The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the desolate landscape. Kael walked in silence, the weight of the medallion pressing against his chest as if it were alive. The cold gnawed at his bones, but his thoughts were elsewhere—on the cryptic words of Maerith, the masked stranger. He had escaped once, but how long would his luck hold? The Frostbound Order was patient, and they had already marked him.
The wasteland stretched endlessly in every direction. There were no signs of life, only the endless expanse of snow and ice. Even the air felt empty, as though it too had been drained of warmth and hope. Kael's feet moved automatically, his body running on instinct. He'd learned long ago that if you stopped for even a moment, the world would swallow you whole.
But his mind kept returning to the voice—the one that had haunted him for years, whispering from the corners of his thoughts. The one that seemed to know things he didn't, pushing him forward, goading him to embrace the power that lay dormant inside him.
"Soon, Kael," it whispered. "Soon, you'll understand."
"Shut up," he muttered aloud, his voice barely audible against the wind.
For a moment, there was silence. Then the voice returned, colder, more insistent.
"You cannot hide from it. You know this."
Kael clenched his jaw, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword. The frost magic that lived within him had always been a curse—something he had never asked for, never wanted. But he couldn't deny its power. The black ice coursing through his veins had saved his life more times than he cared to count. And yet, the more he used it, the more it consumed him, the more he became something else. Something dangerous.
He could feel it now, stirring within him. A hunger, a pull toward something greater. The medallion in his pack seemed to burn with an unnatural warmth, like it too was calling to him.
"Damn it," he muttered, pushing the thoughts aside. There was no time for distractions. He had to keep moving.
The wind picked up, howling across the snow, and the faint scent of smoke reached Kael's nose. It was distant, but it was there. His instincts flared. Fire. Someone, or something, was nearby.
Kael's eyes narrowed. This far out in the wasteland, fire was a rarity. A sign of life. Or a trap.
He moved cautiously toward the scent, his senses sharp, every muscle coiled in anticipation. The snow crunched under his boots as he neared the source, and then, through the haze of the storm, he saw it—a flicker of light in the distance.
A campfire.
Kael's hand instinctively went to his sword again, but he forced himself to remain calm. It could be anyone—another traveler, a hunter, or worse. He approached the fire with slow, deliberate steps, keeping to the shadows as he circled around the clearing.
What he found wasn't what he expected.
A figure sat by the fire, their silhouette outlined by the flickering flames. They were alone, their back to him, wrapped in a thick, fur-lined cloak. A sword lay across their lap, and a small pot of something was steaming beside them.
Kael watched for a moment, his hand still on the hilt of his sword, but something about the scene made him pause. The figure didn't seem to notice him, lost in their thoughts, their face hidden by the hood of their cloak.
Then the figure spoke, their voice cutting through the wind like a blade.
"You can stop hiding. I can feel you watching."
Kael's heart skipped a beat. He froze, every muscle tensing, his eyes narrowing as he stepped out of the shadows.
The figure turned, and for the first time, Kael saw her face.
She was young, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the firelight. Her dark hair was braided in intricate patterns, and her skin was pale, almost as if it had never seen sunlight. She studied Kael for a long moment, her gaze steady, unafraid.
"Not the most subtle, are we?" she said with a hint of amusement.
Kael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied her, his guard still up. She didn't look like a bandit or a member of the Frostbound Order, but appearances could be deceiving.
"What are you doing out here?" Kael finally asked, his voice low and cautious.
She smiled slightly, as if amused by the question. "Surviving. Same as you, I imagine." She gestured toward the fire. "Care to join me? It's not much, but it's better than freezing to death."
Kael hesitated. He didn't trust easily, especially not in a place like this. But the warmth of the fire was tempting, and he hadn't slept in days. He needed to rest.
Slowly, he moved closer, his eyes never leaving her. He took a seat across from her, keeping enough distance to feel safe, but close enough to feel the heat of the fire on his face.
She didn't say anything at first, just poking at the fire with a stick. The silence between them stretched, but Kael wasn't sure what to say. There was something unsettling about her—something he couldn't quite place.
"You're far from home," she said, breaking the silence. "What's your name?"
"Kael," he replied, his voice guarded.
She nodded. "Kael. Strange name for a wanderer. Most people have one, you know—something to hold onto. A place, a purpose. What's yours?"
Kael glanced at her sharply. "What do you want from me?"
She didn't flinch at his tone. "Nothing. Just curious. I know what it's like to be alone out here."
Her words struck a chord with him. Kael looked down at his hands, remembering the time before all of this—the time before the curse, before the endless nights of running.
"So," she continued, her voice softening, "what's chasing you?"
Kael's eyes shot up, his gaze hardening. "You don't know anything about me."
She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I know enough. I've seen the signs. The way you carry yourself. The way you move. You're not just running from the cold, are you?"
Kael gritted his teeth, but he didn't answer. There was something about this woman—her calm, her quiet knowing—that unnerved him. She was too perceptive, too aware.
The silence stretched again, but this time, Kael felt the weight of her gaze on him. He didn't know why, but something inside him urged him to speak.
"There's no escaping it," he said quietly, his voice thick with frustration. "The power inside me. It's all-consuming. I don't know how much longer I can keep it under control."
The woman's expression softened, and for the first time, Kael saw something in her eyes—sympathy.
"Power can be a curse," she said gently. "But it doesn't have to define you. You're not the only one carrying a burden."
Kael looked up sharply, meeting her gaze. There was something in her words, something familiar, but he couldn't place it.
"I don't need your sympathy," he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.
She didn't respond. Instead, she reached into her pack and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth. She handed it to him.
"Eat. You'll need your strength if you plan on surviving what's coming."
Kael stared at the bundle for a moment before taking it. He didn't trust her, not completely, but the hunger gnawing at his stomach made the decision for him. He unwrapped it and began to eat in silence, the fire crackling between them.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the voice whispered again, cold and insistent.
"It's not over yet, Kael. Not by a long shot."