This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The ancient stones of Castle Thornwick groaned under the weight of winter's endless grip, their surfaces slick with ice that never melted. Princess Lyralei pressed her palm against the frost-covered window of her tower chamber, watching her breath form crystalline patterns in the frigid air. Below, the courtyard lay buried beneath snow that had fallen for three consecutive years without pause, transforming her once-vibrant kingdom into a wasteland of perpetual winter.

"The curse grows stronger," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible above the howling wind that rattled the ancient casements. The ice beneath her touch began to spread, creeping across the glass in delicate, deadly fractals. She jerked her hand away, clenching her fists as the familiar shame washed over her.

Twenty-one years had passed since the day of her birth, when the court's most trusted seer had delivered a prophecy that would forever alter the fate of Aethermoor. The old woman's words still echoed through the halls like a haunting refrain: "Born of winter's heart shall she be, with power to freeze the very sea. But fire's heir shall be her bane, unless true love breaks winter's chain."

Lyralei's father, King Aldric, had initially dismissed the prophecy as the ramblings of an aging mystic. But as his daughter grew, so did the unnatural cold that seemed to follow in her wake. Flowers withered at her touch, water froze in her presence, and gradually, the entire kingdom began to succumb to an endless winter that defied all natural law.

A sharp knock interrupted her brooding. "Your Highness," came the familiar voice of Meredith, her lady-in-waiting. "Your father requests your presence in the great hall. There are visitors."