Morning arrived quietly at the Ice Blue Palace.
Not with warmth, not with golden rays slipping past silk curtains the way it did in Golden Bloom Palace — but with a muted, pale light that spread across the frost-tinged tiles like an uninvited guest. The palace did not greet dawn, nor did it resist it; it merely accepted it, the same way it accepted everything else: silently.
Azura rose from her bed without ceremony.
She moved the way a human would — but a human who calculated, unconsciously, each placement of her foot, each shift of her weight, each inhale timed without realizing it. The servants always whispered that she walked as if she emerged from thin air. Ridiculous, really — she simply didn't drag her feet or slam her heels like the rest of them.
She dressed with the same efficiency: a simple muted robe, dark as ink, fastened neatly over her shoulders. She tied her hair back; a few strands slipped forward, but she didn't bother tucking them behind her ear. They would fall again anyway.
A knock sounded outside her door.
Three light taps — hesitant.
Then two more — confirming they had not imagined hearing her stir.
Azura sighed inwardly.
The morning troupe.
When she opened the door, the maids straightened so quickly that the hems of their skirts rustled against the floor. Their eyes flickered — not with fear, not with reverence, but with something in-between. A strange tension, like people unsure whether they were facing something harmless or something sleeping with its eyes open.
"Y-Your Highness," the head maid said with a tight bow.
The others followed — stiff, shallow bows as if one wrong angle might offend her. Azura watched them silently. She had grown used to this since childhood — the way they treated her not cruelly, not warmly, but as though she was a cold ghost passing through the palace halls.
Not dangerous like she would eat them alive, not frightening — but unsettling, unpredictable.
It was amusing, in a strange, detached way. She looked nothing like a ghost. And she certainly wasn't floating.
"Prepare the carriage," Azura said simply, her voice flat but not harsh. "I am visiting the Imperial Library."
The maids exchanged glances.
One whispered — far too audibly:
"She's leaving the palace?"
"Today again?"
"But why—"
"Shhh! She'll hear!"
Azura did hear. Obviously.
Her brow twitched by the smallest fraction — not irritation, more like a silent internal sigh at humanity's failure to grasp that whispering in a hallway carried farther than speaking normally.
They scattered to fulfill her request, their steps quick but cautious, like animals skirting the edge of a frozen pond.
Azura walked through the corridor at her usual pace. Straight, balanced, minimal movement. Not because she practiced. Not because she tried to appear regal. She simply disliked wasted motion.
The Ice Blue Palace was quiet, its long halls lined with cool marble and muted tapestries. There was no warmth like Golden Bloom's gilded décor, no scent of budding flowers or polished gold. But Azura found the emptiness comfortable.
Where others saw loneliness, she saw clarity.
Where others saw cold, she saw stillness.
Besides, she thought dryly, it's not like warmth and chatter have ever done me any favors.
At the entrance, the carriage waited — a plain, dignified vehicle drawn by two silver-coated horses. The driver bowed nervously, opening the door as if terrified she might pass through the wood.
Azura stepped inside and sat, resting her chin lightly against her hand as the carriage began to move.
…
The Dentica Empire morning unfolded outside her window — vendors setting up stalls, guards patrolling the streets, children running between pillars with far too much chaotic enthusiasm. She watched them distantly, absorbing the details without emotion.
Chaotic noise, loud voices, rapid footsteps — it all blended together.
How do people live like that?
She wondered, not in contempt but in genuine confusion.
The carriage rumbled past the main market street toward the mountain-facing district where the Imperial Library stood — a towering white building carved with ancient runes and protected by high crystal windows.
Azura leaned back. Her mind drifted.
Not aimlessly — she was incapable of that.
Her thoughts moved in precise, logical spirals.
The dream, the mountain, the frozen peak carved into her memory — the Ice Devil Mountain.
She had no reason to remember it. No story, no tale, no tutor had ever spoken of it. Yet her dream presented it vividly.
Jagged peaks, whistling winds, a feeling of… calling?
