The storm hadn't let up.
It hadn't even pretended to.
I sat with my back to the cave wall, legs stiff, arms crossed, watching snow swirl just beyond the mouth like it was waiting for me to blink. Wind howled down the pass in long, furious bursts. Not constant. Just mean. Like a drunk uncle kicking the door every few minutes to remind you he still existed.
Going out was suicide.
Sitting here doing nothing? Not much better.
I shifted toward the fire, a weak, flickering thing I'd barely coaxed to life with the last of my scrap wood. It wasn't warm so much as less cold. But it made a pocket of sanity, and that was enough.
"Guess it's dinner and drinks, then," I muttered.
I'd already cleared a flat patch of stone nearby and found a chunk of half-buried rock with just enough of a dip in it to catch water. Not a bowl. But if I angled it right near the fire, packed snow into it, and waited long enough? Boom. Instant survival cocktail. Tasted like dirt and regret, but at least it was wet.
I slurped from it, face buried awkwardly over the hollow, dribbling half of it down my chest.
Elegant? No.
Effective? Barely.
Dignified? Absolutely not.
But I'd take wet dirty lips over dry bones any day.
Next came the meat.
I unwrapped the bundle of smoked whatever-the-hell it was I'd collected before the climb. Some kind of rodent thing. It smelled like scorched sock, but it was protein, and my body didn't care.
I meant to nibble. Ration. Pace myself like a clever little survivalist.
I ate half the pile in three minutes.
My stomach still growled.
I flexed my hands, thicker now, heavier. My skin felt tight. My frame too wide. Whatever the bear had done to me, it came with a faster burn rate. Big bones need big fuel.
Which meant I was on a timer. Again...
But for now?
I sat by the fire, half full, half frozen, and only mildly feral.
The storm kept screaming.
I actually felt good.
More at peace than I had since... forever.
The bear was awake. Watching. Not through my eyes, but alongside them, like someone leaning against your shoulder without asking, because they knew they didn't need to. And for once? It didn't feel like pressure. It felt... right. Not comfortable. That's not what this was. But aligned. Balanced.
I didn't speak to it. Didn't need to.
It was content to exist.
And so was I.
The storm roared, trying to remind me I was small.
But for now, I wasn't alone. Not in here. Not in this body. Not in this fight.
We weren't resting.
We were watching.
And the snow could scream all it wanted. We'd heard worse.
Sure, I might be almost dying with a bear spirit in my ribcage and new hair in places I didn't authorize. He might not be pretty or even human, but he gets it. He gets the teeth and claws. I get to do the talking, or the screaming, depending on the day.
I just wonder which one of us would be counted as the pretty one?
Outside, the wind screamed in long, vicious pulses. A cold so sharp it felt like it had claws. Like it wanted in. Like it knew I was still breathing.
The fire was dying behind me. I'd already burned my last stick of wood, and the coals were fading to dull, useless orange. The heat was leaving. Not all at once. Just enough to remind me it never planned to stay.
I shifted. Sat forward. Stared into the dark.
After a while, that got old too.
This was the kind of stillness that makes you itch. The kind that creeps up on you in the spaces between breaths and whispers you should be moving. You should be fighting. You should be anything but here.
The bear didn't argue. It didn't stir.
Just... settled.
Comfortable, apparently. Fucker.
I stood up.
My knees popped. My spine crackled. I stretched my arms overhead until the joints shifted back into place, then moved toward the back of the cave.
It wasn't a big space.
Maybe fifteen meters deep. Sloped downward just a bit. The ceiling dipped low near the end, where icicles hung like stone fangs, frozen breath collecting at their tips.
The walls weren't smooth. Not carved. Not dungeon neat.
They were raw. Jagged. Like someone had punched a hole into the mountain with a goddamn temper tantrum and then left it to freeze.
Patches of rime clung to the rock in abstract patterns, like frost painted there by a drunk glacier. Some parts glittered faintly in the firelight. Most didn't. Most just looked like death.
No light back here. No System-lit torches, no glowing moss, no magical ambiance bullshit.
Just black. Just cold. Just rock.
I moved slowly, one hand on the wall to keep my balance. I didn't expect to find anything. No loot chest. No cozy corpse pile. No lovingly placed exposition.
