Tower of Thorns Tower of Fangs Volume 4 chapter 8

 

Volume IV  The White King

ARC II  THE CASTLE OF ICE

Chapter 8  The Frozen Court

The Palace of Everfrost was silent. Not empty. Never empty. Silent. The difference mattered. Silence is a virtue in Everfrost, Silence is gold. Toivo felt it immediately. The moment he crossed the crystal gates, he sensed countless eyes watching from behind frozen windows and silver pillars. The palace was alive. Ancient. Patient. Waiting. The Frost Death Reapers guided the travelers deeper into the palace. The elite immortal soldiers who serve the White King. They look like beautiful, human-like Nordic warriors, but something about them feels unnatural and terrifying. Even the snow spirits are afraid of them. They wear white, frost-covered armor with glowing runes and carry powerful weapons. Moon walked quietly at the front. His long black hair flowed behind him like liquid darkness against the endless white of Everfrost. The moon fairies followed. Hundreds of tiny lights drifting around him. Silver stars moving through a world of ice. Toivo stayed close. Closer than usual. He didn't entirely understand why. Perhaps because Moon seemed distant again. Or perhaps because everything here felt strangely connected to him. Every hallway. Every statue. Every frozen garden. Every servant they passed. The entire palace seemed built around Moon's memory. That realization unsettled him. The corridors stretched endlessly. Massive pillars of crystal ice rose toward vaulted ceilings painted with silver constellations. Frozen chandeliers hung overhead. Each one formed from thousands of enchanted icicles. Moonlight shimmered inside them despite the daytime sky outside. Ancient murals covered the walls. Scenes of forgotten ages. Battles. Kingdoms. Dragons. Celestial beings. The blonde young mans blue eyes wondered everywhere,  Toivo noticed something disturbing. Moon appeared repeatedly. Again. And again. And again. Sometimes standing beside kings. Sometimes healing wounded warriors. Sometimes beneath moonlit forests. Always beautiful. Always distant. Always accompanied by fairies. Yet the White King appeared as well. A younger version.  silver-blond hair. Blue eyes. Standing beside Moon. Laughing beside him. Traveling beside him. Fighting beside him. The murals told a story. A story no one had explained. Gret noticed too.

The fair haired muscular giant Northman scratched his beard.

"Well."

The red haired butler in regal black Kev glanced toward him. 

"Well what?"

Gret pointed upward.

"I think somebody had a favorite person."

Kev immediately burst out laughing.

Moon continued walking. Pretending not to hear. The tips of his ears turned slightly pink. Toivo somehow noticed. That only made him feel worse. Eventually they reached enormous silver doors. Nearly fifty feet tall. Covered in frost-covered runes. The Frost Death Reapers stopped. She was beautiful in a haunting way, skin deathly pale as well as her hair. The female spear wielder stepped forward. For the first time since meeting her she spoke.

"His Majesty's court awaits."

Her voice was calm. Clear. Beautiful. Ancient. The doors slowly opened. The Court of Everfrost revealed itself. Toivo forgot how to breathe. The chamber was enormous. Larger than many castles. A cathedral of crystal and ice. Frozen pillars stretched into darkness above. Silver auroras drifted across the ceiling like living paintings. Thousands of crystal lanterns floated through the air. Snowflakes drifted endlessly indoors. Never melting. Never touching the ground. And gathered within the chamber stood the White King's court. The immortals of Everfrost. Every eye turned toward Moon. Instantly. Simultaneously. Silence descended. The entire court bowed. Not to the White King. Not to royalty. To Moon. Toivo froze. So did Gret. Even Kev looked surprised. Moon looked mildly horrified. The celestial god clearly hadn't expected this. Hundreds of nobles filled the chamber. Nordic Vampires. Ancient immortals. Beautiful beyond mortal standards. Men and women alike possessed pale skin resembling polished marble. Silver eyes. Blue eyes. White hair. Golden hair. Elegant features. They wore magnificent garments. White furs. Silver armor. Flowing cloaks. Crystal jewelry. Crowns of ice and starlight. Each appeared powerful. Each appeared dangerous. Yet all lowered their heads before Moon. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The silence stretched. Then gorgeous a woman stepped forward. Tall. Elegant. Terrifyingly beautiful. Her long silver hair flowed to her waist. A crown of crystal roses rested upon her head. Blue eyes shimmered like frozen lakes. She wore a magnificent gown woven from white silk and enchanted frost. The air itself seemed colder around her.

The woman bowed deeply.

"Lord Moon."

Her voice echoed throughout the hall. The title surprised Toivo. Moon blinked. The woman smiled softly. A genuine smile. One filled with relief.

"Welcome home."

The silence that followed hurt. Toivo felt it. Moon felt it. Everyone felt it. Because Moon didn't answer. The celestial god simply lowered his eyes. The woman immediately looked regretful.

"I apologize."

Moon shook his head gently.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

His voice remained kind. As always.

The woman stepped aside. Others approached. One by one. The Court of Everfrost introduced themselves. Lord Arcturus. Commander of the Northern Reapers. Handsome and Tall. Broad-shouldered. White armor covered in frost runes. A giant sword rested across his back. Lady Elara. Mistress of the Crystal Gardens. Golden hair. Silver eyes. White robes covered in living frost flowers. Lord Severin. Master of the Winter Archives. Ancient even by immortal standards. His long white beard nearly reached his waist. Dozens more followed. Each powerful. Each influential. Each treating Moon with remarkable reverence. Not worship. Something more personal. Respect. Affection. Memory. Toivo noticed a pattern. Every introduction included a story. A memory. A moment involving Moon.

"You saved my grandfather during the Frost War."

"You healed my mother."

"You taught my clan."

"You protected our forests."

"You brought peace to our valley."

Again. And again. And again. Toivo listened quietly. The stories never ended. Each revealed another piece of a Moon he had never known. A Moon who traveled the world. A Moon who intervened. A Moon who laughed. A Moon who lived. Not the isolated god of the Tower of Fangs. Something older. Something brighter. The realization filled Toivo with strange jealousy. These people knew parts of Moon he never would. Then the chamber doors opened once more. Everyone turned. The Frost Death Reapers entered. Not as guards. As nobles. The revelation surprised Toivo. The spearwoman removed her helmet. Silver hair spilled down her back. Her beauty rivaled the court itself. The giant halberd wielder removed his own. A scarred but handsome face appeared beneath. Ancient eyes. Ancient grief. The bowman followed. Then the fourth Reaper. A beautiful woman carrying twin frost blades. The court immediately bowed.

Toivo stared.

"Who are they?"

Kev answered quietly.

"The King's Four."

The cat sounded unusually serious.

"The strongest beings in Everfrost besides him."

The four Reapers approached Moon. Then knelt. All at once. The entire chamber became silent.

The spearwoman lowered her head.

"We have fulfilled our duty."

Moon looked uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable.

"You really don't need to kneel."

None of them moved.

The giant Reaper smiled faintly.

"Forgive us."

His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

"We've waited a very long time."

Something flickered across Moon's face. Pain. The same pain Toivo kept seeing. The same pain haunting every corridor of this palace. The same pain hiding within every mural. Every memory. Every story. Moon gently looked away. The hall fell silent again. Because everyone suddenly realized something. The person missing. The one person not present. The ruler of Everfrost. The White King. Toivo noticed it immediately. The court noticed. Moon noticed. Yet no one mentioned him. Not a single person. As though speaking his name might shatter something fragile. Then finally the silver-haired lady who first welcomed them stepped forward.

