The world outside the caravan had grown whiter.
Not brighter.
Just more… absolute.
Snow no longer fell in fine threads, but in slow, dense sheets that blurred the line between earth and sky. The road beneath the caravan's wheels had narrowed into a carved track of compressed white, the edges fraying into untouched frost where no boot had dared stray.
The sound of travel had become a rhythm:
Wood creaking.
Hooves pressing.
Wheels grinding.
Breath, from six people, rising and fading like ghosts.
Kel felt the shift first.
Not in the road.
In the air.
A faint change in the way wind pressed against the canvas. A subtle alteration in the pitch of the wheels biting into the snow.
The caravan did not slow, but something in the landscape's rhythm did.
He opened his eyes fully.
He had not been sleeping—only resting, gaze half-lowered, listening more than seeing. Now his attention sharpened, focusing on the sliver of world visible through the flap in the front.
The plains had thinned.
The lines of the land were changing.
To their right, a faint dark smudge cut across the white—the beginnings of a treeline, distant but insistent. It was not the dense thickness of a southern forest, but the sparse, clawing fingers of northern pines and skeletal birch that dared grow this close to mountain breath.
To their left, the road continued in a gentler curve, following the lay of land downward, toward more civilized routes.
Straight ahead, beyond where the caravan currently turned, the outline of something larger emerged in the haze.
Mountains.
Not yet looming.
But present.
Kel's gaze held them.
A pale, jagged weight beneath the clouds.
The northeast.
There.
The path to barbarians.
The hidden portal.
The Scarder Lake.
The caravan rocked as Torren gently pulled on the reins.
Outside, the wind shifted.
The horses snorted, breath steaming in sharp plumes.
Inside, Jace's voice came through, quieter than before.
"We're approaching the fork."
Mara straightened slightly, her axe shifting against her shoulder. Baird unfolded his legs. Lysia's fingers tightened around her staff. Landon's hand adjusted its resting place on his sword hilt.
Reina's gaze moved to the front.
The caravan slowed.
The wheels rolled to a softer halt, crunching snow into a deeper groove before stopping fully.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind brushing against canvas and the faint, crystalline rustle of snow settling onto still surfaces.
Then Torren's voice came, muffled.
"We're here."
Jace pulled the flap aside and looked in.
His hair was dusted with fine snow now, lashes rimmed with frost. His cheeks were reddened from the cold wind, but his eyes remained sharp, steady.
He looked at Kel first.
Then at Reina.
Then Landon.
A small, acknowledging curve touched his lips.
"This is where the road parts," he said.
Kel rose.
He did so slowly, so his body did not protest more than necessary. The ache in his arms and chest from yesterday's hunt was still there, but dulled by rest. The curse curled inside him, not quiet, but contained—for now.
Reina stood with almost no sound, cloak falling into place around her like a well-trained shadow. Landon pushed himself up more heavily, the wood beneath his boots creaking faintly.
They stepped down from the caravan one by one.
The air outside bit immediately, sharper than the inn's threshold, harsher than the city streets. The open plain did not soften cold; it amplified it, letting wind run unbroken.
Kel's boots sank into fresh snow.
The ground here had seen less travel than the main road. Only the caravan's recent tracks marred its surface for a stretch.
He lifted his gaze.
The fork lay before them.
To the east, the road turned and descended gently, following the terrain toward a distant cluster of hills where trade routes threaded between minor lordships and merchant towns.
To the northeast, no road truly existed.
Only a suggestion.
A faint depression in the snow where earlier winter paths had once been carved by hunters and mad travelers, now half-swallowed by new frost.
Beyond that—
The mountains.
Not close enough to tower.
Not distant enough to ignore.
Their silhouettes rose as smudged teeth beneath a heavy sky, edges softened by mist and falling snow.
Jace and Torren jumped down from the front bench.
Mara, Baird, and Lysia followed out the back.
The group stood together at the meeting of paths.
Five under chosen stars.
Three under a heavier question.
Kel watched the snow cling to the seams of Torren's shield, the way Mara's breath puffed in uneven bursts, the faint shiver Lysia almost—but not quite—suppressed in her fingers.
Jace shoved his gloved hands into his coat pockets, exhaling through his teeth.
"Well," he said lightly, though his eyes were not light at all. "This is where it stops being convenient."
Mara snorted.
"Hasn't been convenient since the first wolf."
Baird lifted his staff, planting it lightly into the snow.
"We follow the east road," he said. "Noble requests, caravan escorts, scheduled hunts."
His gaze drifted toward the northeast line.
"You three… do not."
Torren's brow furrowed.
"The northern mountains are not forgiving," he said. "Even Tier Four struggle if they misstep."
Lysia looked at Kel.
Her expression was calm, but something in her gaze carried worry edged with curiosity.
"You're still going?" she asked, though his answer had never been in doubt.
Kel turned his head toward the mountains again.
Snow blurred the line where their base met the earth.
The sky above them felt… heavier.
A closed eye waiting to open.
"Yes," he said.
His voice was soft.
Unshaken.
"I have to."
Reina didn't bother to add anything.
Her silence stood like a blade beside his words—sharp, unwavering.
Landon's jaw tightened.
He simply took one step closer to Kel's right side.
Jace watched them.
His eyes narrowed a fraction.
Then he gave a low, quiet exhale.
"You're either very brave," he said, "or very certain that turning back costs more than moving forward."
Kel's lips curved, barely.
"There is nothing waiting behind us that will cure a death curse," he replied.
A pause.
The words lingered in the air like thin smoke.
Jace blinked.
Mara's eyes widened.
