Rain had been replaced by a thin veil of snow as the four made their way up the winding mountain path. The monastery they had chosen as refuge loomed ahead—crumbling stone walls, half-collapsed roofs, yet perched strategically above the valley below. It was far from the Revenant's usual routes, but far didn't mean safe.
Prince slipped his hood back, scanning the distant treeline. "This will do," he said quietly. Praise, still limp from the mansion fight, leaned on Lammy, who offered a reassuring smirk. Jed was already moving toward the eastern flank, checking every shadow.
Inside, the monastery smelled of mold and decay. Praise immediately began sweeping floors and clearing debris. "We need something that feels like home… even if it's just a corner," she said, stacking broken tiles into neat piles. Lammy touched the stone doorframe, whispering an incantation as a faint glow traced the cracks. "No one's getting in unnoticed," he muttered. Jed flexed, feeling the pulse of his other self inside, willing it to stay subdued.
Small moments passed between chores—Praise humming quietly, Lammy mending minor scrapes with magic, Jed sitting silently on the steps, jaw clenched, struggling with the monster lurking beneath his skin. Prince watched them all, weighing their moods, gauging the fractures still present from their last battle.
By afternoon, Prince had pulled them together in the main hall. "We can't wait for threats to find us," he said. "We train. We prepare. We get stronger—together."
Training began with awkward stumbles and bruised egos. Jed attempted controlled transformations, fur flaring then retracting under his conscious will. Lammy experimented with gentler magic, coaxing small flames to dance harmlessly above his palms instead of tearing through the walls. Praise discovered an old chest in a side chamber, its contents a jumble of forgotten weapons and faded scrolls. A rusted sword hummed faintly under her touch, runes lighting beneath her fingers. "I think… I can use this," she whispered. Prince focused on his mind powers, pushing his limits—probing, manipulating, stretching—while the others watched, taking cues.
Between drills, they talked. Praise confessed fears of failing. Lammy revealed the burden of necromancy, how it had almost consumed him. Jed's voice cracked as he spoke of the beast inside, a voice not his own, whispering vengeance. Prince remained silent mostly, but every now and then, a word of advice, a quiet acknowledgment, tied them closer.
Then came the cold. At first, subtle—frost lining the window sills, breath misting the air inside the hall. By the time the snow began falling in earnest, there was a palpable chill that carried a different weight. The doors rattled, and all four felt the unspoken truth: someone was coming.
They stepped into the courtyard. The snow swirled around their boots, crunching against stone. And then—there she was. Veyra of Ice. She stood at the edge of the courtyard, unmoving, eyes like shards of frozen glass. Ice crystals formed and drifted around her like lazy snowflakes, untouched by wind.
Prince's hand twitched, but she did not attack. She simply watched, a calm predator. "Better train," her voice was soft yet sharp enough to cut through the whistling snow. "I don't like to fight weaklings. I won't tell them of your new hideout—for now. In two days, I'll come for you. I am not like my brother you killed."
And just as silently as she had appeared, she vanished. The snow swirled into a miniature blizzard, leaving the courtyard coated in rime. The four stared at the empty air where she had stood, hearts pounding, teeth chattering in the cold.
Prince clenched his fists, eyes burning. "Two days," he murmured. "Then we'll see who's ready."