The cold hit him first.
The sudden rush of frigid air filling his lungs as he gasped mid-fall, left his body too surprised to scream. The fall itself wasn't particularly long, but it felt like time slowed down. Elias was reaching for the railing, his fingers desperate and clawing, but they found only the cold salt-slicked wood. He felt the grain beneath his pads for a fleeting heartbeat before his hand slipped through the balusters, grasping at nothing but the vanishing deck as he tipped into the void. He tumbled past the glowing portholes of the cabins and the streaked rivets of the hull. Then, the phantom silence of the fall shattered as the dark grip of water rushed up to meet him, hitting with the unforgiving force of concrete.
It swallowed him whole.
Elias plunged deep, the impact driving the air from his chest in a stream of bubbles that spiraled up toward a surface he could no longer see. The river closed over him like a fist. Dark. Freezing. The pressure felt immediate and disorienting.
He kicked, thrashed, clawed upward. Time seemed to move even slower as he ascended, than when he fell. His chest hurt from holding in the air so long, without being prepared to do so.
Finally, his head broke the surface.
He gasped and choked, sucking in both air and water at the same time. His limbs were already going numb. The cold was eating through his clothes, his skin, sinking into his bones.
The ship was moving away. Continuing its path like nothing had happened.
"WAIT!" Elias screamed.
His voice cracked, it barely carried. He could see faces at the railing. Kids staring. A few were pointing but no one was moving to help him. The crew, as they'd warned, didn't even look back.
"WAIT! PLEASE!"
The woman who'd thrown him—he could see her now, standing near the stern. She was watching him. But her face now was different. She wasn't smiling, her head had a slight tilt, eyes seemingly furrowed against otherwise relaxed features. She looked– confused.
"IM SOR–"
The current splashed against Elias' chest before briefly covering his face, water seeping into his mouth. She turned away.
The ship kept moving.
Elias kicked hard, tried to swim after it. His arms felt like lead. The satchel on his back was pulling him down, waterlogged, the weight of it dragging at his shoulders.
He fumbled at the strap with fingers that had grown clumsy and numb from the cold. After a desperate struggle, he finally managed to work it loose and let it go. He swam forward in a panic as it disappeared beneath the surface and sank into the dark.
The ship was farther now. Ten meters. And then fifteen.
"COME BACK!"
No one came back for him.
The gap between Elias and the vessel grew to twenty meters, then thirty, as the massive hull pulled away into the horizon. Elias eventually gave up, stopped swimming and silenced his screams, choosing instead to simply float and tread water while he watched the ship shrink against the sky. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, and his teeth chattered like dice shaken in a cup, rattling with a violence that made his jaw ache.
They left me.
Elias turned in the water, looked around.
Nothing.
Just the river. Stretching out in every direction. Gray water under gray sky. No land in sight.
I'm dead. Like really dead.
Elias hadn't been optimistic about his chance, but even still coming to terms with the nature of these circumstances was distant. Nothing short of unbelievable. Not even twenty minutes ago, Elias was more or less safe. But now there were no other ships. No one would– no one coiuld save him. He was all by himself alone and—
Wait.
There.
A low, dark shape sat in the distance, perhaps three hundred meters away, though it was difficult to tell for certain. It was solid and distinct from the shifting water. For a moment he felt that it looked like an iceberg, but that was impossible given the season. It didn't truly matter what it was; it was something other than the open ocean, and that would allow rest. Elias began to swim toward it.
His strokes were sloppy and uncoordinated as the biting cold, and muscle fatigue began to cloud his thoughts.
His muscles refused to respond correctly, yet he forced himself to keep moving, pulling with one arm and then the other in a rhythmic cycle of kicking and breathing. As he closed the distance, the shape became clearer. It looked like a small island, large enough for maybe one tree like the children's drawings—perhaps a fragment of a lost island or a plateau that had broken off from something much larger. It was flat on top and roughly four meters across, with jagged ice clinging to its edges.
By the time he was within around seventy-five meters, his arms were burning worse, with the sensation that felt like being on fire and frozen all at once. His lungs ached, and each breath felt thinner and more useless than the last.
But by time the entire shape could be made out, something moved in the water beside him. Elias jerked his head to the side and saw a massive shadow beneath the surface, keeping perfect pace with him. His heart slammed against his ribs as he redoubled his efforts, desperation driving his freezing limbs.
The shadow quickly began to rise. Elias caught the full shape of it—a broad, flat head and appendages that looked like something between legs and flippers. Its skin was mottled and warty, slick with the sea, and for one terrifying heartbeat, he caught a glimpse of a filmy, yellow eye watching him.
It was a toad, nearly half his height from the look. And considering where he was, Elias knew he was in terrible danger.
Even if I make the rock, I'm as good as dead.
He was nearly there when the creature finally surfaced. It didn't rise completely, but its head broke the water just behind him, and he heard the wet, rattling sound of its breath over the sound of the waves. With a final, desperate burst of energy, Elias reached the rock.
