It was suffocating beyond words. Each breath she drew felt like inhaling shards of ice, burning her lungs from the inside out. She stumbled back, staggering, her every attempt causing the same cruel response—a punishment for attempting to search her runes. Every time she tried, a great cold settled upon her, halting her completely, as though winter itself had wrapped its fingers around her soul.
"No... I..." Her voice was barely a whisper. A shuddering exhale left her lips, the white plume of her breath hanging in the air—evidence of the unnatural chill surrounding her. The mist dissipated slowly, as if reluctant to leave her alone in her suffering.
Her hands scrambled for the iron bars of the cell door, fingers wrapping around the metal with desperate strength. It rattled under her grasp, echoing hollowly down the hallways, but the contact sent a sharp sting through her palm. She winced, hesitating before overturning her trembling hand. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the frost creep across her skin—not just resting upon it, but sinking deeper, infiltrating, inflicting a deep pain that felt like microscopic glass shards flowing through her veins. The frost formed intricate, crystalline patterns across her flesh, beautiful and terrible all at once.
She clenched her fist, summoning her Aspect with everything she had, though she could painfully only muster a pathetic flame from her palm. The flame wavered for just a moment before it faded, swallowed whole by the icy affliction. And the pain only increased as tears welled in her eyes, the salty tears freezing against her lashes. Helplessness settled deeper into her bones as the icy affliction began crawling up her hand to her arm. Then—
A hand reached out.
It was ungodly warm. So warm that she gasped, the sensation almost burning against her frozen skin. She looked down at the hand that held hers—slick with blood. Fresh. Still dripping. Crimson rivulets ran between their intertwined fingers, pooling in her palm. The heat of it seeped into the icy affliction that housed itself in her skin, causing steam to rise where they touched. Her gaze lifted to meet his eyes, and there, in his weary gaze, she saw something that made her heart lurch.
He was her age, he had to be. A bit shorter, impossibly skinny, with collarbones that protruded sharply beneath his threadbare shirt. Yet the confidence on his face was unyielding, a stark contrast to his frail form. His jaw was set with determination.
"It's okay..." His voice trembled, but his grip did not waver. The icy affliction crawled from her flesh to his, winding up his arm in jagged tendrils. He exhaled, shuddering, his face paling further, and his next words could barely be made out through the pain that clearly consumed him.
"I... I promise I will stand this time... I won't let it happen again..."
A wet splatter struck the floor beneath him.
The blood, there was too much of it, spilling from his side in thick streams that painted the stone floor in red pools. His knees buckled first, joints giving way as though strings had been cut. Then he collapsed shortly after, his body crumpling to the floor.
No one moved. No one helped.
Ecludia dropped beside him, her own pain and worry forgotten as she pressed her trembling hands to the gaping gash in his side. Blood pulsed between her fingers with each weakening beat of his heart.
She would not let him die.
***
The bare trees were covered in frost, their branches wrapped in sparkling ice that caught what little light filtered through the gray sky. Each tree stood still like a frozen guard, their branches creaking and groaning as the wind blew through them. The snow beneath their boots crunched with every step, its sharp sound echoing in the quiet forest. Their footprints left a trail behind them—the only trail present in this wilderness.
Beside Zerin, Cain walked with an easy stride, almost careless despite the harsh surroundings. His hands rested on top of his head, fingers tangled together, elbows sticking out like wings. His breath came out in thick clouds, vanishing before it could settle.
"You know," Cain said, breaking the silence, "if someone hit me like that, they'd be missing arms."
His words cut through the quiet. He nudged Zerin with his elbow, the layers of Zerin's clothing softening the blow. His grin widened. "At least punch him back, runt."
Zerin didn't look at him. His face stayed blank, frozen, like the realm around him. His dark eyes stared ahead, fixed on the Howler that was leading them ahead. When he spoke, his voice was calm and steady. "It wouldn't change anything."
Cain let out a deep sigh, like he'd just given up on something. He tilted his head back, exposing his neck to the cold sky, making the movement look over-the-top. Then, lowering his voice to mock Zerin's calm tone, he imitated, "'If you touch me again, I'll kill you.'"
His version was exaggerated, almost ridiculous. Then Cain burst into laughter, the sound loud and startling.
Behind them, Evan walked carefully, like he was afraid the ground would break if he moved too quickly. His gaze was sharp, but internally he felt timid—not by Cain's laughter that echoed too loudly, but by the stillness in Zerin's posture.
Beside him, Seren adjusted her hair, fingers twisting it into a ponytail despite her mittens. Ice had formed tiny crystals at her temples where sweat had frozen.
"Don't let him get to you," she said, her voice barely audible over the wind. "He's been pushing your buttons this whole time."
Evan exhaled sharply, his breath forming a cloud of vapor. "It's working."
His gaze moved past Cain's slim physique and broad shoulders, past the snowy ground to the back of Zerin's head. His dark hair seemed to absorb all the light, contrasting sharply with the whiteness around them.
And then, it hit him. Zerin's control. The way Zerin had taken charge of everything—the group, the pace, the decisions no one ever questioned. The others seemed to follow his lead without thinking about it. But even before that somewhere along the way, Zerin had taken control without anyone noticing.
When had it slipped through his fingers? When had Zerin taken over?
Cain, still amused by his own joke, twisted his body to look backward without breaking stride, his coordination impressive despite the uneven ground. His grin deepened, eyes flashing with mischief—or something darker. "You know, Evan, you looked pretty desperate back there. Almost begging Zerin to take you with to save this Ecludia girl."
He laughed again, a sharper sound this time. "And Zerin—man, he agreed so fast. Almost like he was waiting for you to ask."
Evan's jaw tightened, his muscles clenching under the skin, but he stayed silent. Answering would mean acknowledging what this psycho was saying.
The had been walking for what felt like hours. The wind now had shifted, rattling the trees. Ahead, the Howler lifted his head, its glowing sockets turned toward the gusts of wind---sensing of what was to come. And then, they all knew. The snow was coming. And with it, something far worse.