The storm on the other side of the portal roared to life, far more violent than before, as if the elements themselves had been summoned to ward them off. Snow and frost whipped through the air in a frenzy, a living entity of chaos. Griswa, Yesdar, and Malaes stepped into this hostile world with the kind of stillness that only those acquainted with the unknown could muster. The mountains loomed in the distance, dark shapes half-hidden by the blizzard's veil. To their left, the sea lurked, its low tides sluggish beneath the frost-bitten air, its surface restless beneath the storm's fury. Their surroundings were barely visible through the thick curtain of frost and snow, but what they could see told them all they needed to know—this storm was worse. Far worse.
Griswa removed his blue shaded glasses, their lenses were fogged by the sudden overwhelming cold. He slipped them into his ornate coat, the movements precise, calculated—as though the act itself could defy the chaos that surrounded them. The frost clung to every surface, each flake carrying with it a cruel bite, a reminder of the unforgiving world they had returned to.
Yesdar turned to observe the sea, his breath visible in the air. "Oh! Here is a sea too... like the ones we saw back on Ehayor." His voice was quieter than usual, as if the storm itself demanded silence from those within it.
Malaes didn't respond, her attention already elsewhere, senses sharpened. Something—an anomaly in the air, a break in the natural rhythm—caught her attention. She tilted her head, her gaze fixed ahead, piercing the storm with invisible tendrils of awareness. "Do you hear it?" she asked, her voice barely above the whisper of the wind.
Griswa's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Faint breathing… someone's close."
There was no need for further words. They advanced, their movements swift, cutting through the storm as if it were little more than a nuisance. The cold didn't touch them; their bodies had long since become impervious to such trivialities. What mattered was the faint, fragile life clinging to existence in the depths of this frozen wasteland.
Yesdar lingered as he was transfixed by the view of the sea for just a moment too long, his attention was pulled by the serene beauty of it amidst the chaos of the storm. By the time he snapped back to attention, Griswa and Malaes had disappeared into the white haze, already far ahead. Cursing softly, he rushed to catch up.
"Wait!"
When Yesdar reached them, Griswa and Malaes had knelt near the figure they had been seeking. A body, encased in ice, lay before them. Motionless. Still.
"Yesdar," Griswa murmured, his voice low. "It's here."
Without hesitation, Yesdar knelt beside the figure, the cold biting at his knees through the snow. His hand hovered over the ice, fingers spread, commanding the world around him with the ease of one accustomed to bending reality to his will.
"Fire Commanding: Hand Candle."
The flame that flickered into existence above his palm wasn't simply fire. It didn't burn, it didn't sear; instead, it hovered with an ethereal glow, as if the fire itself had learned to respect the world it had been summoned into. Yesdar brought the flickering flame close to the ice, its heat spreading slowly, deliberately, like a secret whispered in the dark. The ice began to melt, droplets of water sliding down in rivulets, freeing the frozen figure within.
This was no ordinary fire—Yesdar's control over the elements had evolved far beyond simply conjuring flames. Now, he commanded, he gave orders to the nature itself, drawing fire from the latent energy in the world around him.
"Malaes," Yesdar said, his voice taut, "Are you sure this is the only one? No one else suffering in this cold?"
Malaes's expression shifted, her features darkening with the weight of something unspoken. She had already known the answer before Yesdar had even asked. The intensity of her observation and gaze were sharpened by years of training. Her senses had reached out feeling the world beneath the snow and ice, tracing the faint lines of energy that crisscrossed the land like invisible threads. She betrayed a deep sadness as she spoke, her voice low and measured.
"Of course, there cannot be only one person suffering in this cold."
Yesdar's breath caught in his throat. "Then where are they? The others? Can we save them?"
Malaes's response was like a knife in the cold air, sharp and undeniable. "They are here. All around us. But you cannot save them."
Yesdar's flame flickered dangerously, his control faltering for the briefest of moments. He looked up at her, eyes wide. "Why?"
