Corrin's favorite part of the day always came after breakfast. After eating a light meal, the three of them would head outside the city to train in the snow. While Kei ran, he and Wyn would spar and work together, just as they had for years.

As the days went by, their duels grew closer and closer once more, as the immediate benefits of Wyn gaining channels outweighed Corrin's gains in his mantle—which he didn't use in their duels anyways, as it would no longer be a test of skill.

Kei, too, was progressing. Soon enough, they moved on from the very basics of footwork and punching, to using a sword. Other weapons had been considered. At first, a bow, but Kei struggled with the draw force. Wyn had argued that a spear would have been better, and Corrin agreed, but neither wanted to buy one, Kei didn't want to carry one, and eventually it was decided that they'd just teach her the basics of fencing anyways, which she was at least familiar with since her brother was a duelist in the capital, and used a sword himself. Of course, that gave her a whole new thing to complain about.

"Damn blisters…" Kei mumbled as she inspected her hands after their session one day.

Wyn laughed. "Remember when we started Corrin?"

"Man, I remember that one day it was so bad we couldn't close our hands."

"That's right! And we had a test didn't we?"

"Yeah yeah! Wow, that takes me back…"

Kei looked between the two of them. "Yeah, I'm not planning on working that hard."

Corrin hummed. "It's probably worse because of the carving, that's not easy on your hands either."

"Bandage them up when we get back," Wyn said. "I think Jolaine has some medicinal salve in the cabinet above the hearth."

Corrin's stomach rumbled loudly.

Kei laughed. "Lunch first?"

"Now we're talking."

***

They tended to split ways after lunch. Wyn would make his way back to the home for Lilian's treatments, while Kei would help Jolaine with her stall.

Corrin's training, however, continued.

Corrin swung his sword in the snow, day after day, focusing his aura into each one. A thousand strikes, ten thousand strikes, twenty thousand. He breathed out, drawing more into his mantle, and struck. His mantle stretched higher up his body, from his stomach, to his chest, to his neck. Each day, he melted a circle into the snow as it grew stronger, and each day, that circle grew a little larger. Slowly but surely, he could feel his power growing. Each aspect of his channeling, from his capacity, to his control, to the speed at which it flowed increased as he trained more and more.

But today wasn't about the blade. No, today was the day he finally got it. His waster sat propped up against a tree nearby, and Corrin stood in a loose, natural stance as he began to breathe.

A comet of black and white trailed out from his lips, sliding across his chest, then down his arm. It spun around his hand faster and faster before shooting back up over his shoulder and into the other. Only a few months ago, such a thing would have seemed impossible to him, but his control had grown by leaps and bounds. With such a small amount of mana, the leakage was almost non-existent, and even with more, the rate at which he could intake outweighed it by far.

Of course, that was when he wasn't already full. But right now, his body was bursting with power, already at its limit, so each breath only served to top him back off. Even with half the mana in his mantle, his upper limit remained the same, so with half the mana in his mantle, he could only half-reinforce his body.

A tricky limitation, he thought as he drained more into his mantle. If I use more mana in techniques and mantling, I lose power and speed. But if I sacrifice too much strengthening my body, my techniques won't be able to break through tougher defenses.

That didn't matter much yet, but he suspected it would matter more and more against other channelers. He'd sparred a few other adventurers, but the fights tended to be one sided either way. Those who lacked advanced techniques tended to have less developed channels and less aura than him, but most above him seemed to be in a different world of power. Battles between gold rank, or even high silver rank adventurers were far beyond him.

Wyn needs to get his channels finished, I need my sparring partner back.

He shook extra thoughts from his head, he needed to focus.

With each breath the mantle grew. It wasn't about practicality yet, it wasn't about battle. It was about an accomplishment. The battle with the winter wraith had impressed on him a gap that he could close, and he'd worked himself like a dog to do so.

The mana in his mantle steamed off of him, even as he stretched it thinner and thinner, but months of training hadn't been for nothing. He held firm as more ash covered his body, stretching up from his feet, wrapping around his arms, his stomach, his chest, his neck.

Corrin pushed. Or maybe it was more of a pull, thinning the aura as much as he could, stretching it further. It was thin now, hardly more than a sheet of paper between him and the outside. Below him, a circle had once more melted into the snow, almost ten feet across.

