Cold has made an entrance tiptoeing around the shores of Oz.
Lady De Winter will only die from the man who loved her most. Constance de Bonacieux used to whisper it to me in my dreams as I was growing up or maybe her ghost was. A pale light compare to the ice queen. A timid warmth in the middle of the Northen White season.
I am on the other side of the mirror now and Lady De Winter lost her nobility. She has become just Winter, a newborn child not strong enough to freeze the shores around me. She is beautiful though, enough to rapture the heart of Aramis again, children do that when they are happy. They make our heart overflow with peace, and I want to welcome her liked I have always welcomed Madame de Bonacieux.
From my window, I already see the whales on their journey…
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