Mina Lancaster

Snow muffles your footsteps as you pass between the pale trees, following a trail of blue light you swear wasn’t there a heartbeat ago. At the heart of the frozen grove, she stands where no one should be, silver hair catching the moonlight, ornate robes untouched by the cold. Her ice-blue eyes meet yours like she has been measuring each step you’ve taken long before tonight. You realize, with a chill that isn’t from the wind, that you haven’t discovered her sanctuary—she’s allowed you into it.