Ridiculous.
Dreams were subconscious noise — reflections of stored images and buried impressions. She had never seen a mountain resembling that shape. And yet — her fingers tapped the carriage wall lightly.
If it was only a dream… why does it feel like a memory?
She narrowed her eyes.
Or a warning.
Or a reminder.
Or — her favorite hypothesis —
her subconscious playing games with her for the first time in her life.
How thrilling, she thought dryly. An active imagination. Just what I needed.
But there was something else.
The name "Ice Devil Mountain."
The moment she woke up, the words had lingered with a weight that felt… inconvenient. Familiar, even. As if her mind had been storing the name in a locked drawer, only now deciding to reopen it.
Curiosity was one thing; verifying it was another. That was why she was going to the library. To confirm the simplest explanation:
Either the place existed…
or her mind had fabricated it from fragments.
Both were acceptable outcomes.
She tilted her head slightly.
But if it did exist…
why had she never heard of it?
Her world knowledge — she realized this morning — was embarrassingly limited.
A princess she may be, but her upbringing in the Ice Blue Palace had been isolated, sheltered, devoid of worldly travel. She knew Dentica's core regions, central policies, and palace politics — but geography? The detailed map of the empire beyond its borders?
She had only learned the basics.
Because those basics were all she had ever been offered.
She exhaled through her nose.
So… my education resembles a palace window clear only in the center, blurry everywhere else. How reassuring.
The carriage halted before the marble steps.
Servants, librarians, and scholars were already bustling in and out. Upon seeing her, the atmosphere shifted subtly — voices lowered, movement slowed, even the air seemed to hold itself differently.
Azura pretended not to notice. Pretended — not because she cared about image, but because acknowledging human reactions consumed unnecessary mental energy.
As she walked up the steps, a few maids assisting scholars paused mid-whisper.
"…That's the Ice Blue Princess—"
"She's so quiet—"
"Why is she here alone? Did something happen—"
"Shh! Don't look at her directly—"
"Why, do you think she'll freeze you—?"
"Do you WANT to die?!"
Azura closed her eyes briefly.
Remarkable. The human ability to create rumors in real time is truly unmatched.
She stepped inside.
The librarian on duty nearly dropped the scroll she was carrying. Her eyes widened, then she bowed with exaggerated care.
"Y-Your Highness! W-Welcome."
"I am here to look at the world map," Azura said straightforwardly.
The librarian blinked as if she expected a riddle instead. Then nodded furiously.
"O-Of course! This way, Your Highness!"
Azura followed her at a measured pace, hands loosely clasped behind her. Not rigid — just comfortable. People misinterpreted the pose as military discipline or eerie composure. In reality, it simply allowed her to walk without worrying about what to do with her hands.
The librarian led her to the Geographical Records Wing, a tall room with shelves stacked from floor to ceiling, each labeled with empire names, old boundaries, seas, ruined kingdoms.
"You may browse freely, Princess," the librarian said nervously. "If you require anything, I shall be nearby."
Azura nodded.
The librarian bowed again and fled.
…
Azura approached the large world map table — a wide oak structure bearing a detailed parchment pinned neatly across its surface.
She leaned slightly over it.
Dentica Empire at the center, vast and curved like a fortified heart between worlds.
To the northwest: the Viranor Empire.
North: Aeruleaf Forest spreading like dark veins.
And above that—
Her breath stilled.
There it was.
Ice Devil Mountain.
Marked clearly, boldly, and casually. As if it had always existed and there was nothing remarkable about its presence.
Azura's lips parted a fraction.
So it's real.
Not a dream, but a reality.
Unfolded naturally in front of her — and with it, curiosity.
She pressed her fingertips lightly above the map — not touching the words, but hovering just above them.
But why do I remember a place I have never visited?
Memory?
No.
Dream influence?
Possible.
Instinct?
Unlikely.
Fate?
Ridiculous.
She examined the surrounding regions — checking borders, terrain, distances. The mountain rested north of Dentica, hugging the edge of Aeruleaf Forest like a frozen scar.
