The candle is almost burned out. Mother says I can’t light another one.

  The castle is too silent.

  Castles are never like this when something is right.

  Mother is gathering only what is necessary.

  She doesn’t cry.

  That scares me more than if she did.

  They said it’s just a short trip.

  That we’ll return soon.

  But the guards escorting us do not wear the family crest.

  Father always said that when the symbols disappear, the truth is already gone.

  I heard my name whispered in the corridors today.

  Not with affection.

  Like a problem.

  My uncle smiles like someone sharpening a knife behind his back.

  Mother held my hands too tightly when they said the Council would “take care of everything.”

  She doesn’t believe that.

  Neither do I.

  Are we running away?

  Even if no one uses that word.

  Today, Mother spoke to a strange man.

  He didn’t kneel.

  Didn’t smile.

  Didn’t call me “Your Highness.”

  He just stood there, as if the world around him didn’t matter.

  Mother said he will protect us.

  For a long time.

  She said he is not famous.

  She said that is good.

  He looked at me only once.

  Not like someone seeing a princess.

  But like someone measuring a threat.

  That should scare me.

  But somehow… it made me feel safe.

  If this diary survives,

  if I survive,

  I want to remember this moment.

  Because I may grow with it.

  They say he is fierce, but his eyes say nothing. It’s strange.

  Me, Mother, and the man walk through the kingdom wearing thick clothes. Are we leaving?

  The cart waiting for us says yes.

  There is plenty of food.

  For how long will we walk?

  They say he kills without hesitation.

  That he speaks to no one.

  But his eyes…

  His eyes say nothing.

  No hatred.

  No kindness.

  Only a heavy silence, like snow before it falls.

  Mother walks beside me, wrapped in clothes too heavy for this season. I am too.

  The fabric itches, squeezes, but I don’t complain.

  Complaining doesn’t change what is happening.

  The man walks a few steps ahead.

  He doesn’t look back.

  He doesn’t ask if we’re well.

  But he never moves far enough to leave us alone.

  It’s strange to trust someone who doesn’t try to seem trustworthy.

  We cross parts of the kingdom I only knew from maps and stories told by the fireplace.

  Now everything seems different.

  Smaller.

  Darker.

  As if the world had shrunk.

  Are we leaving?

  No one says it out loud, but we all know the answer.

  The cart waits beyond the secondary gate.

  It says yes.

  There is enough food for many days. Mother counted.

  She tried to smile when she said it, as if this were an adventure.

  I didn’t ask how long we will walk.

  I’m afraid of the answer.

  The man finally stops for a moment. He doesn’t look at me, only adjusts his sword and says, in a low, firm voice:

  “When we enter the cart, do not speak. Do not look outside. If you hear something… trust me.”

  That’s all.

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  He doesn’t even know my name.

  And yet, he is the one we place our lives in.

  I close the diary now.

  My hands are cold.

  I don’t know where we’re going.

  I only know the kingdom stays behind.

  And that, from today on, that man’s silence is all we have between us and death.

  The slow creak of the cart mixed with the howl of the wind.

  The snowstorm covered everything in white, erasing roads, trees, even the sense of direction.

  The woman woke after hours of poor sleep, her body stiff from cold and worry. She adjusted the cloak on her shoulders, cast one last look at her daughter curled beneath thick blankets… and then moved to the front of the cart.

  The man walked beside it, steps firm in the snow, as if the cold dared not touch him.

  “How long do you think it will take to pass the kingdom’s barriers?” she asked.

  Her voice was low, tired, but steady.

  He didn’t turn immediately. He watched the white horizon, alert to any movement that didn’t belong to the storm.

  “Two days,” he finally answered. “If the snowstorm continues, Lady Isolde.”

  The name sounded strange in his mouth. Too formal. Too distant.

  But Isolde nodded anyway.

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then one day,” he said. “Or less… if we aren’t followed.”

  Isolde clasped her hands together, as if that could warm them.

  “They won’t give up,” she murmured. “My brother-in-law never accepts losing.”

