I stared at Laina's extended hand, then at Torsten's limp form. The storm inside me grew with each passing second. My fingers curled into fists as memories flashed through my mind—Torsten's blade pointed at my chest, his cold words.
You're the slave. Your life for ours.
"Get him inside," Laina called to someone behind her. Two men hurried forward with a makeshift stretcher for Torsten. Joran hovered nearby, his face etched with concern.
"Uncle," he murmured, reaching for Torsten's frozen hand.
Something snapped inside me.
"Don't touch him," I said, my voice dangerously quiet.
Joran looked up, surprised. "What?"
"I said, don't fucking touch him." I stepped between him and Torsten's stretcher. "You don't get to play the concerned nephew now."
Joran straightened, wariness replacing concern. "Isaiah—"
"He tried to feed me to the wolves, and you stood there and let him."
The settlement folk paused in their work, sensing the tension. Laina's eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation.
"This isn't the place," Joran said, glancing around at our audience.
"No?" I laughed, a hollow sound that scratched my throat raw. "When is the place, Joran? After he wakes up and you both pretend it never happened?"
"He was trying to save us—"
"By sacrificing me!" I stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of green in his gray eyes. "You know what's funny? I came back for you both. I could've kept running when you fell through the ice."
Guilt flashed across Joran's face. "I know."
"Really? Because I'm starting to think none of you see me as human."
One of the settlement men cleared his throat. "We need to get him inside now, or he won't make it."
"Go," I said, stepping aside. "Save the man who was ready to gut me like a fish."
Joran hesitated, torn between following his uncle and addressing my rage. The stretcher bearers didn't wait—they carried Torsten toward the largest building in the settlement.
"I'll deal with this," Laina told Joran. "Go with your uncle."
After Joran reluctantly followed the stretcher, Laina turned to me. "Come. You need warmth and food too."
"I'm not going anywhere near him."
She sighed. "There's only one healing house in Visall. But it's big enough that you won't have to look at him."
My legs felt suddenly unsteady. The adrenaline that had carried me through the chase was ebbing, leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision.
"Fine," I muttered.
Laina led me through the settlement—a collection of sturdy wooden buildings reinforced with stone, all connected by cleared pathways through the snow. People stopped to stare as we passed.
The healing house was warm, almost uncomfortably so after the biting cold outside. The main room held several beds, most empty. Torsten occupied one in the far corner, surrounded by people working to save him.
Laina directed me to a bed on the opposite side of the room. "Sit. I'll get you something hot to drink."
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my muscles screaming in protest. The room tilted slightly, and I gripped the wooden frame to steady myself.
A small, elderly woman approached with a steaming mug. "Drink this. All of it."
The liquid was bitter and herbal, but warmth spread through my chest as I swallowed. By the time I finished, Joran had appeared at my bedside.
"Don't," I warned, setting the mug aside.
"I need to explain."
"Explain what? That my life means less than yours? Than his?" I jerked my head toward Torsten's bed. "I already got that message."
Joran's jaw tightened. "It wasn't like that."
"No? Tell me how it was, then."
"He panicked. We all did. The wolves—"
"Save it." I stood, ignoring the way the room swayed. "I've spent my whole life dealing with people like him."
"That's not who he is."
"I don't care who he is! I care what he did!" My voice rose, drawing stares. "He was going to kill me, Joran. Not the wolves—him."
"He wouldn't have—"
"You don't know that."
Silence fell between us. Across the room, the healers worked over Torsten's still form.
"How is he?" I finally asked, not because I cared, but because I needed to know if I'd lost my guide to the Temple.
"Bad. The cold..." Joran ran a hand through his hair. "They're not sure if he'll survive."
Part of me felt vindicated. Another part, the part I hated right now, felt a pang of sympathy.
"Isaiah." Joran's voice dropped lower. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped him."
"Yeah. You should have."
"If you want to leave once he's stable—"
"And go where?" I laughed bitterly. "Back to the wolves? Besides, I still need to reach the Temple."
Movement from Torsten's bed caught my attention. The old man's eyes had opened, and he was weakly trying to sit up. The healers pushed him back down, but his gaze had found mine across the room.
"He's asking for you," one of the healers called.
"Tell him to go to hell."
I turned away, suddenly dizzy. The room spun around me, black spots expanding in my vision. I heard Joran call my name, felt hands catch me as my knees buckled.