But finally, his body was fully encased in ash.

Corrin grinned.

***

After training, he would go to meet with his master, eating countless bowls of fiery phofi, each one hotter than the last in exchange for lessons. He didn't go there every day, but he still went pretty frequently. The old man—who's name he still didn't know—had warmed up to him as much as Corrin expected he would, and he actually went out of his way to teach Corrin things he didn't ask. Oddly, it seemed that the stall had gotten more popular since they'd arrived in the city, especially with younger women, who would show up around lunch when he and Wyn went to eat there.

But when Corrin arrived, some time before the dinner rush, the stall was empty.

He ducked under the awning, taking in the scent of the rich aroma bubbling up from the pot behind the counter.

"Freshie," the man greeted him casually.

Corrin placed a copper coin on the wood.

"The usual?"

He shot the old man a glare and slipped behind the counter, grabbing a bowl from the rack. "I'll make my own today, thanks."

"Walking in like you own the place…" The man grumbled, but he didn't stop him.

Ignoring him, Corrin ladled out a portion from the pot into his bowl, adding just a pinch more heat to it. It wasn't nearly as much as his master put in to torture him, but just enough to get his eyes watering and his nose cleared up—which Corrin had strangely grown to enjoy.

He plopped back down on one of the stools and shoveled the stew into his mouth.

"You know," the old man said with a smirk. "I've heard spicy food is bad after training. Are you sure you should be eating that?"

Corrin set down the spoon, and jabbed a finger at him, talking with his mouth still partially full. "I don't want to hear that from you! You're the one always trying to kill me!"

The man laughed heartily as he chopped at some vegetables. "And yet you keep coming back."

"Yeah well, I'm not going to be able to have this again pretty soon." Corrin took another bite. Their departure from Titan's Pass was less than a week away now. "I've got to enjoy it while I can."

The man's hands paused. "That time already huh? As I get older, the years seem to go by faster and faster. I look away for a second and my daughter's getting married to some chef at one of these fancy new restaurants popping up around here."

"You have a daughter?" Corrin frowned. "Wait… do you have a wife?"

The man looked at him smugly. "Of course I do. I know I'm old now but I'll have you know I was quite the looker back in the day. Plus I can cook, and here's some free advice, the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach."

"Isn't it a man's heart?"

"Man, woman, doesn't matter. Everybody eats don't they?"

Corrin opened his mouth to respond, but paused. He couldn't really argue with that. Still, it was a bit shocking to find out the man… well, existed outside of his cooking. It was a dumb thought, but Corrin had never pictured it before. In his head the man slept on a bed of bread and bathed in phofi.

In comfortable silence, Corrin finished his bowl. The plaza behind him was starting to get louder as people wandered in.

"Need help with the dinner rush?"

"No, but you're welcome to."

Corrin nodded and took his spot behind the counter as a customer showed up to the counter.

The thing about phofi was, there wasn't actually that much to do most of the time. Even as it had gotten more popular, the stall was still relatively slow, and so it took a while for the pot to dwindle low enough to justify making more.

In the meantime, he and the old man entertained the guests, telling stories to the kids that came to hear Corrin talk about the colossus, giving spicy bowls to young men and women who wanted to test themselves against his master's spicy bowls, and catching up with the other regulars, most of whom had been coming for years.

When it grew low enough, Corrin would dice the meat, chop vegetables, and cook them all together before mixing them into the pot to simmer. Occasionally, his master would chime in with some advice, or make an adjustment, but he seemed content to let Corrin handle most of the work, only stepping in to add the powdered spice blend, or fix any issues.

When the line finally thinned, and the sky finally dimmed, Corrin wiped his hands on his apron and stretched while he grinned.

"Not a bad night to go out on," he said. "But that's enough for me."

He started packing his things, reaching for his coat—when the man slid a fresh bowl across the counter.

Corrin recognized the red powder atop the stew, bright and angry.

"No," Corrin said.

"Yes," countered his master.

Corrin stared at it. "And why the hell should I?"

"Because I've got one thing left for you," the man crossed his arms, a faint smile playing on his lips. "If you're brave enough for one last bowl."

Corrin met the man's eyes, looking for any sign of a lie, but he didn't see any. He clicked his tongue and sat back down. Not only did he want whatever final lesson the man was going to give him, he didn't want to lose.

