark ripped open an ugly, painful memory.

The relaxed look on Callum's face instantly darkened, heavy irritation flashing in his eyes.

That so-called "three days and nights" was the very starting point of me being utterly broken by Ignis.

Ignis had just gained his favor back then. In front of dozens of Summer Court nobles, she had covered her nose and mouth, gagging with absolute disgust. "This stench of Winter makes me sick."

I hadn't held back and slapped her across the face in front of everyone.

But when Ignis collapsed in tears, the man who had sworn to protect me for a lifetime backhanded me fiercely across the face.

"You've trampled on the dignity of the Summer Court, Isolde!"

I used to believe that a soul-bound Mate Bond meant eternal favoritism. It wasn't until that day I finally understood: in the face of an entirely unequal love, the Bond was nothing but a chain that funneled pain in only one direction.

I hid in the back palace's frost pool for three days and three nights. I thought he would at least come looking for me.

But what I waited for wasn't him bowing his head in apology. It was him holding Ignis's hand, brazenly parading his affection for her for all to see.

The memory ignited Callum's fury like wildfire. He absolutely refused to let anyone challenge him with this disappearing act a second time.

"I'm going to see if she actually knows she's wrong."

He scoffed coldly, ruthlessly warping the faint anxiety that should have spurred him to check on my safety into the righteous indignation of a judge going to an execution.

Radiating the oppressive weight of his Sunfire, Callum strode purposefully and halted at the edge of the ice well.

The frost-crystal cage sat silently at the very bottom.

I lay flat inside it, entirely drained of color, my limbs hanging limp. Only my hair and the shredded remnants of my dress drifted slowly in the water, creating the eerie illusion that I was still faintly breathing.

"Did she admit her fault? Has she opened her mouth to beg me to let her out?" Callum stared dead into the bottom of the well, his voice as cold and hard as iron.

I watched his arrogant, life-or-death posture and felt it was utterly laughable.

How was I supposed to repent? In the very moment you sank me into this ice well, didn't I shred my own dignity and beg you, for the sake of the child in my womb?

My only real crime was simply failing to satisfy your and your mistress's vanity.

The most tragic mistake I ever made in this life was believing in the tears and oaths of a Summer Court tyrant.

The guard spoke, his voice trembling. "Ever since the High Lady sank to the bottom... she hasn't opened her eyes once. Her hands and feet haven't even twitched!"

Callum's stance finally faltered by an inch, a barely detectable trace of panic crawling into his pupils.

But the corner of his eye caught a strand of my hair rising with the undercurrent. Shoving the panic back down, he instantly convinced himself once again that this was just a newly elevated guilt trip.

"Keep faking." Callum's mouth twisted, his eyes growing absolutely freezing. "Since she loves being in this well so much, let her stay down there for the rest of her life. Never let her up!"

It was as if something snapped entirely. It was my last thread of resentment, and the cruelest verdict before the truth was laid bare: Callum, I will never come up again. You severed my lifeline with your own hands.

He didn't even bother to give it a second look, turning away in a blind fury.

I stared calmly at my own corpse.

Starting from the frosted fingertips to the pale jawline, the flesh dissolved without warning, turning into fine, sparkling silver frost dust.

A bloodcurdling scream from the guard abruptly tore through the air.

"High Lord—the High Lady... she disappeared!"