I ran.
Every muscle in my body screamed in protest. The cold had turned my lungs to ice, each breath burning like I'd swallowed shards of glass. My feet, numb and clumsy, stumbled through the deep snow as the wolves closed in.
Ahead of me, Torsten and Joran moved like men who'd survived this wasteland for years. Behind me, Hask's labored breathing punctuated the air with white clouds of vapor.
"Keep moving!" Torsten shouted over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the howling wind.
The makeshift eye covering restricted my vision to a narrow strip, just enough to follow the others' tracks without going snow-blind. But it also meant I couldn't see the wolves properly—just dark shapes in my peripheral vision, drawing closer with each passing second.
"They're flanking us!" I yelled, spotting movement to our left.
Joran veered right without hesitation, leading us toward a steeper section. Smart—the wolves would have to fight gravity and unstable footing.
A wolf howled behind us—closer now, much closer.
"Fuck this," Hask growled, and I heard him stop running.
I glanced back. The big man had turned to face our pursuers, knife drawn and legs planted wide in the snow. Three wolves approached him cautiously, their blue eyes luminous against their white fur.
"Hask, don't!" Torsten called.
Too late. The first wolf lunged, and Hask swiped with his blade. He caught it across the muzzle, drawing a spray of dark blood that steamed in the cold air. The wolf yelped and retreated, but the others circled, looking for openings.
Joran stopped, nocking an arrow to his bow. "Keep going," he told me and Torsten. "I'll cover him."
Torsten hesitated for a split second, then grabbed my arm. "Move."
"But—"
"Now!"
He dragged me forward as Joran loosed his first arrow. I heard a yelp of pain, then Hask's triumphant roar as he buried his knife in something solid.
We crested the rise, and the settlement came into clearer view—still distant, but close enough to make out a thread of smoke that rose from somewhere inside the walls.
"They might not open the gates," Torsten said, his voice tight. "Not with wolves on our heels."
"Then we're dead," I replied, stating the obvious.
He shot me a grim look. "Not necessarily."
Something in his tone made my skin crawl. Before I could question him, a scream ripped through the air behind us—high-pitched and agonized. Human.
Torsten didn't look back. "Keep moving."
"Who was that?"
"Doesn't matter."
Another scream, cut short this time. I risked a glance over my shoulder. Through my narrow field of vision, I could make out Joran sprinting toward us, wolves at his heels. Hask was nowhere to be seen.
"Hask is down," I said.
Torsten's pace didn't falter. "Then we're three."
The cold detachment in his voice told me everything I needed to know about how he valued human life—even that of his companions.
Joran caught up to us, breathing hard. Blood spattered his coat, and his quiver was empty. "Six of them down," he gasped. "Rest still coming."
"Settlement's our only chance," Torsten said. "They've got archers on the walls."
We ran onward, the sounds of pursuit growing louder behind us. My legs felt like lead, each step more difficult than the last. The cold had penetrated deep into my muscles, making them sluggish and unresponsive. My vision narrowed, the edges growing dim.
Don't pass out. Don't pass out.
A howl sounded to our right—much closer than it should have been. The wolves had split their pack, sending a group to cut us off.
Ahead, the settlement's wooden palisade loomed larger. We were maybe five hundred meters away now. I could make out figures moving along the top of the wall—people pointing in our direction.
"They see us," Torsten said. "But they won't open the gates until the last second. If at all."
A wolf burst from behind a snowdrift to our left, lunging directly at me. I threw myself sideways, landing hard in the deep snow. The wolf sailed past, missing me by inches. Before it could turn for another attack, Joran drove his hunting knife into its throat.
"Get up!" he shouted, yanking me to my feet.
More wolves emerged from the whiteness, encircling us. We stood back to back, Torsten and Joran with blades drawn, me with nothing.
"We're not going to make it to the settlement," Torsten said, his voice steady despite our dire situation. "Not all of us."
"What's the plan?" Joran asked.
Torsten was quiet for a beat too long. "Someone has to draw them off."
The wolves edged closer, their movements coordinated and patient. These weren't mindless predators—they were calculating, intelligent.
"I'll do it," Joran volunteered immediately.
"No." Torsten's gaze fixed on me. "He will."
My blood froze. "You're sacrificing me."
"You're the slave," he said simply. "Your life for ours."
The wolves were ten meters away now, forming a tightening circle. Shit. They knew we were trapped.
"Fuck you," I said to Torsten. "I'm not dying for you."
"You don't have a choice." He raised his blade, not toward the wolves, but toward me. "Either run that way"—he nodded toward the open plain—"or I'll gut you myself and throw you to them."
"Uncle," Joran said, looking shocked. "We can't—"
"Shut up!" Torsten snapped. "This is how it has to be."
The wolves crept closer. One of them—larger than the others with a scar across its muzzle—seemed to be directing the others with subtle movements. The pack leader.
I glanced between Torsten's blade and the wolves, weighing my options. Running would mean certain death. Fighting Torsten would likely end the same way. I needed a third option.
My gaze fell on the snow beneath our feet. In our panic, we'd trampled it down, revealing patches of what looked like ice underneath. An idea formed—desperate, probably suicidal, but better than nothing.
"Fine," I said, raising my hands. "I'll draw them off."
Torsten nodded, satisfied. "Smart choice."
"Just one thing first."
"What?"
