The climb to Sova's refuge began at the edge of the old docks, where the slums gave way to cliffs carved by centuries of wind and salt. The path was nothing more than a thread of stone steps worn slick by frozen spray. Kaelin's breath fogged in front of him with every exhale, and his fingers were numb despite the ragged cloth wrapped around them. The sea crashed far below, its waves edged in ice, sending bursts of mist that glittered in the dim light of dawn.
Sova moved ahead without hesitation. His patched cloak flapped in the wind, and his cane tapped steadily against the stone. Kaelin kept his eyes on the older man's back, focusing on each step so he would not think about how far he could fall. His legs ached, but the cold in the air seemed to stir something deep inside him. It felt almost familiar, like an old friend he had forgotten.
By the time they reached the narrow cave mouth, Kaelin's teeth were chattering. The entrance was framed by jagged icicles, some longer than his arm. Inside, the air grew colder still, but the walls shimmered faintly with a pale blue glow. Thin streams of frozen water traced the rock, as if the cave itself had been sculpted by a slow, deliberate hand.
"This place is older than the Guilds," Sova said quietly as he ducked inside. "Older than their lies."
The passage wound deeper until it opened into a chamber where frost coated every surface. A pool of still water lay at its center, perfectly clear, reflecting the cave ceiling like a mirror. The glow Kaelin had seen came from veins of crystal embedded in the walls, pulsing softly like a heartbeat.
Sova knelt by the pool and motioned for Kaelin to join him. "The ice remembers," he said. "It carries the echoes of those bound to it by blood. Place your hands in the water. Do not fight what you see."
Kaelin hesitated. The surface looked calm, but something about it felt alive, watching him. He knelt and lowered his hands. The water was colder than anything he had ever felt. It stole the warmth from his skin instantly, but instead of pain, a strange pull spread through his chest.
The cave faded.
He was standing in a great hall carved from white stone, its pillars wrapped in spirals of frost. Tall windows opened to a sky filled with swirling snow, and a throne of ice sat at the far end. Around it stood men and women dressed in robes lined with silver and blue, their eyes bright like winter stars. He recognized their faces from half-remembered tales… the rulers of the Aeryn dynasty.
A woman stepped forward. Her hair was the color of fresh snow, and a crown of frozen crystal rested on her brow. She spoke, but the words were muffled, as if carried from a great distance. Her hand lifted toward him, palm outward, and frost marks glimmered across her skin in patterns that matched the scars on his own shoulder.
Flashes came in quick bursts. Armies marching across frozen plains. Storms summoned over black seas. The imperial capital blazed with light before the sky turned red. The woman's face twisted in grief as fire consumed the throne room. Figures in the armor of the Fire Guild struck down those with frost in their veins.
Kaelin's heart pounded. He tried to speak, but the vision shifted again. He was back in the slums as a small child, holding his sister's hand. She coughed in the cold, her lips pale, and he remembered the night she stopped breathing. The grief hit him so hard he gasped.
The woman's voice came clear this time, soft yet unyielding. "The storm sleeps in you, my blood. When it wakes, you will either save this land… or see it broken forever."
The ice shattered beneath his hands.
Kaelin fell backward, gasping as the cave returned. His palms were slick with frost, and his breath came in ragged clouds. Sova's eyes searched his face.
"What did you see?"
Kaelin swallowed hard. "A queen… fire… death. And she called me blood."
Sova's expression hardened. "Then it is true. You are Aeryn."
The weight of the word settled on Kaelin's shoulders like a mantle of ice. Somewhere inside, the cold he had felt in the marketplace stirred again, stronger this time, as if it had been waiting for him to remember.
...
The morning after the vision, Kaelin awoke to the sound of dripping water echoing in the frostbound cave. His body felt heavy, as if the dream had left something frozen deep inside him. Sova was already moving around the chamber, sorting through small bundles wrapped in cloth.
"Up," the old man said without looking at him. "If the storm is in you, it must learn your voice before it tears you apart."
Kaelin rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. The glow of the crystal veins still pulsed softly in the walls, steady and calm, as if mocking the restless beating of his heart. He remembered the queen's voice from the vision, the weight of the word she had used… blood. The memory made his chest tighten.
Sova handed him a wooden staff polished smooth by years of use. "Your bloodline bends wind, water, and ice, but it will not obey without discipline. You will start with breath. Breath commands the tide inside you."
They stepped outside the cave. The cliffside air was sharp and cold, biting Kaelin's cheeks. Far below, the sea churned against black rocks, throwing white spray into the wind. Sova told him to stand facing the horizon and close his eyes.
"Breathe in as if you are drawing the ocean into your lungs," Sova instructed. "Breathe out as if you are releasing the clouds themselves."
At first, it was only breath, slow and even. But then something stirred. The air seemed to swirl in rhythm with him, subtle at first, then stronger. The wind tugged at his hair and cloak. The cold in his chest deepened until it felt like frost was forming inside his veins.
"Good," Sova said. "Feel it, but do not let it slip from you."
A sound cut through the wind. It was faint, but Kaelin's mind twisted it into the coughing of his sister from years ago. The memory came fast and sharp… her small hands clinging to his shirt in the darkness of their shelter, her breath rattling until it stopped. The grief hit him like a blow. His breathing faltered.