Malaes whispered, her voice carrying a weight,
"Because, they're already dead."
.....
"This land…" Malaes continued, her voice a hollow echo in the storm. "It's already a snow graveyard. There are bodies scattered all around us, buried beneath the snow and ice. This person…" she gestured to the one Yesdar was freeing from the ice, "...is the only one still alive. And even that won't last long if we don't act fast."
The storm seemed to grow quieter in that moment, as if the very world was mourning for the lost souls scattered across the land. The frozen landscape around them had become a tomb, a burial ground hidden beneath the ice and snow, claimed by the merciless cold long before they had arrived.
"Yesdar," Griswa said quietly. The order didn't need to be spoken, but it was.
Yesdar's hands trembled slightly in urgency as he concentrated on the flame, but as he focused, the flame grew brighter, the ice melting away faster now, revealing the figure of a young girl, her skin pale and blue from the cold. Her hair, vibrant cyan, was now frozen in solid strands, clinging to her face like icicles. She wore a gray jacket, worn and threadbare, a long frock beneath it that had done little to protect her from the storm's wrath. Her breathing was shallow, barely perceptible.
Griswa crouched beside her, studying her frail form. "Is the cold really this powerful?" he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.
Malaes's eyes were distant, her mind still processing the vastness of the loss around them. " We've only just arrived. We don't know how long she's been suffering… hours? Days? The cold could have taken her at any moment."
Yesdar stood, his gaze now turned toward the mountains in the distance, where the storm was gathering its strength. "The storm seems to be moving in the opposite direction from where we came. It's passing over the mountains, heading further north. That means it started here… and has been raging for a long, long time."
Griswa said nothing. He simply moved, lifting the girl into his arms with a gentleness that seemed out of place in the desolate landscape. Her small frame was weightless against his, as though the cold had already taken too much from her.
"We're taking her back to the cave," he said, his voice flat, decisive.
With that, the three of them turned and made their way back through the storm, the wind biting at them like a wounded animal. The portal shimmered into view once more, and they passed through, stepping back onto the other side. They walked back and entered the cave they had left before.
Inside, the cave felt almost unnervingly quiet, the fire that Yesdar had lit now, casted flickering shadows on the walls. The girl's breathing was faint but steady now, her body still wrapped in the cold. Griswa laid her down carefully near the back of the cave, away from the entrance where the cold wind still seeped in. The fire crackled softly, its warmth spreading slowly through the wide space.
Griswa took out his glasses from the pocket of his coat and wiped the frost from them with the sleeve of his coat. He put them back again, hiding his eyes as he looked at the girl. With a quiet resolve, he removed his ornate coat and draped it over her fragile frame, its warmth a small comfort against the cold that had nearly claimed her.
The night dragged on with the storm outside showing no sign of calming. The wind howled, a voice that carried the chill of death itself, rattling against the rocks like some ancient, malevolent force. It swept across the land with reckless abandon, howling through the mountains, persistent in its pursuit of silence. The three of them could easily press forward through it—such trivial things like cold and storm meant little to them now. But the girl, the fragile soul they had rescued, was not so fortunate. She clung to life by a thin thread, and it was their duty to ensure that thread wasn't severed.
Malaes sat close to the girl, her expression tense with focus as she worked with quiet efficiency. The girl's pulse was faint but steady, a fragile rhythm in the face of creation's unforgiving savagery. Heated stones, wrapped in cloth, pressed against her chest and neck to draw warmth back into her body. Malaes checked her pulse repeatedly, her fingers tracing the girl's cold skin with care, measuring every breath as if her own resolve could will the girl to survive.
Yesdar added his ornate coat to the makeshift bedding, layering it carefully to shield her further from the cold. He could still feel the ice that had once encased her, the frost that had clung to her like a deathly veil. He noticed, ice had hardened on his coat's sleeve. He now understood, the extreme winds formed into ice and sealed her inside that frozen tomb. He glanced over at the fires—two now, both burning steadily, their warmth spreading through the cave. He had lit them carefully, one after the other, ensuring that heat would surround her from every direction.
