Elder Senna's voice filled the hall, her silver braids gleaming in the blue-white flames.
"Before the eternal winter, Frostfall was a land of seasons," she began, her hands moving in time with her words. "Spring brought new life, summer brought bounty, autumn brought harvest, and winter brought rest. Four kingdoms lived in uneasy peace, each ruled by a monarch who embodied their domain's essence."
I leaned forward, arms resting on my knees. The blue flames cast strange shadows across the hall, turning faces into masks.
"The Northern Kingdom was ruled by King Evendur, master of ice and snow," Elder Senna continued. "His domain was harsh but fair, his people strong and resilient. Unlike the other kingdoms, winter was their time of strength, not weakness."
Elder Mora picked up the tale, her frail voice surprisingly steady. "Evendur was blessed with gifts beyond mortal men—the ability to command snow and ice, to speak with the winter winds, to survive cold that would kill ordinary folk. But he was still a man, with a man's heart."
"And a man's weaknesses," added Elder Dorn, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"What weakness?" I asked.
Elder Senna's eyes fixed on mine. "Pride. Ambition. And above all, fear of death."
"Sounds familiar," I muttered, thinking of the countless power-hungry officials back in New Vein.
Tannin nodded grimly. "As Evendur aged, he grew desperate to preserve his life and power. He sent expeditions to the farthest corners of the world, seeking any magic that might grant him immortality."
"Did he find it?"
"Not immortality," Elder Harek said, running a gnarled hand over his bald head. "Something far worse."
Senna cast another handful of powder into the fire. The flames shifted from blue-white to a deep, unnatural purple.
"In the highest peaks of the Sorrow Range, Evendur's scouts discovered an ancient temple—older than any kingdom, older perhaps than mankind itself." Her voice dropped lower, forcing everyone to lean closer to hear. "Within that Ftemple lay a relic of impossible power: the Heart of Winter."
"The Temple of Echoes," I said, recognizing it from my instructions.
Laina, who had been standing silently behind me, stepped forward. "The very same. My father's journals described it as a place where reality itself seemed thin, where whispers echoed from nowhere and everywhere at once."
"Evendur believed the Heart could grant him eternal life," Tannin continued. "He journeyed to the Temple with his most trusted advisors and strongest warriors. They were gone for a month. When they returned..."
He trailed off, looking to Elder Mora, who closed her eyes as if in pain.
"When they returned," she said softly, "only Evendur lived. But he was... changed."
"Changed how?" I pressed, noting how several villagers made warding gestures at her words.
"His skin had turned pale as new ice," Elder Dorn said. "His eyes, once blue as summer skies, had become abyssal pits that devoured light rather than reflected it. And the air around him froze, killing plants and animals that ventured too close."
Joran stepped forward from the shadows. "The stories my father told me said he no longer cast a shadow. Instead, where his shadow should have been, there was only a patch of ground covered in frost."
"He had bound himself to the Heart of Winter," Senna explained, her hands trembling slightly. "Traded his humanity for power and immortality. But such magic demands balance. For Evendur to gain eternal life, something had to be sacrificed."
"The seasons," I guessed, the pieces falling into place.
Elder Harek nodded. "First, winter lingered a few weeks longer than usual. Then months. Then it refused to release its grip at all. Crops failed. People starved. The other kingdoms sent armies to confront Evendur, believing he had caused the endless winter."
"Had he?" I asked.
"Not intentionally," Tannin said. "But the Heart of Winter fed on his desires. He feared death, so it granted him life eternal. He loved winter, so it made winter eternal. He resented the other kingdoms for challenging his power, so it gave him the means to destroy them."
Laina's voice cut through the hall, sharp as an arrow. "He became the Winter King. And the first Reflectors were born from those who died fighting him."
A heavy silence fell over the hall. In that quiet, I could hear the wind howling outside, as if the very subject of our discussion had stirred it to life.
"That's why the Reflectors drain heat and life," I said, piecing it together. "They're feeding that energy back to him, to the Heart."
Elder Senna nodded approvingly. "You understand quickly, outlander."
"But why the Temple?" I asked, shifting in my seat to face her directly. "If Evendur became the Winter King and bound himself to the Heart, why would he leave it behind?"
"He didn't," Laina said. "The Temple of Echoes is his throne room now. The Heart of Winter sits upon a pedestal beside him, pulsing like a frozen star."
I turned toward her, noting the certainty in her voice. "How do you know that? If no one's returned from the Temple in ten years?"
"My father's last message," she answered, pulling a small leather pouch from inside her vest. From it, she extracted a scrap of parchment, yellowed with age. "It was delivered by his familiar—a raven trained to find its way home no matter the distance."