Baird's fingers stilled on his staff.
Lysia's breath caught.
Torren's grip on his reins tightened.
"…So that's your burden," Jace murmured.
Kel did not flinch.
"It is my circumstance," he corrected. "What I choose to do with it is my burden."
The wind picked up, flinging thin flurries across their cloaks, tugging at loose strands of hair.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then Mara moved first, striding forward with a crunch of boots in snow. She stopped in front of Kel—not too close, but close enough that her presence carried weight.
Her eyes were fiercely bright.
"If you end up fighting something that tries to eat you whole," she said, "hit it harder than it expects."
Her lips twitched.
"And if you meet me again someday, be strong enough that I can hit you without breaking you."
Kel regarded her.
The corner of his own mouth moved with a small, shadow-thin echo of amusement.
"I will keep that… in mind."
Her grin widened, fierce and brief.
She stepped back.
Torren approached next, shield at his side. He looked at Kel, then at Landon, then Reina.
"Mountains like to test whether you learn to stand properly," he said. "Fall, if you must. But fall forward."
He turned his head slightly.
"And if one of you is about to break, make sure the others are close enough to hold the weight."
Landon nodded once, slow and firm.
Kel inclined his head.
Reina's eyes dipped for the briefest heartbeat.
Lysia stepped forward.
She did not meet Kel's gaze at first.
She looked at Reina.
Their eyes met—two different kinds of frost.
"…You still haven't chosen your star," she said quietly.
Reina's lips parted slightly.
"No."
Lysia's fingers tightened subtly on her staff.
"When you do," she said, "pick one that remembers you are not its servant."
Reina's lashes lowered in something that was not quite a blink.
"I will," she said.
Their brief, wordless acknowledgement passed between them.
Lysia then turned to Kel.
For the first time, her gaze held something that felt like… apology.
"I almost froze when that Duskwolf leapt," she admitted quietly. "You moved instead."
Her pale eyes sharpened slightly at the edges.
"Don't… stop doing that."
Kel held her gaze.
"I won't," he said.
Baird came next.
He did not offer his hand.
He simply looked at the three of them, squinting slightly, as if reading tremors beneath their skins.
"The ground will change beneath you often, heading that way," he said. "Snow, rock, ice… things that want you to misstep."
He tilted his head.
"Listen. Not just to threats. To where your own feet land."
Kel's eyes flickered.
"I do," he replied.
Baird's lips quirked.
"Good," he said. "That's why you're not dead."
Finally, Jace stepped closer.
Snow gathered along the edge of his coat.
He looked at Kel.
Straight.
Unflinching.
"If you die," he said softly, "it will annoy me."
Kel blinked once.
Landon snorted.
Reina's shoulders eased by an invisible fraction.
Jace's mouth twitched.
"We still owe you a proper, planned fight," he continued. "Not one with wolves throwing themselves at our throats."
He extended a gloved hand.
Not as leader.
As equal.
"If the world is foolish enough to let us cross paths again," he said, "I expect you to be stronger than this."
Kel looked at the hand.
Then took it.
His grip was firm.
Cold.
Steady.
"If the world is foolish enough," he agreed, "I will be."
For a heartbeat, their hands remained clasped—two blades, one honed by constellations, the other by refusal.
Then they separated.
Reina inclined her head toward the group.
Landon gave a short, respectful nod.
Jace stepped back.
The lines were clear now.
East.
Northeast.
Road.
No road.
The caravan turned.
Torren led the horses along the eastern track, wheels carving fresh lines into the snow.
Mara's axe gleamed once as she swung it back into a resting grip.
Baird's staff left faint sigil impressions in the air behind him.
Lysia's cloak fluttered, pale against grey.
Jace did not look back immediately.
Only after they had moved a dozen paces did he twist in his seat and raise a hand briefly in parting.
Kel watched until the caravan's shape blurred into the haze.
Until the sound of wheels dulled.
Until the last echo of their presence folded back into the endless white.
Then he turned.
Toward the Northeast
The world seemed… larger now.
Not because the land had changed.
Because there was no longer anything human-shaped between them and the horizon.
Reina stepped to Kel's left.
Landon took his place on the right.
The three of them stood together for a moment, facing the pale teeth of the distant mountains.
Wind pushed gently at their backs, as if urging them forward.
Kel drew a breath.
It burned a little now—the cold sharper, the air thinner.
He adjusted the strap of his quiver.
Checked the bow at his side.
Reina tightened her cloak around her shoulders.
Her face was calm, but her gaze held a quiet, sharpened focus.
Landon pulled his scarf a bit higher, covering more of his mouth. His eyes were steady. His weight settled into the familiar, anchoring stance of someone prepared to carry more than his own body.
Kel took the first step.
Snow compressed under his boot.
No road.
Only direction.
Reina stepped when he did.
Landon followed.
Their footprints trailed behind them—three lines cutting into untouched white, slowly curving toward the northeast.
The mountains watched.
Still distant.
Already waiting.
Kel's thoughts drifted once, briefly, to the status window from last night.
Vitality.
Strength.
Endurance.
Skills earned through pain.
All still painfully meager in the face of what lay ahead.
But his lips moved.
Just slightly.
It's enough to reach the next step.
And sometimes—
In a world built on constellations and curses and grinding inevitability—
one more step was an act of defiance loud enough for the sky to hear, even if it pretended not to.
Snow fell.
Wind whispered.
Three figures walked into it.
Not as heroes.
Not as myths.
Just as a cursed heir and two blades who had decided—
for reasons they didn't need to speak—
to walk beside him into the cold.