The first bite hit him instantly. No build up as his mouth bloomed with fire, and only built from there.

"I hate you…" he choked, swallowing anyways.

The man smiled. "You say that every time."

Corrin kept going, spoon after spoon. Face red, sweat pouring, he shoved it into his mouth. Even after all the bowls he'd eaten, he'd still only built up a minor tolerance.

But eventually, the bowl was empty.

Corrin slumped back against his chair, groaning and sucking in the fresh air in between gulps of water.

As always, his master just laughed. "Well, I'd never let it be said you lack grit."

"Just give me the damn lesson," Corrin complained. "Let's end this off right."

The man turned to the spice rack and grabbed the jar filled with his secret spice blend. Then, from his pocket, he pulled a small piece of paper, folded in half. He set both on the counter.

"Consider it a gift."

Corrin opened up the piece of paper, and his eyes widened.

"Is this—?"

"I don't expect you'll be back anytime soon," the man said. "So it's not like you'll be competition."

Corrin stared at the paper for a moment longer, then his face broke into a grin. He jumped out of his chair, dancing with excitement. "Yes! I am winning today! I did it, I did it, the recipe is mine!"

He sang a dumb off-key celebration before suddenly stopping. He took a step back, turned, and met the man's eyes. Then, he gave a deep, full bow.

"Thank you, master."

The man shook his head, but chuckled under his breath. "I'm still not your damn master, kid."

"Sure," Corrin laughed. "Whatever you say."

He finished gathering his things, spice and recipe included, and started towards the alley that led back towards Jolaine's. As a soft wind blew through the narrow street into the plaza, he stopped one last time at the edge.

"Hey master," he said, glancing back.

"What is it?"

"You look a little happier cooking nowadays."

The man didn't stop to look up from the pot he was stirring slowly. But Corrin saw his hand pause for just a moment.

"Is that so? Must be because I'm finally getting my peace and quiet back. Good luck in Taravast, Freshie."

Corrin turned back around, holding his hand up and waving it once as he walked off.

He never did learn the man's name.

***

"Ready?" Wyn asked, holding out his hands. The action had become familiar, they'd repeated it each day for the last month. The snow had grown thinner as the days had grown longer and warmer. The end of the deep winter was right around the corner, and with it, their departure from Titan's Pass. But before he left, Wyn was determined to accomplish one last thing.

"Of course." Lilian nodded, and placed her hands in his.

Wyn closed his eyes, and the bond formed.

Since the night of the festival, the weight from Lilian's illness had grown lighter with each day, and he could tell it was on its last limbs. If left to fester, it would likely return to the point it had already reached. He had to burn it out completely, until not a trace remained.

Lilian sighed deeply as her eyes began to glow purple, and Wyn took her burden once more.

It was lighter than it had ever been, so light in fact, that he could feel it diminishing with each moment. He pushed against it, and for the first time, he actually felt as it started to give.

His eyes opened in surprise, and the bond wavered for a moment, then snapped as he lost his concentration.

"What is it?" Lilian asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Wyn couldn't help but smile. "It's going. I can feel it. Today is the day, Lilian."

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For a moment, she didn't react at all, almost as if she hadn't heard him. Then, her eyes widened slightly as she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She held up her hands and looked at them as if to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

A single, small laugh escaped her lips. Then it grew, strong and loud—the kind of laughter that would've sent her into a coughing fit only a month prior. She pushed herself up off the bed, taking Wyn by the hand and dragging him into the hallway.

"Grandmother!" she shouted. "Grandmother!"

She laughed and ran, her voice jubilant as she pulled him into the main room of the home, where Jolaine was already getting to her feet.

"What? What is it, child?"

"Today is the day grandmother! I'm going to be healthy again—completely, blessedly healthy!"

Jolaine's hands went to her lips as her eyes began to water. She pulled the both of them into a hug.

"I…. I don't have words. In eighty years of life, never have I felt so blessed." She stumbled back away from them as her legs failed her and she collapsed into her chair.

Lilian turned back to Wyn, grasping both of his hands. Her eyes were shining as she smiled. "Can we continue, Wyn? Or do you need to rest first?"

