FROST

Three years had passed since that fateful day—the day Silvermist's parents found her unconscious in the middle of the meadows, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.

Ever since, the same dream had haunted her nights, pulling her from slumber with a gasp, tears blurring her vision.

It was always the same—an intoxicating mix of bliss and sorrow, as if she had plunged into an ocean of euphoria, only to be dragged down by an unbearable ache. A sharp, twisting pain would seize her chest, stealing her breath, leaving her gasping in the suffocating silence of the night.

The memories were vague, fragmented like pieces of a shattered mirror, yet they hurt just as much as the lingering ghost of his touch—a touch that felt more like scars etched into the depths of her soul.

Why did he always appear in her dreams?

Who was he?