His hands slapped against the cold stone, finding a narrow grip. He pulled and kicked with everything he had left, hauling his heavy, waterlogged body upward. Just as he cleared the water, the creature lunged. Elias felt the sea surge beneath him, the massive displacement of water rushing through the space where his legs had been hanging only a second before. He scrambled and clawed at the surface, dragging himself onto the flat rock and rolling away from the edge.
He lay there, gasping for air as his vision blurred and his heart hammered against his ribs. Behind him, the water continued to churn as the thing remained just beneath the surface.
He forced himself to sit up, look.
The creature was still there. Circling. Its body was huge—easily a meter long, maybe a bit more. The head was wide, flat, with nostrils positioned high on the skull. The eyes were set far apart, filmed over. The skin was covered in warty growths, grayish-red, slick with mucus. And the legs—they were malformed. The back left leg ended in a stump, mangled, the flesh ragged like something had bitten it off.
But it paced. Slow and patient.
Elias watched it.
His whole body was shaking. Not just from cold now. From adrenaline. From the realization of how close—
He cut the thought off.
The creature sank lower in the water. Just the top of its head visible. The yellow eyes tracking him.
It's waiting. Catching its breath probably.
Elias pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. Tried to stop shaking. But he couldn't.
His clothes were soaked. The wind was picking up. The cold was getting worse.
He was going to freeze to death on this rock.
Or the creature would wait until he was too weak to fight back, and then it would drag him into the water.
Either way.
Even if that toad-thing wasn't lurking right there, Elias knew he was doomed. If he could miraculously walk on water and cut a straight line across the river, it would still take him six months just to reach Isle Four. But he couldn't walk; he had to swim. He wasn't an evolved, and these waters were infested with terrors that went far beyond anything he'd been taught to survive.
The math of it was a death sentence. He couldn't swim for half a year straight. He couldn't fight off the monsters claiming this stretch of the river. And worst of all, he knew he couldn't resist the mental fog for five months, let alone years like that–
Like those evil, self-serving evolved. They are the reason I'm going to die. They're likely the reason the survival rates for migrations are as low as they are. And specifically that skank, that mindless, prideful plague on the earth, would probably do this again and again. But more important than any of that, she did it to me.
Elias opened his eyes, sat up and spat with disdain.
"Who do they think they are?"
He didn't want to die.
He looked around the rock almost fueled by no more than spite.
Flat. Mostly smooth. Ice clinging to the edges—more than there should be. The air temperature had dropped even in the last few minutes. He could see his breath now. The rock was too small to move around much. And if he stood, he'd be visible from every angle. If the creature decided to climb up—
Could it climb?
He looked at it. The front legs had webbed digits. Claws, maybe. The back legs—one was gone. The other looked functional.
Maybe it could climb.
He needed a weapon.
Elias patted himself down. His satchel was gone. The knife Merra had packed—gone. The fire-striker—gone. Everything.
He had absolutely nothing to defend himself with. He scanned the surface of the rock, but it was frustratingly smooth, offering no loose stones or debris to use as a weapon.
Wait.
He ran his hand frantically along the cold surface until his pulse jumped. There was a crack—narrow, but deep enough to offer purchase. He dug his fingers into the fissure and pried with every ounce of strength he had left until a chunk finally broke loose. It was smaller than his fist and jagged on one side, but it was better than being empty-handed. He gripped the stone tightly, the sharp edges digging into his palm, and turned his gaze back to the water.
The creature was still there, buoyed by the dark current and still watching him. Elias didn't look away; he met its yellow, filmy gaze with a desperate defiance.
I'm not food, he thought. You understand? I'm not food.
The creature didn't respond. Just kept circling.
Elias sat there, gripping his pathetic stone, shaking so hard his teeth rattled.
And he waited.
The cold deepened until it felt like a physical weight pressing down on him. The wind began to pick up, and the sky grew dark, though it wasn't the onset of night; instead, thick, low clouds the color of wet ash rolled in, the rain wouldn't be too long to follow. Elias's breath escaped his lips in heavy plumes of white vapor. His fingers had gone completely numb.
Throughout it all, the creature remained in the water. It hadn't left, and it hadn't tried to climb onto the shelf again; it simply paced the rock in a slow, rhythmic patrol. He wondered what it was waiting for—perhaps for his footing to slip, or for the exhaustion to finally claim him and turn him into easy prey. Elias clenched his jaw against the shivering and forced himself to stay conscious. He had to think, stay sharp, and above all else, he could not allow his mind to drift.
He thought about the ship.
The woman who'd thrown him.
After his insult, driven by rage and fear. Kallena said something that truly scared Elias.
an idiot. A fool."
"I called you what you are."
Her smile returned. Wider this time.
"And what are you going to do about it?" Elias said. His voice was rising now, heat flooding through his chest. "You going to throw me overboard? Report me? You think anyone's going to care what some—"
"Can you kill me?"
The question cut through his rant like a blade.
Elias stopped. Stared at her.
"What?"