Griswa stood at the mouth of the cave, eyes narrowed as he watched the storm rage outside. His breath was slow, controlled, his body motionless as the wind howled and roared like an evil devil, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts drifted back to another storm—one from what felt like a lifetime ago.
It had been during the Shiyahval Heist. The rain had come down in torrents, a storm of an entirely different nature, but no less aggressive. He had saved Yesdar and Malaes that night, pulling them from the clutches of a failed mission. They had escaped by the skin of their teeth, carried away by Malaes' dragon, Silyahun, soaring through the downpour back to the rebels' caves where Malaes' father, Sivera, had led his defiant band of outcasts. Those caves had been their home for a time—brief, but meaningful. That storm, like this one, had been a force of nature they could not control, but had to endure.
But this wasn't a rainstorm. The cold here was different, more sinister. It wasn't simply a test of endurance—it was a bow to demise, as if the very air around them carried the intent to suffocate anything too weak to fight it.
Griswa sighed as the memory faded, his gaze returning to the present. The cold continued coldly cold-hearted and calm-less. He hoped, somewhere in the depths of his thoughts, that it would calm by morning.
Behind him, the fire crackled softly, the warmth of the flames in stark contrast to the frozen world just beyond the cave's threshold. Yesdar, kneeling near the girl, looked up from his task, catching Malaes' eye as she continued her vigil over the girl's frail body.
"When I scanned this area," Malaes began, her voice steady but thoughtful, "I felt the energies of living people."
Yesdar tilted his head, listening intently. He remained silent, sensing there was more she wanted to say.
"It suggests… there's a village or a city nearby. Maybe several villages," Malaes continued. "She might belong to one of them."
Yesdar nodded, his eyes narrowing as he considered her words. "We'll drop her at her home village, then," he said simply. "And continue on our way."
Malaes met his gaze, the weight of the night reflected in her expression. Yesdar's calm certainty seemed to steady her, and she offered a small nod in return.
"Malaes," Yesdar said, his voice soft, "your observation skills have grown a lot."
Malaes looked up at him, surprised for a moment. There was a pause before Yesdar continued. "We saved a life tonight," he said slowly. "We don't even know her, but… we saved her. The moment we return to OUR world, the second thing we see is death? But even amidst all that death…" He trailed off, eyes lowering to the unconscious girl, wrapped tightly in their coats. "We could still save someone. It suggests that there are endless possibilities, it's not just us who don't give up."
Malaes watched him closely, her gaze softening. "True. There still might be people who may just lack power, but not resolve."
Yesdar chuckled quietly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "It's the opposite with Fheniz, though. He's got the power… but lacks the resolve."
Malaes let out a small laugh, though there was a trace of melancholy in it. "I've tried to convince him," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I tried so many times, right up until the last moment. But he kept refusing. I don't know when—if ever—he'll change his mind and accept the world that's waiting for him."
Yesdar's smile faded slightly as he considered her words. He didn't disagree. "I don't blame him," he said at last. "He wants a free world, but if he can't have it, he won't accept it. His decision to fight—or not fight—for that world is the thing HE wants to choose."
Malaes lowered her gaze, her voice quiet now. "But… you can't have a free world if you don't make it free yourself."
"Yes," Yesdar said softly. "But it's not just that. He doesn't care about a world that shattered his own. That's what holds him back. That's why he won't return."
There was a long pause after that, the crackling of the fire filling the silence between them. The wind outside continued its savage assault, but inside the cave, it felt as if the world had been paused, locked in a moment of quiet reflection. Malaes, deep in thought, said nothing more, her mind no doubt lingering on the complexities of Fheniz's choices, his battles, and the path that lay ahead for them all.