Her expression softened.

"He is waiting."

Moon closed his eyes briefly. The fairies around him dimmed. Toivo felt his chest tighten. The entire court lowered their gaze. Even the immortals seemed nervous. The woman bowed once more. Then quietly spoke the words everyone feared.

"His Majesty requests a private audience."

Silence. Absolute silence.

Moon slowly opened his eyes. Jet black. Ancient. Unreadable. Then he nodded.

"Very well."

Across the chamber the great crystal doors leading deeper into the palace slowly opened. Beyond them waited the highest tower. The White King's tower. And somewhere above the ruler of Everfrost waited alone. For the first time in centuries.

Tower of Thorns Tower of Fangs Volume 4 chapter 9

 

Volume IV  The White King

ARC II  THE CASTLE OF ICE

Chapter 9  The King Who Waited

True love waits. Love is patient, love is kind, and it keeps no record of wrongs. It does not demand, nor does it rush what is meant to unfold in its own time. Through distance, hardship, and uncertainty, it endures. Where others count failures and mistakes, love chooses forgiveness. Where bitterness seeks a home, love offers grace. True love does not measure worth by perfection, but by devotion, understanding, and the willingness to remain when it would be easier to walk away

The climb to the highest tower felt endless. No one spoke much. The crystal staircases spiraled upward through the heart of Everfrost Palace. Outside enormous windows, snow drifted across the frozen kingdom below. Silver forests. Frozen rivers. Countless towers. All of it stretched endlessly beneath pale northern skies. Moon walked ahead. Silent. The fairies that usually danced around him seemed quieter than usual. As though even they understood the importance of this moment. Toivo followed several steps behind. He could not explain why his chest felt tight. Only that every step upward made the feeling worse. The White King. The entire kingdom seemed built around him. Every mural. Every story. Every memory. Every frozen soul within the citadel. Everything led back to him. And somehow everything also led back to Moon. The connection was impossible to ignore. At last they reached the summit. Before them stood a pair of immense crystal doors. Neither guards nor servants waited there. Only silence. Moon stopped. The fairies hovering around him gathered closer. Tiny lights floating near his shoulders. For a long moment he simply stared at the doors. Then slowly they opened. Toivo expected a throne room. Instead he found a garden. A winter garden. Beautiful beyond words. Silver trees stood beneath a crystal dome. Frozen flowers bloomed beneath snow. Moonlight flowed through the transparent ceiling despite it being daytime. Everything shimmered. Everything glowed. At the center of the garden stood a single figure. Waiting. Motionless. Alone. The White King. Toivo froze. So did Gret. Even Kev stopped walking. The ruler of Everfrost slowly turned toward them. And suddenly Toivo felt sick. Because Gret immediately blurted out what everyone was thinking.

"Oh."

The giant Northman pointed directly at the White King. Then directly at Toivo. Then back at the White King.

"Oh."

Silence. Gret squinted.

"That is just Toivo."

Toivo nearly died.

Kev immediately covered his face.

"Remarkably subtle, Gret."

The giant frowned.

"But look."

"I am looking."

"He looks exactly like him."

"Yes."

"I thought maybe my eyes were broken."

Kev sighed.

"No. Sadly your eyes function perfectly."

The White King actually blinked.Apparently even immortal rulers weren't immune to Gret's honesty. Toivo wished the ice beneath him would open and swallow him whole. Because Gret wasn't wrong. The resemblance was undeniable. The White King was taller. More elegant. More refined. But the similarities were impossible to ignore. Both possessed fair hair. Sharp features. Northern beauty. Blue eyes. Strong builds. Even their faces shared similarities. As though one reflected the other through a distorted mirror. Yet where Toivo was rough the White King was flawless. Toivo carried scars earned through survival. The White King's skin resembled polished marble. Toivo's blond hair was windswept and untamed. The White King's pale silver-blond hair fell perfectly to his shoulders. Toivo looked like a warrior. The White King looked like a king. No. Like something beyond a king. He wore layered white robes and silver armor trimmed with frost crystals. A long fur-lined cloak cascaded behind him. A crown of enchanted ice rested upon his head. His pale skin seemed carved from winter itself. His eyes glowed like frozen lakes beneath moonlight. Beautiful. Terrifying. Ancient. Ice crystals seem to dance around him. Everything Toivo wasn't. Everything Toivo could never become. The White King looked directly at him. Not with hostility.Not even curiosity. Only recognition. As though he already knew exactly who Toivo was. That somehow felt worse. Toivo suddenly remembered the first time he met Moon. The Silver Lake. The ruined wasteland. The impossible beauty of a god descending from the sky. Moon's long black hair. Moon's pale skin. Moon's eyes. Those impossible eyes. Jet black.  So dark they seemed to swallow light itself. Eyes that turned silver when moonlight touched them. Eyes Toivo had dreamed about more times than he cared to admit. Even now looking at Moon still made his heart race. The sensation had only grown worse over time. The feeling of flying. The feeling of standing beside someone beautiful enough to make the world itself seem dull. The feeling of wanting more. Wanting impossible things. And now standing before him stood a king. A man who looked as though he belonged beside Moon. Not a wasteland survivor. Not a former slave. Not a confused young warrior. A king. An immortal king. A god. Toivo hated the thought immediately. Yet it refused to leave. Was he just a replacement? The question struck like a knife. Toivo looked toward Moon. Moon looked toward the White King. And for a brief moment the rest of the world disappeared. No words. No movement. Just two ancient beings looking at one another. Something passed between them. Something old. Something painful. Something neither seemed capable of expressing aloud. The White King spoke first. His voice was calm. Soft. Cold as falling snow. Yet strangely beautiful.

"Moon."

The entire room seemed to freeze. Even the fairies stopped moving. Moon lowered his eyes briefly. Then looked back up.

"Nico."

The name echoed through the garden. The White King's expression changed. Only slightly. But enough. Enough for Toivo to see it. Enough to realize something important. The White King had waited a very long time to hear Moon say his name.

Kev quietly folded his arms.

"Oh."

Gret glanced toward him.

"What?"

Kev smirked.

"We are definitely interrupting something."

Moon immediately ignored him. The White King ignored him too. Though a tiny crack appeared in his composure. Almost a smile. Almost. Then the White King's gaze drifted toward Toivo once more. The immortal ruler studied him carefully. Toivo felt exposed. Measured. Compared.

The White King finally spoke.

"You carry his blessing."

His eyes moved toward Frostfang. Toward the moon fairies. Toward the faint traces of divine power surrounding Toivo. Then back to his face.

"You resemble someone I once knew."

Toivo stiffened.

The White King's expression became distant. Melancholy. As though remembering something far away. Something precious. Then his attention returned to Moon. And immediately softened. The change was subtle. Yet impossible to miss.

Toivo noticed.

Kev noticed.

Even Gret noticed.

Which was unfortunate because Gret immediately whispered:

"Oh no."

Kev rubbed his forehead.

"What now?"

"I understand."

"No you don't."

"I do."

Gret pointed between Moon and the White King.

