The gates of Raventhorn Castle loomed ahead, massive and foreboding. Twisted iron adorned with arcane runes barred the way, glowing faintly in the dim light. As Kael raised his hand, the runes flickered brighter, responding to his silent command. The gates groaned open, revealing a cobblestone courtyard encased in shadow.

Elara shivered as they passed through. The cold here was different—penetrating and alive, as though the air held secrets too heavy to bear. Beyond the courtyard, the castle towered, its dark stone walls adorned with creeping ivy that looked more like veins than plants.

Kael dismounted with practised ease, then turned to help Elara from the saddle. She hesitated before taking his hand, his touch steadying her as she landed on the frozen ground. Lyria followed closely, her nervous glances taking in every corner of the forbidding structure.

“Welcome to Raventhorn,” Kael said, his tone neutral but edged with something Elara couldn’t place. “It’s not as unwelcoming as it seems.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “I’ll reserve judgment.”

Kael’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement before he turned to a waiting steward, an older man with a gaunt face and a stiff demeanour. “Edric, see to the guards and Lady Elara’s retinue. Ensure her chambers are prepared.”

Edric bowed deeply. “Of course, Your Grace.”

As the steward moved to carry out his orders, Kael gestured for Elara to follow him. “There’s much to discuss, but first, you need rest. Come.”

Elara fell into step beside him, her nerves fraying with each step. The castle's interior was as dark as its exterior, though the faint glow of sconces lit the corridors with a cold, blue light. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of battle and sorcery, the figures seeming to shift when viewed from the corner of one’s eye.

“This place feels alive,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” Kael replied. “The castle is bound to my bloodline. It recognizes me—and now, you.”

Elara stopped mid-step, her gaze snapping to him. “What do you mean?”

Kael paused, turning to face her fully. His silver eyes glinted in the dim light. “Raventhorn is no ordinary keep. It is steeped in magic, built on a nexus of ley lines. The castle reacts to those with power, and you have plenty of it.”

Her chest tightened at his words. “You’ve known about my magic all along.”

“I had my suspicions,” he admitted. “The marriage was as much about protecting House Aedryn as it was about bringing your power here. You’re more valuable than you realize, Elara.”

“Valuable?” she repeated, her voice rising. “Is that all I am to you? A tool?”

Kael’s gaze hardened. “No. But you must understand, the North is not like the South. Here, power is survival. You’ll see that soon enough.”

Before she could respond, Kael resumed walking, his stride purposeful. Elara followed reluctantly, her mind swirling with questions. What did he mean by “bringing her power here”? And what role did he expect her to play in this strange, enchanted castle?

They reached a set of heavy oak doors, intricately carved with symbols that glowed faintly as Kael approached. He pushed them open, revealing a chamber far more luxurious than she had expected. A grand canopy bed dominated the room, its dark velvet drapes trimmed with silver. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm light over the polished wooden floors and gilded furniture.

“This will be your chamber,” Kael said. “Edric will see to your needs. Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll speak of what comes next.”

Elara crossed the threshold, her eyes scanning the room. It was beautiful, but it felt more like a gilded cage than a sanctuary. She turned to Kael, her expression guarded. “What does come next?”

His gaze lingered on her, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. “For now, survival. Beyond that… we shall see.”

Before she could press him further, he bowed slightly and left, the doors closing behind him with an echoing thud. Elara exhaled sharply, the weight of the day pressing down on her. Lyria appeared moments later, bustling into the room to ensure her comfort, but Elara waved her off, needing time to think.

As she stood by the window, gazing out at the frost-covered landscape, a soft hum reached her ears. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably magical. She turned sharply, scanning the room. There, above the fireplace, a mirror glimmered with a faint light.

Cautiously, she approached, the hum growing louder. The mirror’s surface rippled like water, and a shadowy figure began to take shape. Elara’s breath hitched as the image solidified—a woman with eyes as piercing as Kael’s and a voice that sent a chill down her spine.

“Welcome, child,” the figure said. “You’ve stepped into a world far darker than you can imagine. But perhaps… you’re exactly what this place needs.”

The figure vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the mirror smooth and still. Elara’s heart raced as she backed away, her magic stirring uneasily in her chest. Whatever Raventhorn held, it was far more dangerous—and far more alive—than she had been led to believe.