Then darkness.
***
I woke to the smell of wood smoke and the distant sound of voices. My face pressed against coarse fabric, and beneath it, something that wasn't the frozen ground I'd last remembered. Pain radiated from everywhere at once – my hands worst of all, throbbing with each heartbeat like twin beacons of agony.
For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, taking inventory. I was alive. That was something.
I cracked one eye open. Rough-hewn timber beams stretched across a low ceiling. A small fire crackled in a stone hearth nearby, casting dancing shadows against the walls. I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as every muscle screamed in protest.
"Shit," I hissed through clenched teeth, forcing myself upright despite the pain.
The blanket covering me fell away, revealing my bare chest. Bruises bloomed across my ribs in purple-black constellations. Both hands were wrapped in thick bandages, the fabric already showing spots of blood seeping through. Punching through ice hadn't been my brightest moment, but it had kept me alive.
"Finally awake, stranger?"
I whipped my head toward the voice. Laina sat on a wooden stool near the fire, sharpening an arrow. Her dark hair hung loose now, framing a face both beautiful and dangerous.
"How long was I out?"
"A few hours." She tested the arrow's point with her thumb. "Your friends are still in the healing house. Torsten might live, might not. The younger one hasn't left his side."
"They're not my friends," I said.
"So you mentioned." She set the arrow aside and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "The question is, if they're not your friends, what are they? Merchandise don't usually risk their lives coming back for their slavers."
I glanced around the small room, taking in details I'd missed at first. Bundles of dried herbs hung from the rafters. A bow stood propped in one corner beside a quiver of arrows. The walls were decorated with intricate carvings – protective symbols, if I had to guess.
"Where exactly am I?" I asked, buying time.
"My home." She gestured vaguely. "In Visall. You didn't answer my question."
I flexed my bandaged hands, wincing. "Got a name for these wrappings?"
"Winterroot poultice. Draws out the cold, prevents frostbite." Her eyes narrowed. "You're changing the subject."
"Just making conversation." I gave her my best attempt at a charming smile, though I suspected it looked more like a grimace given the circumstances.
She didn't smile back. "Who are you? Really? You're not from Frostfall. Your accent, your manner – everything about you is wrong."
I considered my options. The truth was out of the question – who'd believe I was from another reality, thrown into a domain by some cosmic entity? But I needed something plausible enough to explain my presence and strange behavior.
"My name is Isaiah," I said finally. "And you're right, I'm not from here."
"That much is obvious and I already know your name." She picked up another arrow, resuming her sharpening. "Where are you from, then?"
"Somewhere warm." I looked toward the fire. "Somewhere the curse hasn't reached."
That caught her attention. Her hands stilled. "There's nowhere the Winter King's curse hasn't reached. The eternal winter covers everything now."
I shook my head. "Not everything. Not yet."
"You expect me to believe there are still places where the snow doesn't fall? Where the Reflectors don't hunt?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything." I met her gaze steadily. "But it's true."
She studied me for a long moment. "And how did you end up here, in Frostfall? With slavers, no less?"
Here came the tricky part. I needed a story that would explain my presence but also give me freedom of movement. Something that would make these people help rather than hinder me.
"I had a vision," I said, injecting conviction into my voice. "Three nights in a row, the same dream. A mountain pass. A temple of white stone. A heart of frozen fire."
Laina's eyes widened fractionally.
"The Temple of Echoes," she whispered.
I nodded slowly. "In my vision, I stood before the Winter King himself. And I ended his curse."
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You? You're going to defeat the Winter King? The being that brought eternal winter to our world and creates monsters from the dead?"
"I didn't say it would be easy." I shifted on the cot, trying to find a position that didn't aggravate some injury or another. "The vision showed me the way, not the outcome."
"And these men captured you... why?"
I shrugged. "I was traveling north when they found me. I think they assumed I was just some lost traveler they could sell. I didn't correct them."
"Why not? Why let yourself be enslaved?"
"They were headed in the same direction I needed to go." I gestured to my bandaged hands. "Besides, I'm not exactly a fighter."
Laina stood abruptly, pacing the small room. "The Temple of Echoes is a death trap. No one who's gone there has ever succeeded."
"Someone has to be the first."