Kev groaned.

The White King pretended not to hear.

Moon absolutely heard.

Toivo wanted to throw Gret from the tower. The giant looked genuinely pleased with himself. Meanwhile the White King's attention never truly left Moon. Not entirely. The centuries between them felt visible. Like a wound that had never healed. Finally the immortal king stepped forward. Snow drifted around him. The garden seemed to respond to his presence. Flowers of ice blooming beneath every footstep. The air grew colder. Yet somehow gentler. He stopped several feet away. Neither too close. Nor too far. And quietly said:

"You came north."

Moon's expression softened. Just slightly.

"I did."

The White King nodded. As though that alone answered a question centuries old.

Then he closed his eyes. A long breath escaped him. For the first time since entering the tower the ruler of Everfrost looked relieved. As though some unbearable burden had finally become lighter. Outside snow continued falling across the endless kingdom. And somewhere deep within his chest Toivo felt the first sharp ache of a jealousy he could neither understand nor escape. Because for the first time he realized there were parts of Moon's life that existed long before him. And some of them had never truly been left behind.

Tower of Thorns Tower of Fangs volume 4 chapter 10

Volume IV  The White King

ARC II  THE CASTLE OF ICE

Chapter 10  The First Conversation

Night fell over Everfrost. Auroras danced across northern skies. Silver. Blue. Violet. Their reflections shimmered across the frozen towers of the citadel. The palace slept. Or at least pretended to. Toivo could not. The image of the White King refused to leave his thoughts. The resemblance. The way he looked at Moon. The way Moon looked back. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Much more. Meanwhile far above the palace Moon stood alone upon a crystal balcony overlooking the kingdom. Snow drifted gently around him. Moonlight illuminated his pale skin. His long black hair flowed behind him like liquid silk. The fairies surrounding him floated quietly through the night air. None of them spoke. The kingdom below glittered beneath fresh snowfall. Beautiful. Silent. Ancient. Footsteps approached. Moon already knew who it was. The White King emerged from the shadows. Alone. No guards. No servants. No crown. Tonight he wore only simple white robes beneath a heavy fur cloak. For a moment he looked less like a king. And more like someone remembered. Neither spoke immediately. The years between them felt too large. Too heavy. Eventually the White King stopped beside him. Together they looked out across Everfrost. The silence stretched. Comfortable. Painful. Familiar. 

Finally Moon spoke first.

"You built all this."

The White King nodded. Snow drifted across silver hair.

"Someone had to."

His voice remained calm. Yet something trembled beneath it.

Moon lowered his eyes.

"The forest."

A pause.

"The lakes."

Another pause.

"The mountains."

The White King smiled faintly.

"You remember."

Moon did not answer. The answer was obvious. How could he not? The silence returned. Then unexpectedly the White King laughed. A quiet sound. Gentle. Rare.

Moon looked surprised. The immortal king shook his head slightly.

"You still do that."

Moon blinked.

"Do what?"

"Refuse to say what you're thinking."

The fairies surrounding Moon brightened faintly. A small reaction. A familiar reaction. The White King's smile softened. And for a brief moment the centuries seemed to vanish. Moon remembered. A woodland. Long ago. Before kingdoms. Before towers. Before grief. Sunlight filtering through leaves. Wildflowers. Green grass. A young celestial lying beneath an ancient tree. Long black hair spread around him. Jet-black eyes reflecting the sky above. Beside him another boy. blond hair. Blue eyes. Watching him. Smiling. No crowns. No kingdoms. No immortality. Just two young souls staring at one another beneath summer skies. The memory arrived suddenly. Sharp. Painfully vivid. Moon immediately looked away. The White King noticed.

"You still remember."

Moon's expression remained calm. Too calm.

The White King's smile faded. Because he knew that look. The same look Moon wore whenever something hurt. A long silence followed. Then the White King quietly asked:

"Do you remember the river?"

Moon closed his eyes. The memory returned. A river valley. Sunlight. Laughter. Grass beneath bare feet. A first kiss. Awkward. Gentle. Innocent. The kind of moment that only exists once. The kind that feels eternal while it lasts. Moon opened his eyes again. Silver briefly flashed within the darkness. Then vanished. The White King's gaze lowered. Neither spoke. Because both remembered what came after. Not clearly. Not completely. Only fragments. Broken pieces. A battlefield. Blood. A night sky. Three shadows. A betrayal. Pain. Moon's hand unconsciously moved toward his chest. Directly above his heart. The White King's eyes widened slightly. He noticed. Moon immediately lowered his hand. Too late. The immortal king looked away. A shadow crossed his face. Regret. Ancient regret. The kind that never truly disappears. Snow continued falling. Soft. Silent. Merciless.

The White King finally whispered:

"I didn't understand."

Moon remained silent.

The king laughed bitterly.

"Perhaps none of us did."

A distant memory flickered. Four young figures. Together. Laughing. Traveling. A celestial. A wolf. A jester. A silent boy with blue eyes. Then darkness. A choice. A terrible choice. Power. Blood. Moon's expression tightened. Only slightly. But enough.

The White King's voice became softer.

"We were young."

Moon finally answered.

"We were not children."

The words struck harder than anger. The White King's shoulders lowered. Because Moon was right. Whatever happened they had chosen it. 

The king looked toward the stars.

"The others still blame you."

Moon looked surprised.

A bitter smile appeared.

"They always did."

"Eemil especially."

At the mention of the name the night itself seemed colder.

The White King sighed.

"He tells himself you abandoned us."

Moon's expression became distant.

"No."

The answer came quietly.

Yet carried centuries of sorrow.

"I didn't."

The White King closed his eyes. Because somewhere deep inside he knew that was true. Moon had never abandoned them. Something else had happened. Something worse. Something neither of them seemed willing to speak aloud.

The silence stretched once more.

Then Moon quietly asked:

"How much do you remember?"

The White King smiled sadly.

"Less every century."

His hand touched the balcony railing.

Ice spread beneath his fingertips.

"I remember your face."

A pause.

"Your voice."

Another pause.

"Your eyes."

Moon looked away.

The king continued softly:

"And the feeling that I lost something important."

The words lingered.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

Far below Everfrost slept beneath falling snow. High above the auroras danced. Beautiful. Ancient. Silent. The White King finally looked toward Moon. For the first time that evening the ruler of Everfrost seemed tired. Emotionally. The exhaustion of carrying centuries. Of remembering too little. Of regretting too much.

"You should hate me."

Moon was quiet. The fairies surrounding him drifted lazily through the night. Then finally the celestial god answered.

"No."

The White King's breath caught.

Moon's expression remained gentle. As it always had.

"I tried."

The confession shattered something. For a moment the White King looked younger. Not a king.  Not an immortal. Just a lonely soul standing beneath northern stars. Moon looked toward the horizon. Toward endless snow. Toward forgotten years. Toward wounds neither of them fully understood.

Then quietly said:

"Some things hurt too much to hate."

The White King lowered his eyes.

And for the first time in centuries neither knew what to say.

Far below unseen by either of them Toivo stood at a distant balcony. Watching. Unable to hear the conversation. Unable to understand. Yet somehow his heart still ached. As though the snow itself carried the sorrow of two people who had once meant everything to one another. And somewhere deep within the frozen north old memories continued to awaken. Memories of love. Memories of friendship. Memories of betrayal. And a night when Moon's heart had been broken. Not by enemies. But by the people he trusted most.

