The morning was grim and silent, frost creeping over the rocks as the last embers of our campfire sputtered out. Snow blanketed the ground, its pristine surface disguising the treacherous ice beneath. The survivors moved quietly, their breaths visible in the freezing air as they prepared for another long march. Even the wolves were subdued, their sharp eyes darting nervously as though sensing unseen dangers.
The Heartseed rested against my chest, its faint glow the only warmth in this unyielding wasteland. Despite its light, an overwhelming coldness seeped into my bones—a chill that wasn't entirely from the weather.
"We're heading deeper into unknown territory," Silvermane said, crouching beside one of her wolves. The beast sniffed the air, its ears twitching nervously. "There's something out there. Something big."
Dren tightened his grip on his blade, his breath forming a misty cloud as he spoke. "Let it come. I'm ready for anything."