She stopped, turning to face me. "Ten years ago, the Knights of the Eternal Flame mounted an expedition to the Temple. Fifty of their best warriors, led by their grandmaster. Only three came back alive, and they never spoke of what happened there." Her eyes bored into mine. "One of those survivors was the man you were traveling with. Torsten."
Ah, so she recognized him.
"Did he recognize you?" Laina pressed. "Is that why they kept you alive?"
"No," I said truthfully. "He has no idea who I am."
She resumed pacing. "This makes no sense. Visions, distant lands untouched by winter, a stranger who thinks he can defeat the Winter King..." She shook her head. "You sound mad."
"Maybe I am." I tried to stand, grunting with the effort. "But madness might be exactly what's needed to end this curse."
My legs buckled beneath me. Laina moved with surprising speed, catching me before I hit the floor.
"Idiot," she muttered, helping me back to the cot. "Your body's still recovering from the cold. Not to mention whatever those slavers did to you before we found you."
Her hands were strong but gentle as she eased me down. Up close, I noticed more details about her – a small scar beneath her left eye, the scent of pine needles and leather, the calloused fingertips of an archer.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked as she pulled the blanket back over me.
She stepped back, crossing her arms. "I haven't decided if I am yet."
"You saved me from the wolves. Treated my injuries."
"I would have done that for anyone." She returned to her stool. "But taking you to the Temple of Echoes? That's something else entirely."
I leaned back against the wall. "I didn't ask you to take me."
"No, but you will." She picked up a half-finished arrow shaft. "No one crosses the Sorrow Range alone. Not even someone with visions."
She wasn't wrong. From what little I knew of this world, traveling alone through a monster-infested winter wasteland would be suicide.
"You know the way?" I asked.
"To the Temple? Yes." She began wrapping sinew around the arrow's notch. "My father was one of the Knights who went there ten years ago."
"One of the ones who didn't come back."
She nodded, her expression hardening. "My father believed the Temple held the key to ending the curse. He gave his life trying to find it."
I watched her work, the practiced movements of her hands as she prepared her arrows. There was more to her story – I could feel it in the tension that radiated from her, in the way her jaw clenched when she mentioned her father.
"I'm sorry about your father," I said.
She didn't look up. "I don't need your pity."
"It's not pity. It's recognition." I shifted, trying to ease the ache in my ribs. "Losing a parent changes you."
That made her glance up. "You sound like you speak from experience."
"I do." No need to lie about that part.
We fell into silence for a while. I listened to the crackling of the fire, the distant sounds of the settlement outside – voices calling, wood being chopped. Normal sounds that seemed out of place in this cursed, frozen world.
"If I did agree to guide you," Laina said eventually, "what would you offer in return?"
"What do you want?"
Her eyes met mine. "I want to know what happened to my father. I want to finish what he started."
"You want to come into the Temple with me."
"Yes."
I considered this. Having a guide who knew the terrain would be invaluable. Someone who could use a bow wouldn't hurt either. But bringing her into the Temple itself... that might complicate things.
Then again, what choice did I have?
"Alright," I said. "We go together. All the way."
She studied me for a long moment, as if trying to peer into my soul. "There's something you're not telling me."
"There are a lot of things I'm not telling you." I gave her a small, genuine smile. "We just met."
That earned me the barest hint of a smile in return. "Fair enough." She stood, gathering her arrows. "Rest. Heal. We'll talk more when you're stronger."
She moved toward the door but paused with her hand on the latch. "One more thing, Isaiah from somewhere warm."
"What's that?"
"If I find out you're lying about this vision, about why you're here..." She didn't finish the threat. She didn't need to.
The door closed behind her, leaving me alone with the fire and my thoughts.
I eased back down onto the cot, staring at the ceiling. The Domain Trial was proving more complex than I'd anticipated. Not only did I have to reach the Temple of Echoes and somehow defeat whatever guardian awaited me there, but I also had to navigate the politics and personal vendettas of the people in this world.
People who, according to the books and everything we knew, weren't even real. Just constructs of the Domain Trial.
But Laina hadn't felt like a construct. Her grief for her father, her determination, her suspicion – all of it felt genuine. Too genuine to dismiss.
I flexed my bandaged hands, feeling the sting of torn skin beneath the wrappings. Real or not, this world could hurt me. Could kill me. And if I died here, I would never wake up.
Fuck, I needed to get moving. But first, I needed to heal. And I needed to learn more about this world, about the Temple, about the Winter King.