Too close, she thought.
Too close to be unknown, and too close to be omitted from her education.
So why had no one ever mentioned it?
Her mind moved faster now — sharper, layering possibilities with practiced precision:
Geographically insignificant?
No — the map's bold ink implied otherwise.
Its history taboo or tragic?
Possible. Palaces loved secrecy.
Her tutors intentionally avoided it?
Also possible.
She had seen the name once as a child and forgotten consciously but not subconsciously?
Unlikely… but not impossible.
She tapped the map lightly.
Memory is a strange creature. Maybe mine decided to surprise me.
Then her internal voice — the dry, mocking one she rarely allowed to speak — chimed in:
Or perhaps I'm finally losing it. Charming.
Azura's lips curved slightly.
Not a smile — but amusement at her own thoughts.
She traced the rest of the world briefly:
The Abyssal Maw Sea to the west — churning, chaotic.
The Kharasi Desert — harsh and ancient.
The Saffronwave Sea — dotted with the Thousand Isles.
The Forsaken Land to the east — a territory whose name practically begged people not to visit.
The Heart of Thorns — a labyrinth of wild brambles.
She absorbed all of it quietly.
The map made her inner world expand — not emotionally but rationally. Like a door in her mind had been cracked open, revealing a space she never realized she was missing.
So much I wasn't taught.
So much I wasn't aware of in this world.
The thought wasn't bitter.
Simply factual.
Yet there are still things to be learned.
But facts could be revealing.
If the palace wanted me ignorant of the world… why?
A chill traveled up her spine — not supernatural, not dramatic. A cold line drawn by logic.
She straightened.
"Ice Devil Mountain…" she whispered.
This time, the name felt heavier.
Not threatening, not divine.
Just… important.
She let the silence linger — until soft voices rose from behind a shelf.
"Is she… staring at the map?"
"What is she looking for?"
"Maybe she wants to see the empire she'll never visit…"
"That's cruel—"
"No, I mean—she's always been kept inside—"
"Shh!"
Azura didn't turn to witness the amusing gossip about her; it was already interesting enough to hear it from afar.
She simply inhaled slowly.
Humans fear what they don't understand, she mused.
So they explain it with nonsense.
She looked at the mountain name one last time.
It was almost too real to be ignored, and too suspicious to be a mere coincidence.
Her question now shifted to something else:
Why did it appear in my dream now?
Coincidence?
But it's too unnatural for that.
And Azura had always distrusted coincidences.
They were terribly unreliable companions.
She stepped back from the map.
Not hurried or shaken by these unnatural things — just simply… thoughtful.
If this mountain existed — and her dream pointed her toward it — then there was a connection somewhere. Logical or illogical, she would eventually find it.
A thread had appeared.
And Azura had always been good at following threads.
She turned, her robe shifting with quiet elegance, and walked toward the exit. Her steps remained the same as always — normal, human, grounded — yet too light, too balanced, too quiet.
Enough to make the nearest scholar flinch when she passed.
As she descended the marble stairs, her thoughts spiraled again — controlled, crystalline, precise:
Dreams are not prophecies.
Memories do not fabricate themselves entirely.
Unlearned knowledge does not appear for no reason.
Three simple truths.
Which left her with a fourth possibility:
Something in me remembers that mountain.
Even if I do not.
She paused at the last step.
A soft breeze brushed her cheek — cold and sharp, almost familiar. Azura lifted her gaze.
Far away — beyond the bustling city, beyond the palace roofs, beyond the morning haze — the faint suggestion of northern mountains rose like jagged teeth.
Ice Devil Mountain was too distant to see from here, but Azura imagined its outline anyway.
Her crimson eyes narrowed. Then, calmly, almost indifferently, she said to herself:
"…I should visit it someday."
Not today or tomorrow — but someday in the future, at the right moment. Because she hated unanswered questions.
And that mountain — engraved in dreams and ink alike — had just become one.