But then, a small sound drew her attention. The girl stirred, her body shifting slightly beneath the layers of coats and cloth that surrounded her. Malaes blinked, her focus returning as she realized what was happening.
"Hey," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "She's waking up."
Yesdar's head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly as he realized the truth of her words. The girl's eyelids fluttered, her breathing becoming more regular, more steady.
"Oi, Griswa!" Malaes called out, her voice louder now. "She's waking up!"
Griswa, who had been standing near the entrance, turned at the sound of Malaes' voice. He walked further into the cave, stepping closer to the firelight, his silhouette casting long shadows on the stone walls as he approached. He moved without hurry, but there was a shift in his demeanor—a quiet intensity, an awareness of the gravity of the moment.
The girl's eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first. Her vision was blurred, her mind still struggling to make sense of her surroundings. She blinked, trying to clear her head, and as her sight came into focus, the first thing she saw was the fire burning in front of her. Its light flickered and danced in the reflection of her wide, glassy eyes, pulling her further from the edge of unconsciousness.
Her gaze shifted slightly, and she saw that she was sitting between two strangers. On one side was Malaes, whose eyes watched her closely, almost maternally, while Yesdar sat on the other side, offering a warm smile despite the cold air that still clung to them.
Beyond the fire, she saw a third figure. Griswa sat down across from her, wiping his glasses carefully with his shirt, his expression calm but unreadable. As her eyes focused on him, she saw something that made her breath catch in her throat. His eyes—those eyes—glowed faintly with eleven different colors, hues shifting and blending together in a way that was both mesmerizing and otherworldly. She felt her heart quicken, a strange, unnamable feeling blooming inside her.
For a moment, all she felt was hope. And something else—something darker, deeper. A kind of satisfaction she couldn't place. It was as though those eyes held within them the commitment of something far beyond her perception, a glimpse of something that both frightened and fascinated her.
But the moment passed, and her vision cleared. She blinked again, the world sharpening into focus as she came back to her senses. The cold still clung to her body, and she shivered involuntarily, her eyes darting to the faces of the strangers who had rescued her.
"Kokoroma Yorotomona? Noi?" she asked, her voice soft but melodic, her words unfamiliar to them. Her tone, however, was sweet, and it carried with it a kind of innocent curiosity.
Griswa, Malaes, and Yesdar blinked, unsure how to respond. Sweatdrops seemed to form on the backs of their heads, an anime sign of their collective confusion. 💧
"Huh?" Griswa muttered.
"What?" Malaes echoed.
"Noi?" Yesdar repeated, his tone matching the girl's, but the confusion clear on his face. 🤣🤣
The girl looked at them expectantly, clearly awaiting a reply. When none came, she tilted her head slightly, her expression both puzzled and patient.
"Mashi-mashi akarem tanara? Noi?" she continued, her tone just as gentle, her voice as musical as before. But the trio still couldn't make sense of her words.
Griswa's expression didn't change. "Huh?" he said again.
Malaes shook her head. "What?"
Yesdar, his face growing funnier by the second, simply repeated, "Noi?"
🤣🤣
The girl's confusion grew, though she didn't seem frightened. Her eyes, still somewhat dazed from the cold and the ordeal she had endured, drifted once again toward Griswa. She found herself staring into his eyes once more, those eleven colors swirling like distant stars.
"Your eyes…" she whispered, her voice soft, as if the words themselves were fragile. "They're beautiful. There's hope in the darkness… and darkness in the hope."
Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before drifting away, leaving the trio once again lost in their collective confusion.
Griswa blinked, then glanced at Yesdar and Malaes.
They once again repeated,
"HUH?!"
"WHAT?!"
"NOI?!"
With even funnier faces in utter confusion. 🤣🤣🤣
"She spoke in the common tongue but I still didn't understand a single word!" Said Yesdar in a funnily funny tone with a funnily funny face. 🤣🤣
"Griswa?" Malaes said slowly, her voice uncertain. "Did she just say… your eyes are beautiful?"