Gray, Lira, and Orrin were led through a narrow stone corridor into a room unlike the cold, lifeless prison they had just been dragged from. The contrast was immediate and jarring. Here, the stone gave way to wooden walls etched with age and soot. Faded tapestries clung to them, their once-colorful threads dulled into hues of rust and frostbitten blue. A faint, comforting smell of burning herbs and aged wood filled the air, clinging to their skin like a memory they didn't own.
Three beds lined one side of the room, each covered in coarse fur blankets. A long wooden table dominated the center, its surface scarred with knife marks and years of use. Two chests sat beneath the frost-rimmed windows, their lids slightly ajar, revealing woolen clothes and basic supplies.
Korr lay on the farthest bed, his leg stretched out and wrapped tightly in thick bandages. His breath was shallow but steady. As they entered, his eyes flicked toward them and he offered a small nod, expression heavy with fatigue.
Grry moved quickly to his side. "Your leg," he murmured, concern cutting through the shock still pressing against his ribs.
"Broken," Korr replied with a grunt, shifting to sit up straighter. "Tree slammed into me when the Pale Maw hit the truck. Felt like the world tried to fold in half."
Gray looked down to the floor.
"I—I'm sorry..." Gray whispered. He felt like it was his fault. If he had discovered the Pale Maw had been chasing them earlier. They wouldn't be in this messed up situation.
"Don't be. It's not your fault." Korr replied in a calm voice. But deep down his hatred for the monster only grew.
Lira lingered near the doorway, then quietly shut it behind them. She walked over to the table, her movements slow and cautious. "One of the guards said the beast ran off when their scouts came close. They dragged us back with whatever they could salvage."
Gray took in the room again. It was warm, yes. Safe even. But it wasn't freedom. It wasn't theirs.
Adel rested on the bed beside Korr, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket. Her breathing was calm, her cheeks no longer deathly pale. A small measure of relief flickered in Gray's chest, but it did not last.
His brow furrowed, voice dark. "We were saved?" He sat back on his heels, the words biting with quiet bitterness. "No. Just captured before we would've died."
The silence in the room grew heavier. Orrin kept his eyes on the tabletop. Lira leaned against the wall near the corner, arms crossed tightly, her posture rigid.
"Where's Renn?" Gray asked after a long pause.
Korr gestured loosely with one hand. "Taken somewhere just before you woke. Guard said he's fine. Helping out."
"And the rank seven?" Gray asked. Although he hadn't contributed much, he was still part of his group.
"He's having to cut down trees..."
Gray let out a slow breath, dragging his fingers through his tangled hair. His body ached. His thoughts spun.
'Are they trating us like slaves?'
Then he looked toward Lira.
"Making a deal like that?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried weight. "Risky. Reckless."
Lira met his eyes. Her expression didn't shift. "We had no other choice."
"Still... who knows what could've happened..." Gray stated his thoughts. His mind was still struggling to understand their situation.
'Who knew people would actually live in Glacierfang. It's always freezing cold and there's monsters around every corner...' he was surprised to find other people like him on Nyxterra. He knew there were Sanctuary's and even entire cities and kingdoms formed on Nyxterra but could these people be natives to the land?
He rubbed his head, clearing his jumbled thoughts and turned to Lira once again.
"You spoke their language like you were raised with it."
There was a pause. Her gaze flicked toward the floor. "It's called Jskander. Old language. Some places still use it. I was taught."
"Taught?" Gray sat back, swimming in his thoughts.
Lira didn't answer. She stared at the wall behind him, face unreadable.
Gray exhaled sharply and looked away. The tension between them simmered.
He didn't want to create unnecessary hatred between them.
Besides, what did her past have to do with him?
A soft knock echoed from the door before it creaked open. The translator from before stepped in. She looked composed, but distant. Behind her stood two masked guards, still and silent. She walked forward and tossed a bundle of gray cloth onto the table.
"Change into these," she instructed. "Follow me when you are ready."
The cloth was rough but warm. Layered with thin inner padding and reinforced seams. Gray dressed slowly, every movement reminding him of bruises and wounds not yet healed.
Once ready, the group filed out into the open.
The cold met them, but it was softer here. The wind was muted, the chill biting but tolerable. They stood at the edge of a new village, smaller than the one they had escaped, but more alive. High wooden pikes formed a protective circle around the buildings. Torches lined the inside of the wall, their flames flickering gently.
Gray's eyes scanned everything. The villagers moved with purpose, wrapped in thick cloaks and armed with weapons forged of bone and metal. Children played near snowbanks while elders watched from stoops. But beneath the calm, there was tension. Caution.
Paths curved downward at certain points, revealing underground tunnels cut into the stone. Gray glimpsed better-equipped guards and larger structures below. Those areas were inaccessible. Gates blocked their paths, and masked sentries watched them pass.
Soon, they approached a large blacksmith shop. The roof was steep and covered in soot, and smoke poured from a wide chimney. Inside, the rhythmic clang of hammer on metal echoed.
Beside the forge, working on the husk of a half-destroyed truck, stood Renn.
"Renn!" Gray called out, stepping forward.
Renn turned, startled. His arm was wrapped in a splint, and his brow was damp with sweat. He blinked in surprise, then smiled weakly. "Hey. Still breathing, huh?"
Gray approached quickly. "You okay?"
Renn nodded. "Alive. That's more than I expected. They said if i help the blacksmith, they will help fix our truck! Not to mention i can pick up some new skills." his lips turned into a small grin.
Gray nodded, he gave him a smile back before walking back to the group.
The group was led again through a winding path to a smaller wooden house nestled near the village wall. Inside was sparse, but warm. A single table occupied the center, surrounded by wooden chairs. A fire burned low in the corner.
The translator followed them in, then motioned for them to sit. She remained standing.
"You will assist in eliminating a monster nest," she explained, her voice flat but clear. "In exchange, the Kaan will grant your freedom."
Lira raised an eyebrow, skepticism sharp in her voice. "We can't fight without our equipment. No suits. No truck."
"The blacksmith will supply weapons," the translator replied. "Your suits were damaged. Outdated. They are not built for Glacierfang's terrain. You will be given lighter armor, fitted for the cold."
Gray sat straighter. "What kind of nest?"
The translator's face turned somber. "It is old. Deep. Infested for generations. We have not been able to purge it. You will enter through an old tunnel. You must move quietly. Strike quickly. Destroy the core."
As she finished, two guards entered and placed steaming bowls of food on the table. The scent was earthy and rich, root vegetables, broth, and something like venison.
"You have three days," she added. "More details will come. Rest. Eat. Decide whether you will fight. But if you do not, your chains return."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and exited. The door closed behind her with a dull thud.
Gray sat back in his chair, staring at the bowl in front of him. The scent filled the room, comforting in its simplicity. But his mind wasn't on food.
'Three days...'
'Not much time. Not nearly enough.'
But they had to make due with it.
He looked at Orrin. The boy looked tired but focused. Korr rested nearby, watching quietly. Lira had taken the farthest chair and was staring into the flames, her expression unreadable.
They had been given a reprieve.
Not mercy. Not sanctuary.
A test.
Gray reached for the bowl and took a slow bite. The warmth spread through him, filling the hollow spaces left by fear and frost.
They would need that warmth soon.
Because the cold was coming again.