"I'm fine," Wyn said, smiling back. "I have it in me to finish it right now."

He closed his eyes, tuning out her excited breaths, the nervous creaking of Jolaine's chair, the roar of the hearth, everything. He formed the bond once more, routine now, and let the flames flow through.

There was resistance, but it faded faster and faster as his blessing burned through it. A drop of sweat dripped from his chin, but he didn't relent. There were no death throes, no sudden sensation—the resistance burned lower and lower, and soon it vanished, spirit fire washing through her body unimpeded.

Wyn opened his eyes slowly, looking into Lilian's hopeful eyes as she gazed back at him.

"Is it done?" she asked. The symptoms had gotten small enough that she couldn't tell so easily.

But Wyn had felt it.

He nodded.

Lilian turned slowly, as Jolaine's eyes ran with tears, and the two embraced. For a moment, it was as though Wyn didn't exist in the world.

But he didn't mind. This was exactly why he'd done it, this was the world he wanted to see. A world where everyone could be together.

He saw their shoulders finally relax, as they set down the worries and fears that had burdened them for so many years.

And as he turned away, not wanting to disturb things, Wyn smiled.

Because finally, the weight was gone.

***

That night, the house was rowdier than it had been since they'd arrived. Laughter spilled from the kitchen, off-key songs swam across the family room, and bad jokes drifted out the window, spilling into the night.

Lilian's cheeks were bright red with exertion, and perhaps some embarrassment as she moved around the room with a clumsy grace none of them had seen before. She spun Kei in a small dance as Corrin beat a rhythm on the side of a pot. Wyn was tired, but he stood off to the side near the fire, arms crossed as he smiled quietly to himself.

She was really healed. Even if he'd been the one to do it, he couldn't believe it.

Jolaine cooked nearly the whole meal herself, slapping Corrin's hand away when he tried to season the soup. "Don't rob an old woman of her celebration," she said with a voice full of stubborn pride.

They ate until they were full, then ate some more. Pot roast, same as when they'd arrived, along with bread and jam, cider, and a cake Wyn had bought from Elder Darby. At some point, Lilian climbed onto the table and made a drunken toast that ended with Corrin falling out of his chair with laughter, and Kei wiping tears from her eyes.

It was one of those rare nights where time lost its grip, somehow both fleeting and never-ending all at once. Eventually though the room grew quieter and quieter. Late in the evening, long after Kei had passed out on the floor, and a little after Corrin followed suit on the table, Wyn found himself stepping outside to get some fresh air, taking a seat on the steps. The sky was full of stars, and the snow along the street sparkled in the moonlight.

He took a deep breath, savoring the air.

The door clicked open behind him, and Jolaine stepped out, standing at the top of the stairs.

"Would you like to join me?" He asked.

"When you get to my age," she said. "Getting up is a trouble, so you have to be careful about sitting down. Though I suppose some youngsters are the same way."

"Is that so?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh don't worry, you two are of a good sort. But keep in mind, if you ever do decide to sit down, make sure you've found a comfortable chair. Don't settle for some steps out in the cold."

"I like the steps sometimes," Wyn countered.

Jolaine chuckled. "To be young…"

"Oh come on," Wyn said. "You're not so old are you?"

She just smiled, and held up a small wooden box, engraved with a leaf. "White sage, my favorite blend. I was going to save it for your last day here, but this day is even more special, isn't it?"

Wyn glanced at the box, polished wood, it was probably expensive.

"Tomorrow then," he said, his voice light. "To celebrate a new start for you and Lilian."

Jolaine's smile remained soft, but it faltered just a touch. "Of course," she said quietly. She tucked the box away and gazed off into the night.

There was a long silence as her eyes wandered distantly over the snow-topped roofs, like she was trying to memorize them exactly as they were.

After a while, Wyn broke it. "Feel's strange that it's over. I spent so much time hoping for a change, and yet I'm surprised it actually came."

Jolaine smiled. "Spring always comes after winter, hope for it or not."

The words sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place them.

"I've always believed in the spirits," Jolaine said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They guide us, even when we don't see it. The three of you… you were meant to come here, it wasn't merely chance. It was a blessing, I think."

Wyn nodded, though inside, he didn't know what he really believed. It was hard to think the spirits had brought them together for such a fleeting moment in the scheme of things. And he knew spirits, was that really something they could even do? He wasn't sure.