She passed the parchment to me. The writing was cramped and hurried, some words smeared by what might have been water... or blood.
Reached Temple. Winter King sits on throne of ice. Heart pulses beside him. Most of our company lost. He knows we're here. Spoke my name though we never met. Said he's been waiting. Something wrong with Temple—walls shift, rooms change. If you're reading this, I've failed. Don't send more to die. I love you. Tell her I'm sorry.
I handed the note back, a chill running through me that had nothing to do with the temperature. "Who was he supposed to tell?"
Laina's face hardened. "My mother. She died shortly after he left."
Elder Tannin cleared his throat. "The expedition your father joined was our last hope. Fifty of the finest warriors from the Knights of the Eternal Flame, led by Grandmaster Harric himself. They carried weapons blessed by the last remaining fire priests, armor forged with the remnants of summer magic."
"And only three returned," I said.
"Broken men," Elder Mora added. "Torsten was the least damaged of them. The other two took their own lives within a year."
I leaned back, letting the weight of this information settle. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the crackling of the unnatural flames.
"You said Evendur feared death," I said finally, looking at each elder in turn. "That's why he sought the Heart of Winter. What if that's still his weakness?"
Elder Harek's eyebrows rose. "Explain."
I stood, pacing a short line before the fire, my thoughts racing. "The Heart made him immortal, but maybe not invulnerable. Maybe he can still be injured, still feel pain. Maybe he can still fear."
"The Winter King fears nothing," Joran said dismissively. "He commands armies of the dead."
I turned to face him. "Everyone fears something. Even gods."
"He's not a god," Laina said quietly.
"No," I agreed. "He's a man who stole power he didn't understand. And anything stolen can be taken back."
Elder Senna studied me, her head tilted like a curious bird. "And you believe you're the one to take it?"
"I believe I'm meant to try."
"Based on a vision," Joran scoffed.
"Based on necessity," I countered, turning to face him fully. "Someone has to end this curse. Why not me?"
"Why not any of us?" he demanded, stepping closer. "What makes you special, outlander?"
I didn't back down. "Nothing. And everything. I've seen what's coming. I've been shown the path. That doesn't make me special—it makes me responsible."
Joran opened his mouth to argue further, but Elder Tannin raised his hand, silencing him.
"There's something else you should know," the old man said, his good eye fixed on me. "Something about the Temple that few understand."
I returned to my seat, giving him my full attention. "I'm listening."
"The Temple of Echoes doesn't simply sit upon the mountain," he explained. "It exists... between places. Between times, some say. The walls shift and change. Rooms appear and disappear. Those who enter find themselves walking paths that shouldn't exist, seeing reflections of what was or what might be."
Elder Mora nodded solemnly. "The survivors spoke of hearing voices—echoes of conversations never held, battles never fought, lives never lived. Some went mad from it, unable to distinguish reality from echo."
"Is that why it's called the Temple of Echoes?" I asked. "Because of these... reflections?"
"Partly," Elder Senna said. "But also because it echoes your deepest self back to you. Your fears. Your desires. Your truths."
I thought about that for a moment. "So it's not just reaching the Temple that's the challenge. It's surviving what you find inside."
"Yes," Tannin confirmed. "And this is why we hesitate to allow anyone to attempt the journey again. Not just because of the dangers of the path, but because of what awaits at its end."
I looked at Laina, who stood with her arms crossed, face unreadable. "You knew all this. And you still agreed to guide me."
"I did," she said simply.
"Why?"
She unfolded her arms, one hand resting on the knife at her belt. "Because I've spent ten years waiting for the right moment, the right chance, to finish what my father started. If your visions are true, that moment is now."
Elder Tannin sighed heavily. "Laina has her father's stubborn spirit. Once her mind is set, little can change it."
"So you'll allow us to go?" I asked, trying to keep the eagerness from my voice.
The elders exchanged long looks, some kind of silent communication passing between them. Finally, Tannin spoke.
"We cannot stop you. The path to the Temple is not ours to bar. But neither will we send you unprepared." He gestured to one of the younger men standing nearby. "Bring what was recovered from the last expedition."
The man nodded and left the hall. An expectant hush fell over the gathering.
"If you truly mean to face the Winter King," Tannin continued, "you'll need more than courage and determination. You'll need knowledge. Tools. And something else—something the last expedition lacked."
"What's that?" I asked.
The old man's weathered face creased into something almost like a smile. "The element of surprise. The Winter King has grown comfortable in his frozen throne. He doesn't expect anyone to challenge him now, after all this time."
"Good," I said, a cold determination settling in my chest. "That complacently is what will be his demise."