The climb grew colder with every step, the wind threading between them like a thin, curious ghost. Frost glittered in the cracks of stone, and Zelene could feel the altitude in her bones — the air too thin, too sharp, like it didn't quite want them here.
Corvin paused to catch his breath. "We're still heading north, right?"
"According to the elder," Ray said, tightening his gloves.
But his tone held a sliver of doubt.
Finn kicked a pebble off the ledge and watched it vanish into the mist below.
"North is a direction. Doesn't mean we're going the right way."
Zelene exhaled a soft laugh she didn't fully feel.
"Honestly, at this point, all we have is a vague prophecy and hope."
Ray snorted. "Wonderful combination."
But Zelene's mind wandered back to her memories — not of this world, but the other one. Her original one. The one she never talked about.
Mountains mean feral tribes, creepy legends, documentaries where hikers go missing…
Her chest tightened.
She tried to sound casual.
"So… tiny little concern here."
All three boys looked at her.
"Mountain people were rumored to be… you know…"
She gestured vaguely. "Cannibals."
Finn sucked in a breath. "Why would you say that right now."
"I'm just managing expectations!" Zelene whisper-hissed.
Corvin shook his head. "There are no cannibals."
Ray added, "Not common ones, at least."
"Ray!"
"What? I'm being realistic."
Zelene muttered, "If anyone tries to season me, I'm running downhill."
Finn whispered, "Same."
Their nervous bickering faded as the path curved — the fog thinning just enough to reveal something massive carved into the mountainside.
A cavern.
No — a sanctuary.
Wide as a fortress gate, warm light pulsing from within like a quiet heartbeat. Voices echoed gently, like murmuring water.
They slowed, exchanging wary glances.
"Someone lives here," Corvin murmured.
Zelene swallowed. "Well… at least we know they're not wolves."
Finn muttered, "Could still be cannib—"
"FINN."
But any tension dissolved when figures stepped into view — carrying lanterns woven from bone and thin wood.
Villagers.
Smiling.
Calm.
Welcoming.
A woman with dark hair streaked in silver approached first, her steps quiet against the stone.
"Travelers," she greeted warmly. "You've come at a cold hour. Please — rest with us."
Her voice flowed like warm tea — comforting, gentle… a little too gentle.
Zelene forced a polite smile.
"Thank you. We didn't expect to find anyone living this high."
"Oh," the woman chuckled softly, "we've been here longer than memory can hold."
Villagers gathered behind her — old, young, families — all sharing the same serene smile, the kind that didn't quite reach their eyes.
Ray stepped forward carefully.
"We're looking for someone. An individual known as the Cerulean Auryn. Perhaps you've heard the name?"
A beat.
Too quick, too unified:
"No."
The answer fell from every mouth almost simultaneously.
Zelene felt her spine prickle.
Finn whispered under his breath, "Okay, that was… creepy."
Ray didn't respond — but his hand rested subtly near his weapon.
The silver-haired woman tilted her head, still all warmth.
"I'm afraid we know no such person. But perhaps you should eat and rest first. Travelers often ask better questions once their spirits have settled."
Zelene exchanged a look with Corvin.
They were being herded.
Gently, but undeniably.
Yet the wind grew colder by the second, and their legs trembled with exhaustion.
Zelene — quiet all this time — finally nodded.
"We accept your hospitality."
A flicker of pleased relief crossed every villager's face.
Too synchronized.
They led the group deeper inside.
And the cavern opened like a blooming flower — vast and domed, illuminated by hundreds of torches. A great bonfire roared in the center, flames swirling in vibrant blues like enchanted water.
Around it, villagers danced in slow spirals — graceful and mesmerizing.
Their attire was unlike anything Zelene had seen:
long, flowing cloth in layers of deep slate and ocean-blue
shawls lined with pale fur, embroidered with silver thread in wave-like patterns
bone charms and rounded stones woven into cords at their waists
bare feet wrapped with soft hide strips
hair adorned with beads that glimmered like frost
The surroundings breathed life:
walls etched with flowing carvings resembling rivers and storms
alcoves filled with pottery, herbs, and handwoven baskets
a still pool reflecting the dancing flames in shimmering ripples
wooden wind chimes hanging from stalactites, whispering soft music when air shifted
Children ran around the fire laughing — but even their laughter felt… controlled.
Measured.
Almost too perfect.
The moment Zelene stepped closer to the fire, conversation around her dipped — barely a second, a tiny pause — but she felt it.
A shift.
A ripple of attention.
Eyes flicking her way.
Ray noticed too.
Corvin stiffened.
Finn stopped mid-breath.
The elder smiled gently as if nothing had happened.
"Come. Warm yourselves. Mountain nights are cruel."
Zelene forced her lips into a grateful smile.
"Thank you… truly."
But a shiver crawled across her back — not from cold, but instinct.
Because underneath the beauty, the dancing, the warmth…
Something else pulsed.
Quiet.
Hidden.
Watching.
And far deeper within the caves — past the firelight, past the dancing shadows —
a faint blue glow flickered like a heartbeat waiting to be found.