Maybe she understood that though, because when their eyes met, she just smiled knowingly.

"Wyn, I only had two fears left in this life," she said. As she spoke, the moonlight caught the edges of her features, making the lines in her face seem deeper, and suddenly she looked much older. "The first was that I would die too soon, and leave Lilian all alone. With her illness, it would be impossible for her to take care of herself, so I couldn't die."

Wyn felt something tighten in his chest.

"But worse than that, was the fear that I'd have to bury her too. But now… now I think I can rest. Thank you."

She turned, pushing the door back open. Her face was soft, almost serene.

"I'm very tired," she said slowly. "I think I'll go to bed."

Wyn followed her in, as if to walk her there, but as she reached the kitchen table and set down the tea box, she just waved him off gently.

"Stay a while," she said. "Keep the fire company for me."

She turned down the hallway, the sound of her footsteps soft against the wood. When her door closed behind her, Wyn sat back down, watching the sparks in the hearth drift up the chimney.

Eventually, Wyn gathered up the other three and took them to their rooms, but instead of retiring as well, he found himself back in front of the flames.

He sat with them in the quiet, until they burned low, and only the embers remained.

***

Wyn woke up the next morning before the sun, smiling lazily as he rolled out of bed. He said his good morning to Eia, and snuck out of the room without waking Corrin. As he made his way down the stairs, he contented himself with thinking about how he would take the day off. He'd heard of a great sledding spot only a mile into the mountains, and why not enjoy it? He hadn't been sledding in years, but it seemed like a great way to celebrate—and Corrin would certainly be interested. Maybe they could make a whole day of it?

As he walked into the kitchen, he noticed that the fire hadn't been started. He was the first one awake. That was a bit unusual, as Jolaine tended to be an even earlier riser than he was, but it made sense. She was probably tired after their celebrations the night before.

Well, might as well get things started then, he decided. It was a lazy day, but starting the fire and putting tea on the stove didn't count.

He found the wooden box Eldress Jolaine had shown him the night before and opened it up. Within a few minutes, the hearth was roaring, and the kettle was heating over the fire. Wyn settled in to read a book.

Some time passed, and Wyn strained the leaves, but left the tea higher above the fire to stay hot—he didn't want to taste it without Jolaine. Eventually Corrin wandered down, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he looked around the room.

"Granny's not up yet? I guess we were all up pretty late last night. You hungry?"

"Of course," Wyn said. "So chop chop, get to it."

Corrin chuckled quietly. "I'll get on it."

He made his way into the kitchen and started making some porridge. He didn't swear or drop anything—Corrin could be quiet if he really wanted to, and soon enough they were both eating from steaming bowls of porridge topped with cinnamon.

They chatted about nothing, and Wyn brought up his sledding idea, which of course, Corrin was more than excited about.

"Ooh, do you think we could stand up on the sleds if we tried? I'd bet we could, right? Just start standing up and go down that way. If we stayed balanced it would totally work!"

"You know," Kei said as she entered from the hallway. "I only heard the last half of whatever you were saying, and I can already tell it's dumb. How is that?"

"No no hang on Kei," Wyn jumped to his friend's defense. "I think this one actually has some merit."

Sometime later, Lilian arrived as well, and all four of them were sitting around the table, eating and laughing as they discussed the plan.

"Spirits… I haven't been sledding since I was a kid, even since before I grew ill. That's a wonderful idea!"

As the morning passed, Lilian eventually grew impatient.

"I'll go wake my grandmother, can you believe she's sleeping the day away on a day like today?"

Wyn laughed. "I'll pour her a cup then, do you want some?"

"Is that white sage?" Lilian eyed the kettle. "She's actually letting you have some? Hurry and pour me some before she can force us to split it. I'm telling you she'll keep it all for herself if she can."

"Sure thing," Wyn grinned.

Lilian walked off, and as even Kei and Corrin found themselves interested in the old woman's favorite tea, Wyn ended up pouring five cups, albeit smaller ones for the two of them. They probably wouldn't appreciate it anyways.

Then they waited.

And waited.

Lilian didn't come back.

"Should we check on them?" Kei asked, eyeing the hallway.

"Yeah what's taking so long?"