Tower of Thorns Tower of Tears Volume 4 Chapter 11

 

Volume IV  The White King

ARC II  THE CASTLE OF ICE

Chapter 11 A Beautiful Prison

Memories are a fool's game, the pain and sorrow of heartbreak, an invisible stake driven through the heart. It is a form of torture that keeps repeating the same memory on an endless loop, bringing both pain and pleasure. The cycle never ends, and the loneliest of men create their own prison: a prison of ice, a prison of trapped memories. Within its frozen walls, they wander alone, haunted by echoes of what once was. Every remembered smile becomes another chain, every lingering thought another lock upon the door. Though they long for freedom, they cling to the very memories that bind them, and so the prison endures.

Morning came slowly to Everfrost. The sun never truly rose here. Instead, pale silver light filtered through snow clouds and dancing auroras, painting the frozen kingdom in shades of blue, white, and silver. Toivo stood upon a crystal balcony overlooking the endless northern wilderness. The view was breathtaking. Forests of frost-covered pines stretched beyond the horizon. Frozen rivers wound through valleys like ribbons of glass. Snow-covered mountains pierced the distant sky. Beautiful. Perfect. Silent. And somehow unsettling. Toivo tightened his grip upon the balcony railing. Something felt wrong. The feeling had lingered ever since arriving. At first he had dismissed it. The White King had welcomed them. The court treated them with respect. The palace servants bowed whenever Moon passed. No one had threatened them. No one had imprisoned them. Yet... Something felt wrong. Behind him the balcony doors opened. Gret emerged carrying a wooden training axe. The giant Northman looked unusually irritated.

"Morning."

Toivo glanced over.

"You look angry."

"I am angry."

That immediately caught Toivo's attention.

Gret rarely became angry without reason.

"What happened?"

The giant scowled.

"I tried leaving."

Toivo blinked.

"What?"

Gret folded his massive arms.

"I tried leaving."

A pause.

"Apparently I am not allowed."

Toivo straightened immediately.

"What do you mean?"

The giant scratched his beard.

"Exactly what I said."

His blue eyes narrowed.

"I walked toward the southern gate."

"And?"

"Then twelve Frost Death Reapers appeared."

Toivo stared.

Gret continued.

"They were polite."

That somehow sounded worse.

"Very polite."

"Then?"

"They told me the White King requested that guests remain within palace grounds until further notice."

Silence. The wind howled softly across the frozen kingdom.

Toivo frowned.

"Requested?"

"Requested."

Gret looked deeply unconvinced by the distinction. A moment later Kev appeared. In human form. Pale skin. Short red hair. Crimson eyes. A dark cloak draped over elegant clothing. He looked thoroughly amused.

"Good morning."

Gret pointed accusingly.

"They imprisoned us."

Kev sighed.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Kev."

"What?"

"They literally stopped me from leaving."

Kev nodded.

"Correct."

"That's imprisonment."

"No."

The red-haired steward smiled.

"It's hospitality."

Gret looked horrified.

"Hospitality is terrifying in the North."

Kev laughed.

Toivo wasn't laughing. Because Gret was right. Something wasn't adding up. At that moment a group of Frost Death Reapers appeared below. Marching silently across the courtyard. Their silver armor gleamed beneath falling snow. Every movement was precise. Disciplined. Efficient. Toivo noticed something. The Reapers weren't guarding the palace. They were guarding them. The realization made his stomach tighten. The Frost Death Reapers always seemed nearby. Always watching. Always observing. Never interfering. Yet never leaving. As though invisible chains surrounded the guests. Chains forged from courtesy. The balcony doors opened once more. Moon stepped outside. Immediately the atmosphere changed. The fairies surrounding him drifted lazily through the cold air. Tiny winged lights dancing around his long black hair. Today his eyes were dark. Pure black. Deep enough to swallow moonlight itself. Moon looked toward them.

"You discovered it."

Gret pointed dramatically.

"We are prisoners."

Moon sighed.

"No."

"We are."

"No."

"We absolutely are."

Moon looked toward the distant courtyard. The fairies dimmed slightly. His expression became thoughtful. Then surprisingly he nodded.

"A little."

Silence.

Toivo blinked.

Kev nearly laughed.

Gret looked victorious.

"I knew it."

Moon rubbed his forehead.

"The White King is not holding us captive."

"Then why can't we leave?"

Moon was quiet for a moment. The answer seemed obvious to him. Which somehow worried Toivo more. Finally Moon spoke.

"Because he waited centuries for this."

The words hung heavily in the air. No one immediately responded. Even Gret fell silent. Moon looked toward the northern horizon. Far away. Beyond mountains and forests. Beyond snow and ice. Toward something only he could see.

"He is afraid."

That surprised Toivo.

"The White King?"

Moon nodded.

"Afraid I will disappear again."

The fairies drifting around him glowed softly. Silver light danced through the falling snow. Toivo suddenly remembered the look on the White King's face. The relief. The exhaustion. The centuries of waiting. The king had looked less like a ruler and more like someone terrified of losing something precious.

Moon lowered his eyes.

"He won't force us to stay."

Kev raised an eyebrow.

"He already has."

Moon ignored him.

"He simply..."

The celestial god searched for the right words.

"...doesn't know how to let us leave."

That somehow felt sadder. Far below bells rang throughout the palace. The sound echoed across frozen courtyards. Crystal towers. Snow-covered bridges. The entire citadel seemed alive. Yet despite all its beauty Toivo suddenly understood. Everfrost was a kingdom built from memory. A kingdom built from waiting. A kingdom built around one person. Moon. The White King had spent centuries preserving pieces of the past. The murals. The stories. The court. The castle itself. Everything existed because he remembered. Everything existed because he could not forget. And now the object of that memory stood within his reach. No wonder he refused to let go. Later that day Toivo explored the palace alone. The halls stretched endlessly. Crystal corridors. Frozen gardens. Moonlit libraries, Everywhere he went he found reminders of the White King's obsession. Paintings. Statues. Ancient records. Songs. Poems. Entire wings of the palace dedicated to forgotten ages. Many featured Moon. Some openly. Others subtly. A moon symbol hidden among flowers. A black-haired figure standing beside a frozen lake. A silver fairy carved into crystal. Small details. Countless details. The deeper Toivo wandered the more uneasy he became. This wasn't a kingdom. It was a monument. A monument to memory. And perhaps to regret. Eventually he found himself standing before an enormous stained-glass window. The image depicted four figures beneath a summer sky. A black-haired celestial. A silver-haired youth. A laughing boy. A wild-eyed young man. The glass was ancient. Beautiful. Broken in places. Toivo stared silently. The four looked happy. Carefree. Alive. Before everything went wrong. The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. He turned. The White King stood at the opposite end of the hall. Alone. Silent. Watching the same window.

For a moment neither spoke.

Then the king quietly said:

"It was a very long time ago."

His voice echoed softly through the corridor.

Toivo looked back toward the stained glass.

"They seemed happy."

The White King smiled sadly.

"They were."

Silence followed. Snow drifted outside. The king's pale blue eyes lingered on the image. Then he quietly added:

"That is why it hurt."

