Celestine Laffele.
A young, beautiful girl who lived in a village in the northern part of the continent.
The village was large—larger than most would expect for a place buried beneath snow half the year.
Wooden houses stood strong against the wind, roofs thick with frost, chimneys constantly breathing out thin trails of smoke.
Life here wasn't easy.
But the people were.
Tough. Rigid. Used to hardship.
And yet they smiled often.
Maybe because when you live in a place where the cold never truly leaves, warmth between people matters more.
"…Once again I'm living another's life…"
Snow murmured under her breath.
She sat by the window of what was now her room, a neatly opened magic book resting on the desk in front of her.
One small hand supported her cheek as she stared outside, her expression distant.
The glass was slightly frosted at the corners, but she could see clearly enough.
Children about her age were playing in the snow.
Laughing.
Running.