"Can you kill me?" Kallena asked again. Her tone was conversational. Curious. "I'm asking sincerely. Are you capable of it?"
Elias's throat tightened. His hand was still on the knife.
He paused for a short while, his brain was moving quickly to find the 'right' answer. He also knew the obvious one.
Yes.
The thought came unbidden, irrational, arrogant. Of course he could. She was degraded. Slow. If he moved fast enough—if he struck first—if he didn't hesitate—He could see it. The blade sliding between her ribs. The shock in her eyes. The way she'd crumple.
Yeah Elias was weaker, but anyone could die if they were as incompetent as Kallena.
He could kill her.
Kallena's smile faded. And Elias said nothing. She leaned in. Close enough that he could smell the brine on her skin, the faint copper tang of her breath.
"Let me tell you something," she said. "When two people capable of killing each other disagree, they argue the law. They negotiate. They find common ground." Her eyes locked onto his. "But when two people stand face to face, and one is overwhelmingly stronger than the other?"
She straightened.
"Their word becomes the law."
Elias's hand tightened on the knife.
Kallena's gaze dropped to his pocket. To where his hand was hidden.
"Go ahead," she said. "Try."
He didn't move.
"I thought so."
She stepped back, giving him space for the first time since she'd arrived. The oppressive weight of her presence lifted slightly, but the air still felt too thin.
Elias's pulse was hammering. His hand was shaking.
Kallena turned, started to walk away.
Then she paused. Looked back over her shoulder.
And once again, that manic laugh.
"Matter of fact" She said nonchalantly, "Off you go."
Rage flickered in his chest. Weak. Tired. But there.
Why did she even come to ask any of that? Who was she to lecture me about being weak. I'd been weak my entire life.
He didn't know. It didn't matter. She'd done it. She'd looked at him and decided he didn't deserve to make it to the other side.
I'll kill her, Elias thought.
The thought was absurd. Impossible. He knew that.
But he thought it anyway.
I'll survive this. I'll make it to the island. I'll do all this, only so I can kill her.
The rage flickered again. A little stronger now.
And to that, first I'll stay awake.
He did not succeed in his first proclaimed mission though.
Elias was not breathing. He believed his eyes were open, but he saw nothing. Only blackness. Elias couldn't feel any part of his body.
Panic exploded through him.
Am I dead? Bullshit that damn toad!
He thrashed. And swung the fist that he no longer owned.
Then it actually moved, if barely. Something was holding him down. Heavy. Cold. Elias was buried
Elias forced himself to stop thrashing. Forced his brain to work.
Dig.
He moved his fingers. Slowly. They were stiff, clumsy, but they moved. He scraped at the snow above his face. Pushed it aside. Packed it down. Made space.
Air.
He gasped, sucked it in. It burned going down. Cold. Dry. But it was air.
He kept digging.
His hands found open space. He pushed up. The snow resisted, then gave. His head broke through.
Light.
Dim. Gray. But light.
Elias dragged himself out of the snow, rolled onto his side, gasped. His whole body ached. His skin felt raw, flayed. His fingers were white, the tips faintly blue.
He forced himself to sit up.
The rock was covered in snow. Not just dusted—covered. At least a foot and a half deep. More in places. It had piled up around him, over him, buried him completely.
He looked out at the water.
It wasn't water anymore.
The river had frozen.
Not just around the rock. Everywhere. As far as he could see. A vast expanse of white stretching in every direction, broken only by ridges of pressure ice and jagged cracks that ran like veins through the surface.
Elias stared.
This... this isn't...
It was impossible. The river didn't freeze. Not in summer. Not ever, as far as he knew. The water was too deep, the current too strong.
But it had.
He pulled himself to his feet. His legs shook, threatened to give out. He locked his knees, held himself upright through sheer stubbornness.
The snow was still falling. Lighter now, but steady. The wind had died down. The air was silent except for the faint hiss of flakes landing on ice.
Elias looked down at himself.
His clothes were frozen. Stiff. The fabric crackled when he moved. His hands were a mess—blistered, cracked, the skin peeling in places. Frostbite, maybe. Probably.
He flexed his fingers. They moved. Barely. But they moved.
I'm alive.
The thought felt distant. Unreal. He looked at the ice again. Tried to make sense of it.
And he was here.
Alone.
On a frozen river that shouldn't exist.
How?
The question sat in his mind, heavy and unanswerable. But the question itself, left Elias with a bit more choices, realistic ones.
He could stay on the rock. Wait. Hope someone came looking.
No one was coming.
He could try to walk across the ice. Head toward... where? He didn't even know which direction the island was. He'd lost his bearings when the ship threw him off.
North, he thought. The island is north.
But which way was north?
He looked at the sky. Overcast. No sun. No shadows. No way to orient himself.
Elias stepped off the rock onto the ice.
It held.
He took another step. The surface was uneven, slick in places, rough in others. Snow covered most of it, but beneath he could see the white-blue of solid ice.
He started walking. Anywhere was better than here.