Toivo didn't ask what he meant.

Somehow he already knew.

The White King turned and walked away. His white cloak disappeared into the frozen corridors. Leaving Toivo alone with the realization that frightened him most. The White King wasn't their enemy. Not yet. But this kingdom this beautiful kingdom of ice was built around a wound that had never healed. And wounds like that rarely remained peaceful forever. Outside snow continued falling over Everfrost. Silent. Endless. Watching.

Tower of Thorns Tower of Tears Volume 4 chapter 12

 

Volume IV  The White King

ARC II  THE CASTLE OF ICE

Chapter 12  The King of Winter

There are few things in the world more beautiful than falling snow. It softens every wound upon the earth. Mountains become silver giants. Forests become cathedrals of white. Even ruined things seem gentle beneath winter's touch. Snow hides scars. Ice captures light. And for a brief moment, the world appears untouched by grief. But beauty and sadness have always been close companions. For every snowflake that falls, something grows quieter. Roads disappear. Voices fade. Warmth retreats. The world becomes distant. Lonely. There is a particular sorrow found only in winter a silence so vast it seems capable of swallowing entire lives. A frozen lake remembers the laughter that once echoed across its surface. An empty field remembers footsteps long vanished. And a kingdom buried beneath endless snow remembers everyone it has lost.

Everfrost was such a kingdom. Magnificent beyond imagination. Terrible in its loneliness. Its towers glittered like stars trapped within crystal. Its streets shone beneath moonlit frost. Its skies wept snow without end. To the rare travelers, it appeared beautiful. To those who lived there, it felt like a memory that could never move on. For at the heart of Everfrost sat a king who had conquered time itself. A king who could preserve every memory. A king who could command winter. And yet, despite all his power he remained one of the loneliest souls in existence.

The snow never stopped falling in Everfrost. Day. Night. Winter. Summer. It made no difference. Snow drifted endlessly from pale skies above the frozen kingdom. Toivo stood near one of the palace windows watching white flakes descend over crystal rooftops.

The longer he remained within the White King's domain, the less certain he became about the ruler himself. He had expected a tyrant. A monster. An immortal king consumed by obsession. Instead he found someone difficult to hate. That troubled him. Because it would have been easier if the White King were cruel. Easier if he were evil. Easier if Toivo could simply despise him. Yet every day revealed another contradiction. The servants adored him. The Frost Reapers obeyed him with absolute loyalty. Even the snow spirits seemed drawn toward him. And whenever Moon appeared the White King's eyes changed. Not with hatred nor with ambition. But with something far sadder. Something Toivo recognized all too well. Longing.

That afternoon the White King personally invited them deeper into the palace. No guards. No court. Only the king himself. Moon accepted immediately. The short-red haired gothic butler Kev looked suspicious. The tall Nordic warrior Gret looked hungry. Toivo remained uncertain. The White King led them through corridors few others seemed allowed to enter. The deeper they traveled, the quieter the palace became. Eventually they arrived before enormous crystal doors. Ancient runes glowed across the surface. Silver frost spread across the walls. The king touched the doors. They opened silently. Everyone stopped. Even Kev. Before them stretched an enormous chamber. A cathedral of crystal. Thousands upon thousands of crystal pillars filled the room. Some stood no larger than candles. Others towered toward the ceiling like frozen trees. Every crystal glowed softly from within. Blue. Silver. White. Gold. The entire chamber shimmered with countless lights. Toivo stared speechlessly.

"What is this?"

For a moment the White King's expression softened.

"My treasury."

Gret blinked.

"Where is the gold?"

The king actually looked confused.

"Gold?"

"Every king has gold."

Kev sighed.

"Not all kings are dragons."

The White King ignored them. His gaze drifted toward the endless crystal forest.

"These are more valuable."

Moon had gone very still. His fairies floated quietly around him. Almost reverently. The king walked between the crystals. His fingers brushed one gently. Immediately light bloomed inside. And a memory appeared. A young boy laughing. Summer sunlight. A river. The image lasted only seconds before fading.

Toivo froze.

"What was that?"

The White King smiled sadly.

"A memory."

Silence. He continued walking.

"Every crystal contains something precious."

Another crystal glowed. A woman embracing a child. A feast. A farewell. Thousands of lives. Thousands of moments. Preserved forever. The king's voice echoed softly through the chamber.

"People forget."

His hand rested against another crystal.

"I do not."

More memories illuminated the room.

Entire lifetimes sleeping within frozen crystal.

Joy.

Love.

Loss.

Regret.

The White King had preserved them all.

Toivo slowly realized the truth. The king wasn't collecting treasure. He was collecting memories. Saving them. Protecting them. Because he could not bear to lose them. The realization hurt unexpectedly. Because it reminded him of someone else. Moon. The deeper they ventured the older the crystals became. Ancient memories appeared. Forgotten kingdoms. Dead civilizations. People long turned to dust. Entire ages preserved within frozen light. Then Toivo noticed a separate section. Hidden behind a wall of enormous ice pillars. The White King immediately stiffened. Moon noticed too. The king looked away. Too late. Toivo had already seen it. Unlike the others these crystals glowed crimson. Not blue. Not silver. Red. Like blood. Like a wound.

The White King's voice became quieter.

"You should not go there."

That alone guaranteed Gret would.

The giant immediately walked toward the forbidden section.

Kev followed. Mostly out of curiosity. Toivo followed because everyone else was. Moon remained where he stood. Watching silently. The crimson crystals pulsed softly. Almost like beating hearts. Inside them the memories were different. Violent. Broken. Incomplete. One crystal revealed a silver-haired youth laughing beneath summer trees. Another showed four young figures sitting around a campfire. Moon. Eemil. Matias. And Nico. Young. Carefree. Happy. Toivo stared. The image vanished. Another crystal illuminated. A battlefield. Smoke. Blood. Shouting. Then darkness. The memory shattered before it could reveal more.

The White King lowered his eyes.

"Those are damaged."

His voice sounded distant.

"Damaged how?"

For several seconds he didn't answer. Finally

"The memories were taken."

Everyone looked toward him.

"The Blood Wraith."

The name echoed through the chamber.

Moon's expression changed. Only slightly. Yet enough.

The White King continued.

"When I divided myself long ago..."

Silence.

"...I did not separate only power."

Toivo frowned.

"What does that mean?"

The king stared at one crimson crystal. He looked genuinely tired.

"I removed everything that made me weak."

The words felt wrong. Painfully wrong. The White King touched the crystal. It glowed softly. Inside appeared a young fair-haired boy staring at Moon beneath summer sunlight. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. Trust. Affection. Something deeper. Then the image vanished.

The king lowered his hand.

"My regrets."

Another crystal.

"My hopes."

Another.

"My grief."

Another.

"My love."

Silence.

The chamber itself seemed to stop breathing.

Toivo felt suddenly cold.

The White King looked toward the crimson crystals.

"The Blood Wraith inherited those things."

Moon remained silent. The fairies around him dimmed softly.

The White King smiled bitterly.

"I believed removing them would make me stronger."

His gaze drifted upward.

"I became king."

Another smile. Sadder now.

"I became immortal."

A pause.

"I became empty."

