Aurora crossed the creaking bridge, her footsteps echoing in the emptiness of the night. The wind was blowing stronger, and the snow fell like a thick veil, erasing the contours of the surrounding forest. When he reached the other bank he looked back, but Old Twig was gone. Only the bridge remained, shrouded in shadow and silence.
"He was right," thought Aurora, adjusting her cloak to protect her face from the biting cold. "The danger is not just in the path... but in what we carry."
The snow began to fall more heavily, turning the trail into an indistinct blur. Aurora quickened her pace, but each movement felt like a greater effort. Her feet sank into the accumulated snow, and the wind hit her face, as if nature itself was trying to stop her.
"This isn't natural," she thought, watching the snowflakes dance in chaotic patterns around her. "This storm... it's like it's chasing me."
...
Almost without seeing ahead, Aurora noticed a silhouette appear on the horizon. As he got closer, he realized it was a house — or what was left of it. The roof was partially collapsed, and the wooden walls were covered in moss and marked by age. Despite its precarious condition, the structure seemed to offer shelter from the unforgiving weather.
She pushed the door open with effort, feeling the resistance of the rusty hinges. The inside was as gloomy as the outside, but at least the wind and snow stayed outside. An antique fireplace dominated the main room, with a rusty iron plate in the center.
Aurora walked through the space, eyes alert for any sign of threat. He found some dry branches piled in a corner and took them to the fireplace. With a gesture of his hand, he pronounced the words that came to mind like a long-learned melody:
"Ignis Vitae!"
A blue spark danced across his fingers before touching the wood. The fire grew quickly, illuminating the room with a warm, flickering light. Aurora sighed in relief, sitting by the fireplace to warm her hands.
As he watched the flames, he heard an unexpected sound—a faint croaking coming from the darkness. His eyes turned to a nearby shelf, where something small and dark was moving.
Suddenly, a frog jumped to the ground, moving with unusual grace. He wore a small red scarf wrapped around his neck and stared at her with bright, intelligent eyes.
"You brought fire to my house. How thoughtful," said the frog, his voice deep and a little hoarse.
Aurora almost fell backwards.
"You... talk?!" he stuttered, his hand instinctively reaching for a vial from his bag.
The frog jumped onto the heated iron plate near the fireplace and settled down comfortably.
"Of course I do. What else would I do? I'm Thaddeus, and you broke into my house. But I'll forgive you, since you brought the heat."
He scratched his chin with his front paw, a surprisingly human gesture, before continuing:
"What about you? Who are you? Some witch in training? Or just one of those stubborn adventurers who thinks they can survive in the ancient forests?"
Aurora blinked, still trying to process what was before her. ''A talking frog. With scarf. Of course. After Old Twig, this shouldn't be so strange... but it still was.
She sighed, putting the bottle away, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender.
—"My name is Aurora. I'm following a map... something Isolde left me. And before you ask, I don't know exactly where it leads."
Thaddeus arched a nonexistent eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.
"Ah, Isolde. A heavy name, full of meanings. And you, girl, seem to carry more than just a map."
Aurora narrowed her eyes, leaning towards him.
"Did you know her? How do you know about Isolde?"
Thaddeus jumped a little, moving closer to the fire.
"Knew, perhaps. Heard stories, more likely. But I can say that anything connected with Isolde is never simple. She was... different."
Aurora was about to press him for more information when a sound came from outside: the crack of branches breaking in the snow. She froze, eyes fixed on the barely closed door.
—"Ah, they're here," muttered Thaddeus, with a tone of indifference.
Aurora jumped, her hand going to her bag again.
"They? Who are 'they'?"
Before Thaddeus could respond, the door was pushed hard and the cold wind invaded the room, putting out the fire for an instant. Two figures entered, tall and thin, their forms distorted by the flickering light. Its fur was grayish and its pointed ears bobbed with movement. Its little eyes were almost invisible, like empty slits.
Thaddeus sighed.
"Ah, the Watchers. Always so nasty. Looks like you brought more than fire, Aurora."
Aurora held a vial tightly, her muscles tense as the Watchers slowly advanced.
"What do they want?" she asked, without taking her eyes off the creatures.
Thaddeus shrugged, a gesture so casual it seemed like an insult to the gravity of the situation.
"It's not what they want, it's what you carry. And believe me, they won't stop until they get it."
Aurora felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn't because of the cold. The weight of the map in his pocket felt denser, more real, as if it were gently pulsing.
"So what do I do now?"
Thaddeus smiled, his eyes shining in the light of the flames.
"You fight... or you run. But either way, I would recommend speed."
Aurora took a deep breath, adjusting the weight of the dagger in her hand.
"What wonderful advice," her murmured, preparing himself for what would come next.