Morning broke over the outer estate with a pale, cold light that washed the stone walls in silver.
Frost clung to the edges of the courtyard like thin white scars, and the wind carried the quiet bite of northern winter.
Smoke drifted faintly from the chimneys of the barracks and training halls, curling upward as the sun fought to rise over the rigid, disciplined world Jude had called home for the last two years.
Inside his room, Jude finished packing the last of his belongings—a few sets of training clothes, a spare cloak, a worn-out practice manual, and a handful of plain necessities.
There wasn't much to take; life in the outer estate did not allow attachments. Everything here had been built on repetition, discipline, and survival. Simplicity was a rule, and Jude had followed it without complaint.
From his shadow, Abaddon's dry voice drifted upward. "You are all set, kid."
Jude paused, looking around the small stone room one last time. The bed was plain and narrow, the desk barely large enough to hold a lamp and a book, and the window was nothing more than a slit letting in a blade of cold morning air. Yet the sight tugged at something inside him.
"I'm really going to miss this place," he murmured.
Then, softer—almost to himself, "The quiet, that is."
A knock sounded at the door. Jude turned.
A guard stood outside, his breath visible in the cold. "Young master Jude. It is time."
Jude slipped on his gloves and pulled his thick, dark coat tighter around himself. The material was heavy and stiff—standard issue for the winter months in the Avernus outer grounds.
He stepped out into the crisp air.
The path leading toward the front gate was covered in a thin sheet of snow, the footprints of morning patrols carving neat lines along the ground.The entire estate seemed to be watching him leave—silent, cold, unchanging.
Near the gate, a carriage waited, its black frame polished to a soft sheen despite the frost gathering along the edges. Two horses stamped lightly against the cold, their breaths forming white clouds. And beside the carriage stood a woman Jude immediately recognized.
Brenna.
Her brown hair curled slightly at the ends, framing a slim face with dark, gentle eyes. She wore thick gloves and a fur-lined coat over her maid's uniform, though even bundled up, there was an elegance to her posture—precise, clean, familiar.
She looked a little older than he remembered, her late twenties catching up in the faint tiredness under her eyes, but her smile lit up the entire gate.
"Young master!" Brenna exclaimed.
Before Jude could respond, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace—warm, full of emotion, completely ignoring the cold formality expected of servants of House Avernus.
Jude hugged her back without hesitation.
"You look terrible," Brenna said immediately, pulling back to examine him with worry deepening her voice. "You don't look healthy at all, and you've gotten so slim."
Jude raised a hand. "I'm fine, Brenna. Truly. I really am."
She exhaled slowly, forcing her concern into a more composed expression. With practiced elegance, she straightened her coat, stood upright, and adopted proper posture—hands clasped in front, eyes steady.
"Then let us go home, young master," she said warmly.
Two knights approached as they made their way toward the carriage. Both wore full black armor—polished, seamless plates shaped for movement. The knight in front gave a short bow. He wasn't tall, but his stance was sharp and firm, and his short yellow hair stood out under the rim of his helmet.
"Greetings, young master," he said. "We have been assigned to escort you to the main estate."
Jude simply nodded in acknowledgment.
He and Brenna entered the carriage, the door closing softly behind them. The interior was surprisingly warm—thick carpets, red-patterned walls, and cushioned seats that absorbed the cold from his coat. It was an immediate contrast to the stark stone rooms he had lived in for years.
Outside, four knights mounted their horses—two at the front, two behind.
"Move," the lead knight commanded.
The carriage began to roll forward, wheels crunching softly over snow. They passed through the gates of the outer estate, leaving behind the familiar walls and training fields. The open road stretched ahead, blanketed in fresh snow that glittered under the morning light.
Inside the carriage, Brenna sat across from Jude, her eyes scanning him carefully as if confirming his earlier assurances.
She smiled lightly. "Young master, would you care for some cookies?"
Jude's head lifted slightly. "Yes. I would love to."
Brenna opened her travel bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped roll of cookies. The scent of butter and honey filled the carriage as she unwrapped them. She held them out toward Jude with both hands.
"Young master."
Jude eyed them for half a second before taking two. "Thank you."
He took a bite—warm, soft, perfect—and then stuffed the rest of the first cookie into his mouth without hesitation.
"Slow down, young master," Brenna chided gently.
Jude swallowed and let a small smile form. "Your cookies are still as good as I remember."
Her cheeks flushed with quiet pride. "Thank you."
From the shadows under Jude's seat, Abaddon's voice whispered, amused. "Is it really that good?"
When Brenna looked toward the window, Jude discreetly dropped a small piece of cookie into his shadow. The darkness rippled and swallowed it whole.
A second later, Abaddon's muffled voice burst out—
"By the abyss—what is this flavor? Is this what heaven tastes like? I think I'm in love!"
Jude hid a smirk. Brenna looked back at him, confused by his expression.
"Something wrong, young master?"
"Nothing," Jude said calmly. "Everything's fine."
The carriage continued forward, wheels cutting through snow as Jude left behind the harsh, cold training grounds—and headed toward the main estate of House Avernus.