I dropped to my knees and drove my fist into the packed snow as hard as I could. It broke through, revealing what I'd suspected—we were standing on a frozen pond or stream, the ice thin enough to crack under pressure.
"What are you doing?" Joran asked, alarmed.
I punched the ice again. A spiderweb of cracks spread outward. The wolves hesitated, sensing the danger.
"Stop!" Torsten lunged for me, but it was too late.
I brought both fists down one final time, and the ice gave way with a sound like a gunshot. Water surged upward, soaking my arms to the elbows. The cold was so intense it felt like fire.
The wolves backed away, whining nervously. The ice continued to crack beneath us, spreading outward from the hole I'd made.
"Run!" I shouted, scrambling to my feet. "Now!"
I didn't wait to see if they followed. I sprinted toward the settlement, weaving around patches of ice that looked thin. Behind me, I heard splashing and cursing as Torsten and Joran tried to navigate the treacherous surface.
A wolf howled in panic—one had fallen through. The others scattered, their coordinated attack dissolving into chaos.
The settlement was closer now, maybe two hundred meters. My hands throbbed with pain from the freezing water, and my wet sleeves had already begun to stiffen with ice. If I didn't reach shelter soon, frostbite would claim my fingers.
A shout from behind made me glance back. Torsten had fallen through the ice up to his waist. Joran was trying to pull him out, but the ice kept breaking under his weight. Wolves circled them at a safe distance, waiting.
Karmas a bitch, huh?
These men had just tried to sacrifice me. They deserved whatever fate awaited them.
But Joran had saved me from the wolf. And without them, my chances of reaching the Temple of Echoes dropped significantly.
Damn it.
I turned back, looking for something to help. Nothing but snow and ice. Then I spotted Torsten's pack, which he'd dropped in his struggle. I grabbed it and hurried to the edge of the solid ice.
"Joran!" I called. "Catch!"
I threw him the pack. He caught it one-handed, his other still gripping Torsten's arm.
"The strap," I said. "Use it to pull him out."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. He looped the strap around Torsten's wrist, then backed away to solid ground before pulling. Slowly, Torsten emerged from the freezing water.
The wolves were growing bolder again, edging closer now that their prey was disabled. Torsten couldn't stand—his lower body was already showing signs of hypothermia.
"We need to move!" I shouted.
Joran hoisted Torsten onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. "Go! Clear a path!"
I ran ahead, scanning for the safest route across the ice. Behind us, the wolves had returned to their coordinated attack pattern, led by the scarred alpha.
The gates of the settlement were visible now—massive wooden doors set into the palisade. Figures lined the top of the wall, watching our approach. I waved my arms frantically.
"Help! Open the gates!"
For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then one of the figures raised a horn to their lips, and a deep, resonant note echoed across the plain. The gates began to swing open.
Yes, we're going to make it!
A snarling mass of white fur burst from my right—the alpha wolf, cutting off my path. I skidded to a stop, nearly losing my balance on the slick ground.
Behind me, Joran shouted a warning. More wolves were closing in, sensing their prey was cornered.
I backed away slowly, searching for an escape route. The gates were open now, tantalizingly close, but the alpha stood between me and safety.
An arrow whistled through the air, striking the snow beside the alpha. It didn't hit the wolf, but the message was clear—a warning shot from the settlement's walls.
The alpha hesitated, glancing toward the source of the arrow. In that moment of distraction, I bolted, making a wide arc around the wolf toward the gates.
It recovered quickly, lunging after me with supernatural speed. I felt its hot breath on my back, heard the snap of jaws inches from my legs.
Another arrow flew, this one finding its mark in the wolf's shoulder. It yelped but didn't slow.
Ten meters from the gates. Five.
Something heavy slammed into my back, sending me sprawling face-first into the snow. The alpha had caught me. I rolled, throwing up my arms to protect my throat as massive jaws descended.
A third arrow struck the wolf in the neck. It staggered, snarling in pain and rage. Before it could recover, a spear flashed through the air, piercing its side. The wolf collapsed, twitching.
Hands grabbed me, dragging me toward the gates. I caught a glimpse of my rescuer—a woman with fierce eyes and a face framed by dark hair. She hauled me to my feet with surprising strength.
"Move!"
I stumbled through the gates, collapsing onto the packed earth inside. Joran followed moments later, still carrying Torsten. The gates swung shut behind us with a resounding boom.
Safe. We were safe.
I rolled onto my back, gasping for breath. Above me, the woman who'd saved me leaned down, studying my face with narrowed eyes.
"That was stupid," she said. "Crossing the ice plains with wolves on the hunt."
Up close, I could see that her eyes were an unusual shade—almost violet in the winter light. Her dark hair was intricately braided and adorned with small beads of bone or ivory. A tattoo of intricate lines traced the edge of her jaw, disappearing beneath the high collar of her fur coat.
"Wasn't exactly by choice," I managed between breaths.
She snorted. "There's always a choice." Her gaze shifted to Torsten, limp in Joran's arms. "Your friend won't last long without treatment. The cold's in his blood now."
I sat up, wincing at the various pains making themselves known throughout my body. "He's not my friend."
"No?" Her eyebrow arched. "Then what is he?"
I met her gaze steadily. "My captor."
Something like understanding flickered in her violet eyes. She glanced at Joran, who was lowering Torsten to the ground with gentle care.
"Interesting," she murmured. Then, louder: "I'm Laina. Welcome to Visall." She extended her hand. "Let's get you all inside before you join the corpse-walkers."