The words hung heavily in the air. No one knew how to respond. Even Kev looked uncomfortable. Because suddenly the Blood Wraith made sense. The relentless pursuit. The obsession. The strange emotions. The impossible resemblance. The Blood Wraith wasn't merely a servant. Or a clone. Or a shadow. He was a fragment. A piece of Nico's soul. Everything the White King had discarded. Everything he could not bear to carry. Everything he still missed. 

Much later after Gret and Kev wandered off Toivo remained behind. The crystal chamber was quiet. Snowlight filtered through distant windows. The White King stood alone among his memories. A solitary figure surrounded by centuries. Toivo looked around the endless crystal forest.

Then finally asked:

"Are you lonely?"

The question escaped before he could stop it. The White King looked surprised. Then for the first time he laughed. Not like a king nor like an immortal. Just a tired man.

"Aren't we all?"

The answer lingered. Simple. Honest. Painful. Toivo suddenly understood something. The White King wasn't preserving memories because he loved the past. He preserved them because he feared forgetting. Because forgetting meant losing people forever. Because memories were all he had left. And for centuries one memory had remained brighter than all the others. Moon. The Celestial God. The one person the King of Winter had never truly stopped waiting for. Outside snow continued falling over Everfrost. And within the crystal cathedral the memories of countless lives glowed softly in the darkness. Like stars trapped within ice. Waiting. Just as their king had waited. For far too long.

Tower of Thorns Tower of Fangs Volume 4 chapter 13

Volume IV  The White King

ARC III  DREAMS OF ANOTHER LIFE

Chapter 13  The Forgotten Spring

Night settled gently over Everfrost. Snow drifted endlessly beyond the crystal windows. Auroras shimmered across northern skies. The frozen kingdom slept beneath silver moonlight. Yet one soul could not find peace. Moon stood alone upon a balcony overlooking the endless white forests. The cold did not touch him. The wind did not disturb him. Tiny fairies of light drifted lazily around his long black hair. Some rested upon his shoulders. Others circled his robes like living stars. Far below, the White King's domain stretched toward the horizon. Beautiful. Silent. Frozen. Moon stared at it for a long time. Then finally closed his eyes. Something hurt. Deeper. A pain buried beneath centuries. A wound older than kingdoms. Older than the Tower of Fangs. Older than his daughters. Older than Toivo. A memory. One he could almost touch. Yet never quite reach. Moon slowly turned away. His fairies followed.And eventually the Celestial God slept.

The dream began with warmth. Not snow. Not ice. Sunlight. Bright golden sunlight. Moon immediately realized something impossible. It was summer. The air smelled of flowers. Birdsong echoed through distant trees. Grass swayed beneath gentle winds. Moon stood in the middle of a vast meadow. Young. Far younger than he should have been. His hair was shorter. Still black. Still beautiful. But falling only to his waist. His robes were simpler. White silk. Silver embroidery. No crown. No divine symbols. No burdens. Only youth. Only freedom. Only sunlight. Moon looked down at his hands. Unscarred. Untouched by sorrow. The sight alone hurt. Because he remembered none of it. Yet somehow he missed it. Laughter echoed nearby. Moon turned. And saw them. Four figures running through tall grass. Young. Carefree. Alive.

Eemil.

Matias.

Nico.

And himself.

The sight froze his heart. For a moment none looked like monsters.  None looked like kings. None looked like gods. Only boys. Young men standing at the edge of adulthood. At the edge of destiny. Before everything shattered.

Eemil was the first to appear clearly. Dark Brown hair. green-grey eyes. Pale skin. A wild grin. His elegant black coat hung open carelessly as he sprinted through the grass. A Shadow fox  and two shadow wolves chased him playfully.  Small. Almost puppy-like. Nothing like the horrors they would someday become. Eemil laughed loudly. The kind of laugh belonging to someone who feared absolutely nothing.

"You're cheating!"

Moon blinked. The voice felt familiar. Painfully familiar. Eemil pointed accusingly toward someone behind him.

"Tell him he's cheating!"

Another voice answered.

Amused.

Dry.

"You only say that when you're losing."

Matias emerged next.

Tall.

Light brown hair.

Blue eyes.

Pale skin.

His smile was effortless.

Warm.

Unlike the frozen grin hidden beneath his future mask. He carried twin sickles slung over one shoulder. Not weapons. Tools. Practice blades. Matias looked human. Entirely human. Moon suddenly found that heartbreaking. Because he knew what Matias would become. What all of them would become.

Then Moon saw him.

Nico.

The dream seemed to pause. As though the world itself held its breath. Nico stood beneath an ancient oak tree.

Blond hair.

Pale skin.

Blue eyes.

Handsome.

Not beautiful like Moon.

Not ethereal.

Not divine.

Human.

Warm.

Real.

His features immediately reminded Moon of Toivo. The resemblance was unmistakable. Yet Nico's face carried a softness Toivo lacked. A quiet gentleness. A calmness. Nico always seemed slightly apart from the others. Not lonely. Just observant. Watching. Listening. Thinking. Moon found himself unable to look away. The dream noticed. Because suddenly Nico looked back. Their eyes met. And the world vanished. The meadow disappeared. The laughter faded. Everything became quiet. Only Moon and Nico remained. Standing beneath the great oak. The wind moved gently through golden leaves overhead. Neither spoke. They didn't need to. The silence felt comfortable. Natural. Ancient. Moon felt something then. A warmth inside his chest. A feeling so unfamiliar it startled him. Not friendship. Not affection. Something deeper. Something frightening. Something precious. Nico stepped closer. Slowly. As though afraid sudden movement might break the moment. Moon remained still. Their eyes never left each other. Blue. And black. Sky. And night. Opposites. Complements. The memory blurred. Yet the feeling remained. Moon knew. Even if the dream refused to show everything. He had loved him. They had loved each other. The realization struck like lightning. Moon woke briefly. His body tensed. His silver eyes opened. The dark room greeted him. Snow drifted outside. The fairies slept nearby. Moon sat silently upon his bed. His heart felt strangely heavy. Because for the first time he knew the truth. Not all of it. Only enough. Enough to hurt. Enough to understand why the White King's gaze felt so familiar. Enough to understand why the Blood Wraith pursued him. Enough to understand why certain memories remained buried. Moon closed his eyes again. The dream immediately returned. This time the meadow was gone. The sky had darkened. Clouds gathered overhead. The grass bent beneath growing winds. Something had changed. The four friends stood together. No longer laughing. No longer smiling. Something terrible had happened. Moon couldn't hear their words. The dream refused. The memory remained broken. Fragmented. Incomplete. Yet he saw enough.

Eemil looked angry.

Matias looked afraid.

Nico looked devastated.

And Moon Moon looked betrayed.

The feeling struck harder than any blade. Because it felt real. Painfully real. As though his heart remembered what his mind could not. The wind howled. The dream cracked. Images flashed. Blood. Tears. A hand reaching forward. A desperate plea. Then a wooden stake. Moon's eyes widened. The image came and went in an instant. Yet he saw enough. A stake piercing white robes. Straight through the heart. Nico holding it. Crying. The dream shattered. Moon awoke. For real this time. Breathing heavily. The room stood silent. Dark. Cold. Snow falling beyond crystal windows. His hand instinctively touched his chest. The place where the phantom pain lingered. Where the memory said he had died. Or nearly died. Moon sat motionless. Fairies slowly awakened around him. Concerned. Curious. Tiny lights gathered around his shoulders. Yet Moon barely noticed, he remembered something. Not clearly. Not fully. But enough. Enough to know that the White King had not merely betrayed him. Enough to know that whatever happened that day it had broken all four of them. And somehow... It had made them gods. Moon slowly rose from his bed. The fairies followed. 