  The bodyguard finally looked at her. His eyes were far too calm for someone in that situation. There was no fear there. No haste. No judgment.

  “That’s why I was hired.”

  The answer was simple. Raw.

  And somehow comforting.

  Isolde breathed deeply.

  “You don’t seem… worried.”

  “Worry gets in the way,” he said. “Vigilance doesn’t.”

  She studied him for a few seconds, trying to understand the man walking beside the cart as if this were just another road.

  “They say you’re fierce,” she commented, almost whispering. “That you’ve killed men larger than you without hesitation.”

  He shrugged.

  “They say many things.”

  “And what is true?”

  The silence stretched between them, filled only by the wind.

  “That I do the job,” he answered. “Nothing more than that.”

  Isolde nodded, looking ahead.

  The white road seemed endless.

  Behind them, inside the cart, Elaris slept — unaware that this stranger with silent steps would, for years, be the only thing standing between her and death.

  And ahead…

  only snow, escape, and a destiny that did not yet have a name.

  The cart’s creaking was constant, almost hypnotic.

  Snow struck the thick canvas like impatient fingers.

  Bruno walked ahead, steps firm, heavy cloak covering almost his entire body. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.

  Isolde climbed down carefully from the side of the cart, her feet sinking into the snow up to her ankles. She approached him, keeping some distance — not out of fear, but exhaustion.

  “Your name is Bruno. That was the only information we managed to get from you. You hide your past well.”

  Bruno slowed his pace for a moment, just enough to answer without turning his face.

  “You say that now, when no one is around. You shouldn’t be afraid.”

  Isolde let out a short, dry laugh.

  “Afraid of what?”

  She stepped closer, the wind cutting her already weary face.

  “I know nothing about you. And honestly…”

  She glanced quickly at the cart, where little Elaris slept wrapped in thick blankets.

  “At this moment, even freezing to death seems simpler than continuing to walk.”

  Bruno finally turned his head.

  There was no anger.

  No threat.

  Only exhaustion.

  “Then keep walking for her.”

  Isolde held his gaze for a few seconds. For the first time since they had left, she didn’t see a mercenary. She saw someone… empty.

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  Silence settled between them again.

  After a few steps, Isolde spoke once more:

  “Two days, you said.”

  “If the snowstorm continues like this.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  Bruno looked at the gray sky.

  “Then we arrive sooner.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “You speak as if you don’t care about the outcome.”

  “Caring doesn’t change the path.”

  Isolde sighed, too tired to argue.

  “Then just… keep walking ahead.”

  Bruno looked forward again and resumed his pace.

  The cart moved on.

  “Inside,” Bruno said while readying his sword.

  “They’re already here. He has no empathy.”

  “They’re nobles. What did you expect?”

  Isolde returned to the cart as she could only hear heavy steps through the snow.

  The steps weren’t rushed.

  They were steady.

  The snow crunched beneath heavy boots, each sound echoing more than it should in the white silence.

  Bruno advanced a few meters ahead of the cart, driving his sword into the ground for a moment, just to feel the resistance of the ice. His eyes swept the mist.

  Three silhouettes slowly emerged.

  Long cloaks. Fabrics far too expensive for fugitives. Breathing far too controlled for ordinary travelers.

  One of them raised a hand.

  “By order of the provisional council, this route is closed. Identify yourselves.”

  Bruno didn’t answer immediately.

  He calmly pulled the sword from the ground.

  “The provisional council does not command this road.”

  The voice came out low, firm, without challenge — just fact.

  The man frowned.

  “You have no authority to—”

  Metal rang.

  Bruno took a single step.

  Just one.

  But the air seemed to grow heavy.

  “Turn back.”

  He lightly pointed the blade to the side, indicating the path they came from.

  “Now.”

  The second man hesitated, hand moving toward his weapon.

  “It’s just a guard,” he murmured. “And a cart.”

  Bruno tilted his head, almost curious.

  “Yes.”

  A slight shift of weight. Almost imperceptible.

  “And that’s already more than you can handle.”