Wyn frowned as a sense of uneasiness crept into him.

He got up and took a few steps, seeing Jolaine's open door at the end of the hallway. He walked towards it.

"Lilian?"

When he didn't hear anything back, he sped up. Corrin and Kei followed him as they reached the door and turned into the room.

"Lilian what's taking so—"

He froze only a step past the doorway.

Lilian was kneeling next to the bed, her shoulders shaking silently as she clutched her grandmother's hands.

Jolaine lie still in bed. Her eyes were closed, and her chest… it didn't—

Wyn felt the world start to spin.

No no no…

As Corrin and Kei looked into the bedroom, their footsteps fell silent behind him.

"Wait…"

Corrin's voice was small.

Lilian's head slowly turned, and she met Wyn's eyes as tears ran down her face, dripping to the floor. She didn't say a word.

And Wyn knew.

His legs gave out.

"That's not…" his fingernails caught on the wood, driving splinters into his skin, but he didn't feel it. His vision grew blurry, and he choked back sobs.

"That's not fair…"

All the time, all the effort… after everything he'd done to grow stronger, to give them back their lives… he'd wanted it, he'd worked for it, from the bottom of his heart.

"It's not fair!"

The words came out through his gritted teeth, he kept repeating them, as if the words would somehow change things. But they didn't.

In the kitchen, the tea grew cold.

***

Her body was buried at a cemetery in the mountains.

There were four cemeteries just outside the city—one for each of the seasons. Tradition in Titan's Pass was such that family's weren't always buried together, but rather under the watchful gaze of the season in which they departed. Since Jolaine had passed in the winter, her body would forever rest with Ein'al, as her soul joined the spirits in the world beyond.

Though snow still covered the ground this high up the mountains, Corrin could see grass sticking out where it thinned. Winter was coming to a close, and soon, it would be spring in full. In that moment though, even the wind held still as Lilian bent down and placed two things at the head of her grave—a small stone marker engraved with her name, and a beautiful wooden mask.

There was no priest. Only a few people besides the five of them had come, none of whom Corrin recognized. A few people, and the chill air of the pass.

Kei was standing on one side of Corrin, her face downcast as she sniffled and wiped her eyes. Wyn stood stiffly next to Corrin, clenching his gloved hands tightly as his shoulders trembled, but no tears spilled out.

Corrin felt a lump in his own chest, but he swallowed it down as he watched the one amongst them who had lost the most.

Lilian, compared to many of the people present, seemed unguarded. Her face was pale, cheeks raw from weeping that hadn't ceased since the previous day, but her shoulders were square.

She looked up towards the colorless sky above as she began to speak.

"I didn't actually think I'd ever be here," she said. "I'd never even considered that I'd be the one to bury her. Even without my condition, it always seemed like my grandmother would live forever. She… Jolaine was like a hearth that never went out. No matter how cold it got, no matter how much it snowed, she kept burning, warming everyone around her."

She glanced for a moment at the three of them, and Corrin met her eyes. He nodded once, and bowed his head, thinking of the old woman who'd taken in three strangers and treated them like family.

"When my mother died, Jolaine took on raising me. She'd already lost her husband, as well as her son. I can only imagine how tired she must have been. But even as I grew sick, she never once suggested I was a burden. She just opened her arms and said 'I suppose that's that.' It wouldn't be true to say I never saw her shed a tear, or break down from the weight of everything, but each time, she'd get back up, still burning."

Lilian wiped her eyes, breathing in the icy air. She knelt down at the grave, touching the stone marker with her fingertips.

"If anyone deserves rest, it's you, grandmother. Thank you for everything. I'll keep the fire going. I love you."

***

The stars were bright that night, with no clouds to hide behind. Kei felt that may have been somewhat mocking—it should be cloudy on a night like this.

Lilian was in her room, and Kei didn't want to disturb her. Wyn had retreated as well, taking the loss hard.

Kei stepped outside into the fresh air, which didn't weigh on her so heavily, only to find Corrin sitting on the front stairs, his breath fogging as he stared off into the distance. One arm was draped loosely over his knee, with the other resting on the step behind him.

After a moment of hesitation, she sat down next to him, their shoulders not quite touching.

"Can't a guy grieve in peace?" he asked, voice light and dry.