Outside snow continued falling over Everfrost. And somewhere within the frozen kingdom the White King sat awake as well. Staring into the darkness. Remembering. Waiting. Just as he always had.

Tower of Thorns Tower of Fangs Volume 4 chapter 18

 

Volume IV  The White King

ARC III  DREAMS OF ANOTHER LIFE

Chapter 18  Jealousy

 Jealousy is often winter. It comes quietly. A single snowflake settling upon the heart. Then another. And another. Until one day the world is buried beneath something cold enough to make every warmth feel distant. Jealousy is a mirror cracked by fear. It does not show what is there. It shows what might be lost. A smile becomes a secret. A memory becomes a rival. A glance becomes a wound. The jealous heart is a traveler standing before a locked gate, convinced everyone else possesses the key. It measures itself against ghosts. Against histories. Against impossible standards. And every comparison steals another piece of peace. The cruelest thing about jealousy is that it feeds on love. Like ivy wrapping around a tree, it grows from something living and beautiful. Yet if left alone, it tightens. Slowly. Patiently. Until it begins to choke the very thing that gave it life. For Toivo, jealousy was not anger. It was a shadow cast by the past. A cold hand resting upon his shoulder whenever he looked at Moon and remembered that someone else had been there first. Someone who shared memories he never could. Someone who belonged to chapters of Moon's life that Toivo would never read. And in the frozen kingdom of Everfrost, surrounded by monuments to a history older than nations, that shadow felt impossible to escape. Because some wounds are not caused by enemies. Some are caused by the simple fear that the person you love might carry a part of their heart somewhere you cannot follow. The snow fell endlessly beyond the crystal windows. Soft. Silent. Merciless. Toivo hated Everfrost. Not the cold. Not the ice. Not the Frost Reapers. Not even the White King. No. What Toivo hated was the past. The realization came suddenly. Like a knife sliding between his ribs. He stood alone upon one of the citadel's countless balconies. Far below stretched frozen forests and endless white mountains. The northern lights shimmered above the world in curtains of emerald and silver. Beautiful, Ancient. and Timeless. Toivo could not appreciate any of it. Because all he could think about was Moon. And someone else. Nico. The White King. His fingers tightened against the frozen stone railing. He hated himself for thinking about it. Yet he could not stop. Everywhere he looked there were reminders. Paintings. Statues. Stories. Crystals containing memories.

Moon.

Moon.

Moon.

Always Moon.

The White King's entire kingdom felt built around a single person. And somehow that person wasn't him. Toivo laughed bitterly. A humorless sound. Of course it wasn't him. He was being ridiculous. Moon had known Nico for centuries. Maybe longer. Long before Toivo was born. Long before he survived the deserts of Baal. Long before he ever stood beside Silver Lake and saw a celestial god emerge from the water like a dream. Long before Moon changed his life forever. Toivo looked down. The reflection staring back from the frozen railing disturbed him. Because lately he could see it too. The resemblance. The White King. The Blood Wraith. Himself.

Tall.

Blond.

Blue-eyed.

Different. Yet similar enough. The first time Gret had pointed it out, everyone laughed. Even Kev. Now it wasn't funny anymore. Now it haunted him. Was that why Moon helped him? The thought made his stomach twist. Was that why Moon saved him? Protected him? Stayed beside him? Because he reminded Moon of someone else? Someone better? Someone Moon once loved? Toivo immediately hated himself for thinking it. But the thought remained. Persistent. Cruel.

Impossible to silence.

"You're sulking."

Toivo turned.

Kev sat upon the balcony railing in cat form. Tail flicking lazily. Eyes changing color, Golden eyes half-open.

"I am not."

"You are."

"I'm thinking."

"That's usually the problem."

Toivo scowled.

Kev yawned.

Then jumped down beside him. For a moment neither spoke. Snow drifted between them.

Finally Kev sighed.

"You look like a man preparing to wrestle a mountain."

"Maybe I am."

"No."

Kev glanced toward the distant towers of the citadel.

"You look jealous."

The word struck harder than any sword.

Toivo looked away.

Kev immediately knew.

"Oh."

The cat's ears twitched.

"Oh, that's unfortunate."

Toivo wanted to punch him. Instead he remained silent.

Kev sat beside him. Uncharacteristically serious.

"You know," he said eventually, "I once saw Gret challenge a dragon because it looked at his horse."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It reminds me of you."

Toivo groaned.

Kev ignored him.

"Jealousy makes people stupid."

Toivo stared toward the snow. Because unfortunately Kev was right. He knew he was being irrational. He knew Moon had never given him reason to doubt. Yet every time he saw Moon speaking with the White King something ugly stirred inside him. Something painful. The White King understood things Toivo never could. Memories. Dreams. Names. A past stretching back centuries. Moon would look at him differently. Softer. Sadder. As though part of him still lived in those memories. And Toivo hated it. Not because Moon remembered. Because Toivo couldn't compete. How could he? He was nineteen. A mortal from a wasteland. Moon was older than civilizations. The White King was older than nations. Their story began before history itself. Toivo's story had begun beside a dying well in a desert. The comparison felt unfair. And yet his heart made it anyway.

 That evening a banquet filled Everfrost's great hall. Crystal chandeliers illuminated endless tables. Frozen musicians played silver instruments. Nobles of frost and vampire lords gathered beneath vaulted ceilings. Moon sat beside the White King. Talking quietly. Not smiling. Not laughing. Simply talking. Yet somehow that hurt more. Because it felt intimate. Real. Toivo sat at the opposite end of the hall. Ignoring food. Ignoring conversation. Ignoring everyone. Until Gret sat beside him. The giant warrior immediately grabbed three roasted birds. Then another. Then another.

Toivo stared.

"You realize those are decorative."

Gret shrugged.

"Not anymore."

For several moments he ate peacefully.

Then finally spoke.

"You look miserable."

Toivo groaned.

"Is it that obvious?"

"To everyone except Moon."

That somehow made things worse.

Gret chewed thoughtfully.

Then pointed across the hall.

"Look."

Reluctantly Toivo did.

Moon sat beside the White King. The two looked almost motionless. Like figures carved from marble. Then Moon glanced toward the hall. Toward the crowd. Toward Toivo. Their eyes met. Jet black. Silver for a moment. Then black again. Moon smiled. Small. Gentle. Only for an instant. Yet something inside Toivo immediately calmed. Just a little. Because Moon hadn't smiled at the White King. He had smiled at him. The realization embarrassed him. How pathetic. One smile. And suddenly the world seemed less terrible.

Gret laughed.

"There he is."

Toivo frowned.

"Who?"

"The idiot I know."

Toivo threw a piece of bread at him.

Gret laughed harder.

