The Kalandir entered the portal first, stepping into the threshold with neither urgency nor hesitation. They didn't hesitate, nor was there any discussion.
On the other side, they emerged beneath a vaulted archway of black stone streaked with threads of silver.
The portal behind them shimmered once, then flickered out.
Castle Elentir stood before them.
Its towers reached high, thin, like needles against the gray sky.
Snow clung to their surfaces in thick patches, not drifting as freshly fallen snow might, but settled. The cold had made its home here a long time ago and had never left.
For a while, nothing moved. Then the enormous entrance doors, not having seen any guests for hundreds of years, began to groan as they opened, not from disrepair, but simply from disuse.
The hall beyond was quiet but well lit.
Two men stood waiting in the center.
They were tall, pale-skinned, and dark-haired and stood side by side with mirrored posture.
Their faces were the same in every detail, like twin statues carved from the same marble.
When the Kalandir entered, the brothers bowed, not deeply, not with ceremony, but simply.
"Welcome home, my lords and ladies," said one of them. "We have kept the castle ready."
The Kalandir walked past them without speaking.
Their steps were light and made no more noise than a breeze through curtains.
Vell watched them disappear deeper into the keep. Then he turned to one of the twins.
"How long has it been since you had any guests?" he asked.
The brother turned to Vell.
"Since the last snowfall before the war," he replied.
Vell raised an eyebrow. "Which war?"
The brother paused, resting a hand lightly against his chin in thought. "The one before the forming of the United Elves, I believe."
Vell shook his head. That was over a thousand years ago, and he spoke of it like it had been a recent event.
Sonder stepped closer.
She looked between the twins and then up at the high walls of the entrance hall.
They were pristine. There were no cobwebs in the corners. The stone was cool but not damp. The tapestries were hung, preserved, not faded or torn.
"You've kept the halls well," she said.
"Thank you," said the second twin.
The twins offered to show the guests to their quarters, and the Kalandir accepted with a quiet nod, following without question.
But Vell did not go with them.
Instead, he turned away from the hall and made his way up a narrow stairwell.
Sonder followed close behind, her footsteps soft against the stone.
At the top, they emerged onto a high balcony carved into one of the castle's slender towers. The wind met them immediately, cold and sharp.
Below them stretched a vast, frozen world. The forest was a tangle of bare, ice-laced branches.
The hills had been carved smooth by centuries of wind. In the far distance, mountains rose like teeth from the earth, their peaks lost in drifting clouds.
Everything was white and silver and still.
Vell stepped to the edge and placed his hands on the railing, crusted faintly with frost. He leaned forward slightly, and his breath fogged the air.
Beside him, Sonder crossed her arms over her chest. She didn't feel the cold, not truly, but the gesture came instinctively.