All Chapters of Hidden Fire in the Snow: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Looking at the face of the woman sitting on the boat, I felt that even the freezing waters of Quebec were warmer than I was. Lucas's mother! The woman the entire city believed to be dead twenty years ago—the woman whose supposed murder had branded my father a killer—was sitting right in front of me, very much alive.Her gaze was grey, just like Lucas’s, but there was no love in it; only a solidified, crystalline revenge.​"You... you’re alive!"My voice broke into a sob. "Then why does everyone say my father killed you? Why has Lucas spent his whole life standing on this fire, burning himself alive?"​The woman, Elena Valentine, gave a strange, contemptuous smile. She lifted my chin with her gloved hand resting on the boat's railing. "Your father was a very good man, Sophia. So good that he took the guilt of murder upon himself just so a 'Moreno' princess like me could be hidden from the world’s eyes. But today, your father’s sacrifice has gone to waste."​I was stunned. Elena Valent

As the intense white light from hundreds of searchlights pierced through the crevices of the cave, it felt as though the gates of hell had opened rather than a rescue team arriving.But my entire focus was on the lifeless body lying in my lap—Lucas Valentine. The man who was simultaneously my protector, my predator, and the sole owner of my heart. The irregular thumping of his heart sent waves of agony through my palms.​Lucas’s final words hammered against my brain—'We aren't blood relations.' This meant that the fire of revenge that had consumed our families for twenty years, the reason my father was branded a killer, was all a demonic script written by Elena Valentine.I might carry Moreno blood, but I wasn't Lucas’s forbidden sister. This truth should have felt like nectar, but looking at Lucas’s fading form, it felt like I was paying a staggering price for it.​"Lucas! You can't leave like this! Do you hear me?" I screamed. My tears fell steadily onto his bloodied cheeks.​Lucas

Standing before the massive, diamond-encrusted door of the Moreno vault, my entire body turned to ice. The mechanical voice poured venom into my ears: "To open the vault, the life of the beloved must be sacrificed." My heart felt like it was tearing apart as I looked at the screen. There was Lucas. My arrogant, powerful Lucas was kneeling in the dust today. The barrel of Arthur Moreno’s gun was pressed against his forehead, while beside him, Elena Valentine stood with a demonic peace, waiting for her son’s blood to spill.​"Sophia! Don’t delay!" Arthur Moreno’s voice exploded through the speakers. "Do you want to see Lucas’s head burst like a watermelon? Or will you take the Moreno scepter in your own hands? Open this vault and you will be the Empress of Quebec, with the rotten empires of the Valentines and Smiths beneath your feet!"​I reached toward the screen, wanting to touch Lucas’s face. He kept one eye closed in pain; in the other was a strange steadiness. Suddenly, he raise

The hand gripping my throat was colder than ice, but its touch sent a powerful electric surge down my spine. Breathing beneath that blood-red water should have been impossible, yet to my shock, my lungs had filled with the blue gas, creating a substitute for air. I wasn't drowning; I was sinking into an infinite void where gravity ceased to exist.​The silhouette from the coffin dragged me deeper. As we descended, the water turned from red to a dark, bruised purple. Suddenly, my feet hit solid ground. As the mist cleared, my eyes widened. Beneath the pond lay another world entirely!​A massive city, its buildings constructed from human bone and black stone, stretched before me. From every corner, a haunting blue light emanated. Thousands of skeletons knelt along the streets, as if awaiting the arrival of a great empress. And ahead stood the royal throne, where the woman with my exact face sat.​She wore a blood-red gown and a crown of black diamonds. She looked at me with a cryptic sm

​I was walking through the deep darkness, and a cold fear was creeping into my bones. Suddenly, I saw a small thatched-roof hut. I quickly stood before it. A single light hung above, flickering rhythmically. The atmosphere felt terrifying and oppressive. I was paralyzed, unable to decide my next move. I was so exhausted and helpless. A thought kept nudging me—should I knock on the door or just leave? Finally, my heart told me to reach for the door. I didn't delay and made a tapping sound.​The door was opened from the other side by a small child, appearing no more than six or seven years old.​In a strangely thin, high-pitched voice, he asked, "Do you need something?"​Stammering, I replied, "Little one, is there no one else in your house?"​The child told me, "My grandmother is at home, and no one else." I asked him if he could call his grandmother. He replied, "My grandmother is sleeping. I can't call her."​I then asked the child, "Well, little one, can I stay here for a night?"