The flight back to the Ice Kingdom felt like a never-ending stretch of cold, unspoken tension. Snowfall, her younger sister, couldn't seem to look away from Luniarnai, her piercing glare cutting through the silence like a sharpened blade. The younger IceWing's resentment was palpable, like a thick fog hanging in the air. Every so often, Snowfall would mutter something under her breath, too soft for Luniarnai to hear but loud enough to sting the edges of her nerves. It was as though every beat of her wings, every gust of wind that swirled around them, was another reminder of the family she had left behind—and the bitterness she had returned to.

Queen Glacier, ever the picture of composure, remained eerily quiet, her steady wingbeats slicing through the cold air with mechanical precision. She didn't glance at Luniarnai, didn't offer any comfort, or even acknowledge the discomfort that hung between them like a storm cloud. Her icy silence made Luniarnai feel smaller, more insignificant than ever before. The weight of being the estranged daughter—the rogue, the traitor—pressed down on her chest like an invisible anchor.

Luniarnai longed to reach out, to speak, to ask something—anything—to ease the ache in her heart, but words caught in her throat, frozen by the cold tension around them. More than anything, she wanted to go home. She wanted the warmth of the Rainforest again, the gentle embrace of Darkstalker, and the feeling of being free.

But there was no freedom in this flight. Only the oppressive cold of the Ice Kingdom, the towering mountains ahead, and the growing distance between her and the life she had once known.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of quiet flight, Queen Glacier made a sudden turn and signaled for the group to land. Below them, nestled in the rocky landscape, was a small pond, the water a dark reflection of the overcast sky. The icy wind swept across the surface, sending ripples cascading outward. It was a quiet, secluded place, perfect for the brief stop they needed.

The guards were ordered to keep watch, their silent presence a constant reminder that Luniarnai was still a prisoner in all but name. As they landed, the icy chill of the earth beneath her claws felt oddly comforting—familiar, like an old, forgotten memory she couldn't quite place. Still, the weight of everything, the sense of duty and expectation that clung to her as a daughter of IceWing royalty, made her want to claw her way out of her own skin.

Queen Glacier wasted no time in settling by the pond, her regal posture remaining unshaken even in the midst of this uncomfortable pause. Snowfall, however, shot Luniarnai one last venomous look before walking to the far side of the pond, clearly eager to distance herself from the shame she so clearly associated with her older sister.

Luniarnai sat down at the edge of the pond, her eyes lingering on the still waters. She tried to focus on the simple things—the way the wind stirred the ice at the edges of the water, the quiet sound of her own breathing—but all she could think about was Darkstalker. How was he? Was he safe? Was he still looking for her? Was there any chance they could escape together, run far from this frozen kingdom, and start over?

A lump formed in her throat as the uncertainty of her future weighed heavily on her heart. With a soft sigh, Luniarnai closed her eyes, her mind drifting back to the warmth of the rainforest, the glimmer of her moondrop necklace—now lost—and the memory of the one dragon she knew she could trust more than anyone.

But for now, there was no escape. Only the cold, the silence, and the long flight back to the kingdom she had once called home.

And the looming presence of a family she could never quite fit into.

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The morning sun barely broke through the frosted window of the cave when Luniarnai awoke, a coldness in the air that matched the unease in her chest. As she slowly opened her eyes, she felt a heavy pressure on her head. It was Queen Glacier's talon, firm but oddly gentle as it rested atop her. Luniarnai stiffened instinctively, her body tense, but she didn't move. The touch was not something she was used to. It felt too foreign, too much like something she had long since abandoned.

"What's wrong?" Glacier's voice was soft, yet there was an undeniable edge to it—a tone Luniarnai had never quite heard from her before. She refused to acknowledge the softening in the queen's eyes. She hadn't called Glacier mother in years, and she wouldn't start now.

Luniarnai pushed herself upright, looking away from the queen, trying to focus on something—anything other than the weight of her mother's gaze. The air felt thick, suffocating, like there was something pressing against her chest.

"I was fine, you know," Luniarnai muttered, her tail flicking irritably behind her. She looked down at her talons, tracing the contours of her scales absently as if they could offer her some comfort. "Before you and your hierarchy came crashing down on me, I was happy in the Night Kingdom."

The words tasted bitter as they left her mouth. There was no point in lying about it now. She had been happier, more at peace in the Night Kingdom, where the world was both dark and free. She hadn't been bound by expectations, by bloodlines, by her family's cold, distant grasp.

Glacier's coal eyes softened for a brief moment, but there was no warmth there. Only a flicker of something—regret? Sadness? It was hard to say. The queen let out a slow sigh, her voice careful as she spoke. "I know, but then Darkstalker turned. I've heard the story."

At the mention of Darkstalker's name, Luniarnai's blood ran cold. Her claws dug into the stone beneath her, her tail whipping around to lash angrily behind her. She couldn't help it. Darkstalker turned. The words haunted her, like a ghost that refused to leave. She had lived through it. She had seen the dragon she loved change into something she could barely recognize. But no one could understand it—the depth of it. No IceWing did, not even Glacier.

Luniarnai hissed through her teeth, her voice sharp, cutting the silence between them like a knife. "You don't know the full extent of it! No IceWing does!" Her eyes flashed with a fury she hadn't shown in years. "You think you understand because you've heard the stories. But those aren't my stories, are they? You've never been there, never seen it with your own eyes."

Queen Glacier seemed to recoil slightly, as though the words stung more than she had expected. But Luniarnai wasn't done. She stood, her legs trembling with pent-up emotion, her wings slightly unfurled as if they, too, needed space to stretch.

"You don't understand what it was like to watch him fall," Luniarnai continued, her voice quiet but intense, trembling with raw pain. "To watch the dragon I trusted, the dragon I loved, turn into someone I couldn't recognize. No IceWing could understand that. You think you're saving me, bringing me back here, but you're not. You're just bringing me back to a life I don't belong in anymore."

The silence stretched on between them, thick and suffocating. Luniarnai's breath was shallow, but the rage inside her still burned—fueled by the memory of the betrayal, by the loss of Darkstalker, and by the family that had never truly understood her.

Luniarnai turned her back on Queen Glacier, her tail lashing behind her like a whip. The icy air bit at her scales, but it was nothing compared to the chill in her chest. She had been silent for so long, had held her tongue for years—but now, everything inside her cracked, spilling out in a rush of bitter truth.

"I'm done following IceWing etiquette," she spat, her voice hard and sharp. "I was gone a long time ago—2000 years ago, to be exact. I won't go back with you and Snowfall; she clearly wants me gone anyway. The kingdom will never trust me again." Her words hung in the air like frozen shards of ice, each one cutting deeper than the last.

Her wings unfurled with a forceful snap, glittering like freshly fallen snow under the pale morning light. They shimmered with a cold beauty, reflecting the harshness of the path she had chosen. No more chains, no more expectations, no more bending to a world that had never truly seen her for who she was.

She stepped back, her heart heavy but resolute. "Goodbye, Mother," she said, the words coming out quieter, but no less final. "I hope you're going to be happy with whoever you choose to take the throne."

With that, she spread her wings wide and leapt into the sky. The cold wind whipped around her as she soared upwards, leaving the royal family—and the kingdom she had once called home—behind. The wind felt different now, freer, as if the very air was welcoming her escape.

They can have their throne, she thought bitterly, the familiar weight of the past lifting off her shoulders with every beat of her wings. I'll carve my own path, wherever it may lead.