Page 171 of Season Warriors & Wolves

From the sturdy walls frozen figures protruded, petrified from the saltiness of the rock and the cold atmosphere of the cave.

“They must have never realised,” Mal said, waving the torch around to illuminate each and every one of them while we passed through. “Came here to hide from the cold only to be deceived by it. There is still fear lingering around them, but they didn’t die from fear or with fear.”

Thora grabbed onto his sleeve, her hold tight while she closed the distance between them until her arm was brushing his. She wasn’t scared. Not for herself at least considering the way she carefully glanced at Mal.

Cold wind blasted around us as we exited the tunnel, howling and sharp. Where once stood a proud Isjordian village, remained only a graveyard sunken six feet down in snow. The only thing still visible was only the temple, protected with dark craft.

The veil was still there. The memories it had induced once were still fresh in my mind. Luckily, we deviated around it, to a stray selection of hidden tunnels under Krig’s statue. Oryn’s map had cut our search to a couple of minutes, and before we knew it, only a wooden gate creaking from the billowing wind separated us from the other part of old Isea.

Mal pushed the door open, the lock easily giving away. The howling wind of the true norths blasted right into our faces and plastered about a layer of frost on my poor skin that would need some long recovery from it.

The moment I gained footing on the dense snow beyond the door, I lost my sight along the mile long white canvas that appeared to have no end and no start. A thin field stretched ahead, shielded all over by tall mountains disappearing between thick white skies.

Thora followed shortly besides us, not at all bothered by the cold, the wind or the thick snow. By nothing actually. She let a thin layer of wind wrap around and shield us from the harsh environment.

“No magic, bird.”

“You want to die? Besides, it’s barely anything and we aren’t using it against anyone.”

Mal threw me a side glare. “Did she have to come?”

My sister huffed and then reduced the wind bubble to wrap only around me and her, leaving Mal in the blistering wind. That reminded me why I’d asked her to come.

“Fine!” he howled, clenching his jaw tight from the cold. “Fine.”

“If I wasn’t so nice, Malik,” she said, extending it again to cover him too. “You would have been a pretty nice ice sculpture.”

With Thora clearing our path from the foot tall snow and Mal directing us toward where he could feel life, we headed inside the heart of Islines—what remained from old Isea.

I was the moral support companion. And for the first time, maybe a silent companion because I had done and said nothing as I stood between the bickering two. They had not stopped. Jabs after jabs, insulting every inch of each other’s looks down to Thora’s apparently crooked small toe. Which my sister seemed to be particularly sensitive about because she almost knocked him unconscious with a slap. Mal had laughed and that seemed to set her off worse. Now they had fallen silent, shooting one another a taunting look from time to time as if to see who will crack first.

Like Eren had said, Islines were full of odd life. The creatures were some of the ugliest, but they had remained quiet, in a rogue path ahead and unbothered by anything around them. A herd of some feathery looking sheep with no eyes had even accompanied us for a part of our trip. Not even acknowledging us, yet also being aware of our presence. Even the frost covered trees breathed with life, twisting in our direction when we went past them. Watching and observing like everything else around.

Something caught on my foot and I stumbled forward, almost face planting the white ground had Mal not caught me. I felt liquid soak the insides of my leathers and then a fresh sting on my flesh. There was a slash across my boots that had borne the impact of whatever almost cut off my leg. “Fuck, that hurts.” Why was everything hurting more these days? Was it age? Was twenty-five the end of it all?

Mal bent down and surveyed my leg, tearing parts of his undershirt to wrap around my calf. “Dispel the snow, little bird. Something is hiding under it,” he said calmly, surveying our surroundings while putting the last knot on the makeshift bandage. “You alright?”

“Just a little cut.”

He looked up at me. “Yeah, he’ll still kill me.”

Thora did as told without hesitation, lifting tons of snow in the air and dispelling it to create a mile radius of barren rock around us. “Nothing.”

“I would have felt a presence, Mal,” I said, attempting to set my foot down. “It must have been a rock or—”

He put a finger to his mouth, slowly standing. His sword was in his hand and slashing forward before I could blink twice. Where once stood nothing but air, a shape materialised, turning visible and dropping to the ground. The remains were not human. Not quite a monster either. A mangled, thin shape made of several arms and legs with a ghastly head in the middle.

“Seven hells, that is one ugly creature.”

Mal shot me a stunned look. “It has feelings. Feelings you can hurt.”

“Apologise for killing it then I’ll apologise for hurting its feelings.”

Thora jerked forward as if she’d been kicked and landed on the ground, groaning and clutching her side.

Mal faded right beside her, helping her up and wrapping a hand around her waist. “Up, my queen,” he teased. “Or Kilian will have my precious dick served to street dogs.”

I pushed myself up, lifting my sword towards…well, nothing. “I can’t feel any presence. No heartbeat. Nothing is disturbing the wind. Or the electricity.”