The Kingdom of Preservation — Moon
A Strategy Room That Absolutely Failed at Being Private
The outer strategy chamber of the Sanctum of Preservation was sealed by no fewer than twelve divine locks, three preservation sigils, and one extremely expensive privacy ward personally engraved by North Frozenlight himself.
It was, by all reasonable definitions, secure.
Which made what happened next deeply offensive.
North Frozenlight stood beside the frost-carved strategy table, tall and still, hands folded behind his back. A projection of the realm hovered above the table, rendered in pale blue light. Lines marked demonic incursions, corrupted territories, and thin fractures in fate itself places where destiny had gone disturbingly silent.
Lady Noxelle stood opposite him, wings half-unfurled in restrained irritation, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
"The spies are confirmed," she said. "Three among the lesser attendants. One among the archivists. All removed cleanly."
North nodded once. Calm. Composed.
"And Yuria?"
Noxelle grimaced.
"That's where things become… unpleasant."
North lifted his gaze.
"She does not fit," Noxelle continued. "No divine signature. No demonic corruption. No heavenly residue. Her reactions are delayed, but accurate. Like someone who waits to see the ending before responding."
North stared at the projection for a long moment.
"She survived Slumber Pit," he said at last. "That alone breaks probability."
"And yet," Noxelle added carefully, "she shows no attachment to Raka. No devotion. No fear. Only a faint sense of familiarity."
North's eyes narrowed slightly.
"As if she recognizes the narrative," he murmured.
Before Noxelle could respond .
The projection linked to the Elven Kingdom abruptly flared to life.
A child's voice bright, loud, and catastrophically enthusiastic echoed through the chamber.
"I FOUND SISTER KISSING BROTHER RAKA!!!"
The words detonated like a divine-grade curse.
The frost table split cleanly down the middle.
The projection flickered wildly.
Noxelle's wings snapped fully open with a thunderous crack.
North blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"…What," he asked calmly, "was that."
Silence followed.
Then chaos.
While little brother is suffering, big brother is having romance.
Muffled shouting. Something heavy crashing into a wall. Vines slamming repeatedly against stone. A distant, hysterical voice screaming about funerals, eternal vows, and whether murder was technically illegal if committed out of love.
Noxelle turned her head slowly toward a specific part of the projection.
"…Was that Lady Celia?"
"Yes," North replied flatly.
Another voice rang out gentle, melodic, and carrying the unmistakable threat of ecological annihilation.
"NO ONE ELSE IS TOUCHING HIM. EVER."
The chamber temperature dropped sharply.
Noxelle stared.
"…My lord."
North closed his eyes and exhaled.
"So," he said evenly, "Cedar has reached the possessive phase."
"That wasn't a phase," Noxelle replied grimly.
"That was a declaration of territorial sovereignty."
North rubbed his temple.
"This complicates matters."
"You were already concerned about proximity between Yuria and Raka," Noxelle said. "Now imagine explaining this situation to Aunty Elsa."
North pictured it.
Cedar smiling sweetly.
Vines creeping up the walls.
A calm voice explaining why the concept of 'shared custody' offended nature itself.
And explaining that to his mother what happened to Raka after Cedar arrived.
He immediately stopped imagining it.
"…Yuria stays where she is," North decided. "Under observation. No direct contact with Raka."
"And Cedar?" Noxelle asked carefully.
North opened his eyes, frost-blue and tired.
"We do not provoke the Goddess of Nature when she is in love."
From the corridor, Celia's voice echoed again somehow louder than before.
"I'M TELLING MOTHER TOO!!!"
Noxelle pinched the bridge of her nose.
"…My lord," she said sincerely. "We are doomed."
North allowed himself the faintest, most exhausted smile.
"Not yet," he replied.
But deep within the frozen sanctum.
Even the God of Preservation felt the future shift, creaking like ice about to break.
---
Yuria's Resolve.
What the World Was Never Meant to Notice
I died once.
A truck ,A moment of carelessness and Darkness.
Wanting to go back would be suicide.
If I want to survive if I want to live in this worldI must move forward.
Carefully.
Quietly.
Close enough to warmth to avoid freezing, but not so close that I burn.
Raka Frozenlight was meant to die.
Or North Frozenlight was.
In the original flow of the story, one of them had to fall. The narrative demanded it.
If Raka died, the Elven Kingdom would fracture. Power would shift to the Angel families. Cedar Puregreen burdened by the Curse of Obsession would walk the same path as the First Goddess of Nature.
That goddess had taken her own life when her lover perished. From her death, and an oath sworn with the Supreme Gods, the World Tree was born nourished by a fragment of the Creator's will. It fed the world, protected it from famine, and shielded mortals from divine overreach.
That oath was never revealed.
The author never finished the story.
If North had died instead, Raka would have been forced into marriage. To produce an heir capable of bearing the Essence of Ice. Gods cannot have children at will. Elves require decades. Without North's will, the Frozenlight household would collapse within five years when the Demonic Gods inevitably grew bolder.
No one could break North's seals once he fully merged with his divinity.
Not Cedar.
Not the Supreme Gods.
But now
Raka lives corrupted.
North lives altered.
And I exist.
That alone is the greatest deviation.
The next event approaches.
North Frozenlight's Full Ascension Ceremony.
The Devourer will stain the moon blood red. North will awaken the complete Essence of Ice.
And when he does ,He will lose his sense of pain.
Then his emotions.
He will become what the world demands , an unfeeling shield, bearing everything alone until he breaks.
I won't allow that future.
I don't love Raka.
What I feel toward him is familiarity like recognizing a character from a book I once read too many times.
Maybe because of the creator's will.
They no longer characters in story but living beings.
They can laugh.
They can cry.
They can fell lonely.
They can share their stories.
They can share love and joy.
But North.
North is the axis of this world.
If he falls, everything collapses.
So I will train.
I will learn to bend the Blessing of the Creator without exposing it.
I will become useful. Indispensable.
And when the time comes, I will guide him toward a future where a god can still feel.
Where preservation does not mean isolation.
Where ice does not have to be alone.
And no one
Not gods.
Not demons.
Not fate itself.
Will ever realize how I knew what was coming.