Yet later that night alone in his room the jealousy returned. Because smiles weren't enough. Not anymore. Moon treated him kindly. Protected him. Believed in him. But Toivo wanted something else. Something terrifying. Something impossible. He wanted Moon to see him. Not as a child. Not as someone to protect. Not as a student. Not as a responsibility. As a man. The realization froze him. Because for the first time he admitted the truth fully. Not even to Gret. Not even to Kev. Not even to himself. Until now. He loved Moon. And for the first time that love hurt. Far more than any wound. Because somewhere within the frozen halls of Everfrost walked a king who possessed centuries of memories Toivo could never share. A king who looked enough like him to make every insecurity worse. A king who had once held Moon's heart. Or perhaps still did.

Outside, snow continued falling across Everfrost. Silent. Endless. And for the first time since meeting Moon beside Silver Lake Toivo hated the past. Because no matter how strong he became he could never change it.

Tower of Thorns Towe of Fangs Volume 4 chapter 20

 

Volume IV  The White King

ARC IV  THE HEART OF WINTER

Chapter 20  The Frost Remembers

The heart of Everfrost lay beneath the citadel. Far below the frozen courts. Far below the crystal halls. Far below the chambers of kings. Deep beneath layers of ancient ice existed a place untouched by time. A place where memory itself had frozen. Moon followed the White King through corridors carved from living crystal. No guards accompanied them. No Frost Reapers. No nobles. No servants. Only silence. The walls glowed softly. Thousands upon thousands of memories slept within the ice. Entire centuries preserved in crystal. Moments stolen from time itself. Laughter. Tears. Victories. Deaths. Love. Regret. The deeper they descended, the colder the world became. Behind them walked Toivo. Gret. Kev. None spoke. Something about this place discouraged conversation. As though raising one's voice might shatter something sacred Eventually they arrived. A vast cavern.  Frozen within the ice stood countless crystal pillars. Each one containing a memory. Each one glowing with faint silver light. The ceiling vanished into darkness above. Ancient frozen stars glittered overhead.

Toivo stared speechlessly.

"What is this place?"

The White King looked around slowly.

"My prison."

The answer surprised everyone.

Kev folded his arms.

"Looks expensive for a prison."

The White King smiled faintly.

"That is because I built it myself."

He walked between the crystal pillars. One by one they illuminated as he passed. Thousands of memories awakening. Thousands of lives preserved. Thousands of moments he could never let go. Moon followed silently. His expression unreadable. Eventually the White King stopped before a single crystal. Unlike the others this one glowed brighter. Warmer. Almost alive. His hand touched its surface gently. The way one might touch a sleeping lover. The crystal responded. Light spread through the cavern. And suddenly the memory appeared. A meadow of yellow flowers and dandelions. Sunlight. Spring. Flowers. Laughter. Toivo recognized it immediately. The same meadow from Moon's dreams. The same forgotten world.

Young Moon sat beneath a tree. His long black hair reflected sunlight like flowing silk. His eyes were black. Not silver. Not divine. Simply black. Warm. Alive. Human. He laughed.

Toivo froze. The sound felt impossible. Not because Moon never smiled. He did. But this laughter belonged to someone entirely different. Carefree. Unburdened. Happy.

The White King's voice became distant.

"I preserved this one."

The memory continued.

Young Nico sat beside Moon. Close. Very close. Neither seemed aware of anyone else. The entire world had narrowed into two people. Moon said something. The memory carried no sound. Whatever it was Nico laughed. Moon immediately laughed too. The kind of laughter that spreads uncontrollably. The kind born from happiness so pure it cannot be contained. The White King watched silently.

His pale eyes never left the memory.

"You asked me once what love felt like."

The question startled Toivo.

The White King wasn't speaking to him.

He was speaking to Moon.

Moon remained silent.

The White King smiled sadly.

"I never answered."

The memory shifted.

Moon and Nico running through fields. Moon sleeping beneath a tree while Nico watched him. Moon laughing. Moon smiling. Moon reaching for his hand. Moon leaning his head against his shoulder. Simple moments. Small moments.

Yet the White King stared at them like treasures beyond value.

"Power is easy."

His voice echoed through the cavern.

"Immortality is easy."

The crystal glowed brighter.

"But love..."

He closed his eyes.

"Love bends all things."

The memory shifted again.

Young Moon smiling. Looking directly at Nico. Trusting him completely.

The White King's voice trembled.

"Love ignores reason."

A pause.

"Love makes fools of kings."

Another pause.

"Love makes gods irrational."

Toivo felt his chest tighten. Because despite everything he understood. More than he wanted to.

The White King continued.

"You stop caring about consequences."

The memory showed Moon reaching toward Nico.

The sunlight made his black hair glow.

His smile contained absolute trust.

Absolute certainty.

Absolute love.

The White King's voice broke.

"You begin believing happiness will last forever."

Silence.

The crystal dimmed slightly. Then for the first time another memory appeared.

Rain. Darkness. A forest. The same memory. The one that always stopped before the truth.

The White King stared at it. Not looking away. Not hiding.

Accepting the pain.

"I remember every second."

The words felt heavier than mountains.

"I remember the rain."

The forest appeared clearer.

"I remember his face."

Young Moon smiled. Still trusting. Still loving. Still believing.

The White King's hands trembled.

"I remember how terrified I was."

Moon looked confused.

Concerned. Trying to help.

The White King's eyes closed.

"And I remember what I did."

The memory shattered. Not revealing the act. Only fragments. Rain. Blood. A wooden stake. Moon falling. Silver eyes widening. Shock. Not anger. Not hatred. Shock. Because the wound had come from someone he loved. The crystal darkened. The cavern became silent. No one moved. No one breathed.

The White King stared into the darkness.

"I thought power mattered."

His voice sounded empty.

"I thought immortality mattered."

Snow drifted through invisible cracks overhead.

"I thought becoming more than human would make everything worth it."

A bitter smile appeared.

"I was wrong."

The cavern echoed softly.

Wrong. Wrong.

Wrong.

The White King laughed once. A hollow sound.

"Do you know what immortality really is?"

Nobody answered.

The White King looked around the frozen memories.

"It is watching spring disappear."

His eyes drifted across the crystal pillars.

"It is surviving every goodbye."

Another pause.

"It is remembering things that no longer exist."

His gaze settled upon Moon.

And for the first time Toivo saw genuine pain.

Not kingly sorrow. Not poetic tragedy. Real pain. The kind that never heals. The White King's voice became almost inaudible. "No spring comes to those trapped in eternal winter."

Moon remained silent.

The White King smiled sadly.

"Power."

He laughed.

"Power is nothing."

His hand rested against the crystal.

"Immortality is nothing."

The memory illuminated Moon's smiling face once more. The boy he had loved. The boy he had betrayed. The boy he had never forgotten.

The White King's eyes glistened.

"There is no throne beautiful enough."

A pause.

"No kingdom grand enough."

Another pause.

"No eternity long enough."

His voice finally broke.

"To justify losing him."

Silence filled the cavern. Even the ice seemed to mourn.

Moon stood motionless. The fairies around him glowed softly. Like distant stars. And for the first time since entering Everfrost Toivo stopped feeling jealous. Because standing before him was not a rival. Not a king. Not a legend. Only a man frozen forever inside the worst moment of his life. A man who had gained immortality. And lost everything worth living for.

Far above them, snow continued falling across Everfrost. Endless. Silent. Beautiful. Like winter itself. A season unable to move forward. Because its heart still waited for a spring that would never return.