The Golden Apple Prophecy

My grandmother was the last oracle on the continent. Before she passed, she left behind three bizarre apples.

Today was my twentieth birthday—exactly one year since her death. I sat alone in our empty, drafty old cabin and completed the first absolute command in her will.

Inside the shell of the first apple lay a single feather forged of pure gold. When I picked it up, I noticed a line of minuscule text engraved upon its surface.

—Climb the highest nearby peak. Pin this feather to your hat, and give it to the first person who reaches the summit.

I stared at those words three times without grasping their meaning. A blizzard had been raging outside for a solid week. Yet, without a second thought, I pinned that golden feather firmly to my black winter beanie.

At negative thirteen degrees Fahrenheit atop the sheer alpine cliffs, every breath scraped my lungs raw. This was exactly my third day holding out on the summit of Eagle’s Beak.

My rations had long since frozen into stones, and my feet had lost all sensation. I huddled in a crevice between two boulders, staring at the dead, white expanse before me. If no one showed up in the next few hours, I was going to become a human ice sculpture serving as a trail marker.

But I would never take off that hat, not even if I froze to death.

My grandmother had spent her entire life studying musty, ancient bloodline pacts and strange herbs. She had never been wrong about a single thing she said—even if it meant placing a deeply twisted gamble with my life.

Just as dawn broke on the fourth day, the wind finally died down.

"Damn this snow..."

Accompanied by a heavy, ragged gasp and a curse, a large hand violently gripped the edge of the plateau right in front of me.

I lifted my head stiffly.

A young man in a black tactical windbreaker hauled himself up, collapsing heavily onto the snow. When he raised his head, I met a strikingly handsome yet aggressively sharp face. A fresh, shallow scratch traced his deep-set brow bone.

Seeing me huddled at the edge of the cliff, he froze in clear bewilderment.

"Do you have a death wish?" he demanded, striding over. His voice was hoarse and laced with anger. "In weather that could freeze a ghost, this is a hell of a place to commit a lover's leap."

He reached out to grab my arm. His strength was terrifying. My legs were completely numb, and I pitched forward, slamming directly into his chest.

"I'm waiting for someone," I managed to say, using his forearm to steady myself. With trembling hands, I pulled the black winter hat from my head and pressed it firmly against his chest. "I came to deliver this. You are the first."

He didn't take it. His gaze swept over the gold feather. In that split second, a bizarre, barely detectable ripple flashed deep in his eyes, but it was quickly masked by sheer astonishment.

"I'm not some extreme tourist climbing for the thrill of it," he said, taking a half-step back, his eyes locked onto my face. "I am Elias, a student of Madam Cora. I came here to find her granddaughter and sort through her belongings."

Cora. My grandmother's name.

My heart violently skipped a beat. Nobody in the world knew I lived alone in the dilapidated cabin at the foot of this snowy mountain, except for her.

"I am her granddaughter." I offered the hat again, staring at him with stubborn resolve. "Since you came looking for me, this hat is yours."

Elias snatched the hat and shoved it casually into his windbreaker pocket. Then, in a grip that brooked no argument, he draped my arm over the back of his neck.

"Come down the mountain with me. Another half hour up here, and you'll lose both your legs."

The once lifeless old house suddenly possessed the warmth of the living, all because of a man's intrusion.

"Hand me that wooden slat over there," Elias said around two iron nails clenched between his teeth as he balanced on a stool.

I passed the cut slat up to him.

He swung the hammer expertly, sealing up the broken window that had leaked icy air for years. Once finished, he vaulted down, dusted off his hands, and downed the glass of hot water on the table in a single gulp.

It had been three days.

Ever since he brought me down from the snowy peak, this man had taken over the crumbling house with an eerie naturalness. He continuously chopped wood, fixed the roof, and even possessed the tremendous patience to categorize and reorganize my grandmother's chaotic mess of parchment scrolls and herb jars.

Cradling a mug of steaming tea, I sat on the sofa, watching his broad back.

"You could have easily stayed at the motel in town. Why stay in this shack and do all this manual labor for me?" I finally couldn't help but ask.

Elias turned around. "Because your grandmother taught me her most precious knowledge. And I promised her..." He crouched down in front of the sofa, bringing his eyes level with mine. "If I found you, I would take care of you in her stead."

He reached out and, with ultimate tenderness, tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"You've been guarding this place alone for far too long, Elara. You don't have to be so guarded around me."

My fingers tightened around the mug. His dark eyes were wholly focused, radiating a kind of acceptance that was perilously easy to sink into.

I lowered my head, not wanting him to see the sudden dampness in my eyes.

No wonder my grandmother had sent me to a peak where not even birds dared fly to wait for him. Perhaps, this was the final gift she had set aside for me.

Midnight.

The blizzard outside had ceased entirely. Carrying a cup of hot black tea sweetened with two sugar cubes, I walked toward the guest room at the end of the hallway.

The door wasn't shut tight; it was left slightly ajar, leaving a narrow slit.

Moonlight slanted through, falling perfectly onto the desk where my grandmother's belongings rested. Elias stood there with his back to the door. His head was bowed, staring fixedly at her portrait.

Just as I was about to push the door open, I heard the faintest sound—a sharp, subtle crack.

"Elias?" I gently pushed the door wide.

He turned around, and the moonlight happened to sweep across his face.

In that single second, I froze. The instant he turned, a scalp-prickling flash of pure, liquid gold ignited within his otherwise gentle, dark eyes.

My breath instantly caught in my throat.

But when I blinked rapidly and the warm glow from the hallway fully illuminated his face, those terrifying pupils had vanished without a trace.

Elias's gaze was clear and mild once more. He lowered his eyelashes with a touch of exhaustion.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" His voice was heavily raspy. "I just... seeing my teacher's photo in the middle of the night made me feel guilty. Guilty that I didn't find you sooner."

The faint thread of alarm I had felt—surely born from a trick of the light—was instantly and completely shattered by his vulnerable demeanor.

"Drink some tea," I offered, handing over the cup. "If she knows you're here from up above, she'd be comforted."

As he smiled and took the cup, his rough fingertips casually brushed the edge of my hand. To hide how wildly my heart was pounding, I turned my head to look at the desk.

My grandmother's framed portrait still sat squarely in its place.

I watched Elias's profile as he lowered his head to sip the tea, taking in his lonely yet affectionate posture bathed in the firelight, and I couldn't help the corners of my mouth curving upward.

On this blizzard-swept night, completely isolated from the rest of the world, I had finally found a haven—a warm embrace that could shield me from the wind and the snow.