"Only if he's willing to give up the stairs."

Corrin gave a soft exhale that might've been a laugh. "Tough bargain."

Kei didn't respond to that, and they sat together quietly. The streets of the city were quiet—it was late, most people were asleep by now.

"Wyn's taking it hard," she said after a while.

Corrin nodded, slow. "He always does. That's just who he is."

"You seem alright though," Kei sniffled, wiping more tears away as she laughed dryly. "Better than me at least."

He smiled faintly at that, but didn't turn, his eyes still shrouded to her. "I guess I've always thought that… everybody dies, right? But not everybody lives. Jolaine lived. I think about how I could've missed her altogether. How easy it would've been for our paths to never cross. But they did, and for a little while, we got to know her. I think that matters more than the ending."

Kei looked at him, feeling a bit of admiration. "I wish I could think like that."

They fell quiet again, watching the quiet drifting of snow spirits along the street.

Finally, Corrin shifted. He turned towards her, and in the dim light, Kei saw his smile faltering at the edges. His eyes were glassy, reflecting the light of the stars.

"Still," he said, his voice catching. "I just wish she would chastise me one more time. But I guess that's why it hurts… right?"

Just like that, Kei felt more tears welling up.

There on the steps, they sat, shoulder to shoulder.

And they felt a little warmer.

***

The sun was filtering in through the curtain, casting the bedroom in dim light. Corrin had already woken up and gone out, but Wyn hadn't left bed.

It was the day before their departure, and he'd surely get up then, but today, he didn't feel like moving. He'd already told Corrin and Eia as much, and they'd eventually left him alone. So he sat in silence, looking at his pack propped up against the wall.

Then, a knock.

Lilian opened the door without waiting for a reply, and Wyn felt his chest clench.

He glanced at her, expecting red eyes and sunken shoulders, the same heaviness he carried.

But Lilian stood tall, her eyes were still wet with grief, but she didn't seem to be drowning in it. Without ceremony, she walked over to the window and threw open the curtains.

Golden sunlight flooded the room. The snow outside shimmered, fresh and white beneath a pale blue sky.

Wyn flinched, squinting at the brightness. "Lilian—"

"You need to get up," she said, still looking out. Her voice wasn't sharp, but it didn't leave much room for argument. "That's what she would've said."

He blinked at her, staring at her as the sunlight streamed onto her face. He wasn't sure what to say.

She kept looking out. "I had a dream last night. Grandmother was standing next to my bed, and she started yelling at me. Can you believe it?"

Wyn worked his jaw for a moment, before he managed a chuckle. "That sounds like her."

"Told me to get up and get to work. Springtime is coming, if you don't start making Dun'al masks, you won't have money to eat you silly girl."

"I can— I have money I can—" Wyn stammered.

"No," Lilian said softly. "She's right. You aren't giving me money, and you aren't staying. I wouldn't let you if you tried. You've got a life to live. You've got a place to be, don't you? Starting tomorrow, I'll be all alone. If I don't get up, if I don't keep living, then what will I do? That's not what she'd want for me or you."

Wyn fell quiet, looking down at his lap.

" Besides, I can't keep relying on a boy ten years younger than me. There's something backwards about that." She took his hand. "Come on, get up."

Slowly, Wyn stood, facing the window. The snow looked different today—not gone, but not as endless as before. Some of it was beginning to melt along the rooftops, leaving the stone tiles damp in its wake.

"You were right," he said after a moment. "In the end, spring comes, winter fades. The snow all melts away eventually."

"Yes… that's true." Her voice caught just a little bit. But to his surprise, she continued. "But the snowflake is still beautiful, isn't it?"

Wyn's eyes widened just a little as he turned to face her.

Lilian smiled faintly, even as he saw her eyes shimmering.

"And with spring," she said, "flowers even more beautiful can bloom."

For a moment, he sat still. He could almost feel the grief in her chest. And he was certain, it was much greater than his own. Was she smiling for his sake? No, that wasn't it. It was something else. He could understand that, just a little.

Lilian gave his hand a squeeze, then stood, brushing her hands on her skirt.

"Now come on. If you don't help with the travel preparations, who knows what those two will do?"

Wyn let out a breath of laughter. "One more day…"

Lilian nodded. "Let's make it a good one."

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