  The third man stepped back without realizing it.

  The first clenched his teeth.

  “Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

  Bruno finally lifted his eyes fully.

  There was no hatred.

  No anger.

  No pleasure.

  Only emptiness.

  “No,” he answered.

  “And it doesn’t matter.”

  A heavy silence fell between them.

  Behind them, inside the cart, Elaris peeked through the thick blankets, clutching the fabric with small hands. She didn’t understand everything — but she felt it.

  She felt that this man…

  was not afraid.

  Isolde watched from the cart’s shadow, tense but silent. For the first time since the escape began, she didn’t interfere.

  The three men exchanged quick glances.

  None wanted to be the first.

  “Let’s go,” the leader finally said, curt.

  “It’s not worth it.”

  They retreated, steps too hurried for those pretending authority.

  When they vanished into the snowstorm, Bruno finally lowered his sword.

  He stood there for a few seconds, listening to the wind.

  Then he turned toward the cart.

  “You can continue.”

  His voice returned to neutral.

  “They won’t come back.”

  Isolde exhaled deeply, climbing back to the front of the cart.

  Elaris, still hidden, watched the bodyguard through the crack.

  They said he was fierce.

  But now…

  he seemed only lonely, walking ahead of the cart as if the entire world were something he had already learned to cross.

  And the escape continued.

  Finally, the child stepped out of the cart. Small. Frail. But she wasn’t afraid.

  “You are strong. I can see it, and my mother can too.”

  “What do you want, child?”

  “It’s Elaris. Not child. And I want to know how you became so strong.”

  “How did I become strong? It’s not that simple, child. I fought, I bled, I killed. There’s no secret. I suffered, and I made others suffer. That’s how I became strong.”

  Elaris stared at those words, still trying to understand.

  She couldn’t.

  She simply returned to the cart, glancing back at Bruno once more.

  “I’m not a child. It’s Elaris.”

  Elaris remained seated for a few moments, watching his broad back disappear little by little into the white curtain.

  She didn’t understand his words.

  Fight. Bleed. Kill.

  Suffer and make suffer.

  None of it matched someone who simply… walked ahead of them, silent, attentive, like a moving wall.

  The cart began to move again.

  Isolde adjusted her daughter’s blanket, pulling her close again.

  “Don’t provoke him,” she said quietly, more tired than stern. “Men like him don’t like questions.”

  “He answered,” Elaris said.

  Isolde hesitated.

  “He answered… but he didn’t explain.”

  The child fell silent for a while, listening only to the creak of the wood, the wind’s breath, and the steady rhythm of the steps ahead.

  Then she spoke again — softer, as if afraid the cold itself might hear.

  “Mother… he seems empty.”

  Isolde closed her eyes for a moment.

  “Or too full,” she replied. “Of things no one should carry.”

  The snowstorm thickened.

  Bruno raised his arm, signaling a stop. His eyes scanned the endless white, attentive to something neither Isolde nor Elaris could see.

  “We’ll dismount,” he said without turning. “We’ll continue on foot for a stretch. The road is too exposed.”

  Isolde stepped down with difficulty. Elaris jumped by herself, sinking into the snow up to her ankles.

  She slipped — and before Isolde could react, a firm hand caught her by the hood.

  Bruno set her upright without saying anything.

  Without looking at her.

  Without gentleness.

  Without brutality.

  Just… efficiency.

  Elaris lifted her face.

  “Thank you.”

  Silence.

  Bruno had already walked a few steps away when he replied, almost as if speaking to the wind:

  “Stay close to the cart.”

  She watched as he resumed the lead, sword low, posture alert.

  Elaris clenched her small fists inside her sleeves.

  He said there was no secret to being strong.

  But she didn’t fully believe that.

  Because empty people don’t protect strangers in the middle of a snowstorm.

  And cruel people don’t hold children carefully.

  She returned to her mother’s side —

  but for the first time since they left the kingdom,

  she didn’t feel only fear.

  She felt curiosity.

  And that, in a world of ice and flight,

  was extremely dangerous.