But i continued in because lets face it, its either this or sit and listen to that infuriating wind.
Further in, near the back wall, I saw it.
Something small. Half-frozen. Frost-caked. Tucked in a low crevice just off the floor. At first it looked like a coil of vine or old rope. Then the leather caught the firelight. And the teeth glinted.
I crouched.
The thing was half-buried in a frost-veined crevice, a tangle of old leather and teeth, wild and crooked, like a necklace someone made by yanking trophies out of predators and stringing them together in a fit of spite. Ugly.
Despite my best judgement I reached toward it.
The System chimed.
[📘 SYSTEM ALERT — UNREGISTERED LEGACY ARTIFACT DETECTED]
Identification: Not Available
Classification: Obsolete / Deprecated / Non-Sanctioned
Stability Rating: Unpredictable
Recommendation: Destroy immediately.
Warning: Interaction may result in erratic behavioral shifts, memory conflicts, or permanent deviation from approved progression protocols.
Tip: When in doubt, stick to certified System-Approved equipment for a smoother, safer journey!
I blinked.
That was new. Most of the time, the System ignored Legacy shit like it was a bad smell in the hallway. But this? This, it had an opinion about. A warning. A recommendation to destroy.
That was rich.
I looked down at the thing again. The teeth weren't uniform. Wolf. Bear. Maybe cat. Hell, some looked human. Every one of them worn. Cracked. Scarred. Some filed to points, others jagged and raw like they'd been torn out mid-fight.
It didn't look made. It looked survived. Like someone had dragged it through hell and decided that was good enough for gear.
And now the System wanted it gone. Not studied. Not cataloged. Not sanitized or scraped for upgrade dust. Just... gone.
My lip curled. Of course it did. Of course the clean, color-coded, buff-optimized, class-worshipping machine would see something like this and flinch. No name. No stats. No instruction manual. Just a thing that refused to be broken.
I stared at it.
And I felt it staring back.
A flicker moved at the edge of the cave. Pale. Smiling. Gone again.
I looked at the necklace again.
It felt like a message.
Like a relic someone screamed into existence.
And I got it.
More than I should've.
Something ugly. Something forgotten. Something that had kept going anyway.
Yeah. I got that.
I hovered for a second.
I could leave it. Walk away. Smash it. Pretend I didn't see it.
But I didn't.
"Not gonna lie," I muttered. "If they want you destroyed, that kind of makes me want to help you out."
I picked it up.
The leather was stiff. Cold. Dry like it had been cooked in sun and frozen in silence.
The cave felt quieter.
Like something had stopped breathing.
I didn't think. I didn't plan.
I slipped it over my head.
And the world shattered.
The leather settled against my chest. Rough. Heavy. Too real.
And something shifted.
Not pain. Not fire.
Just... focus.
Like my body snapped into place.
Like the cave, the cold, the stone under my feet—all of it got sharper. Crisper.
I felt heavier in my skin. Not slow. Not weak. Just... there.
Rooted.
My breath caught.
What the hell was—
Movement.
I turned.
And saw it.
Perched just inside the cave mouth, framed by storm-swirled snow like it had stepped out of a painting of someone else's nightmare, sat the fox. White. Still. Grinning. Same posture as before. Same calm, smug, fuck-you-for-existing smile.
But this time?
It was looking straight at me.
And that grin, that stretched-too-far, too-perfect predator's smirk, widened. Like it was pleased. Like it had wanted me to put the damn thing on.
What.
The.
Fuck.
I froze. Every instinct screamed trap. Every thought flashed red. It wanted this? Why? Why now? Why smile? Gift? Leash? Joke?
I stepped forward, hand tightening into a fist. The fox didn't move. Didn't blink. Just watched. Like a noble at a zoo exhibit. Like it was proud of its new pet.
The necklace burned against my skin. Not heat. Awareness. Pressure. Weight.
And that smile stayed.
Mocking. Delighted.
I wanted to smash it off its face.
Tear it a new behind.
Wipe that smug expression into the mountain with my bare fucking hands.
I took another step.
The fox blinked. Once.
Waiting for the punchline.
Then the cave changed.
I didn't see anything move. Didn't hear a sound.
But I felt it.
Like the air thickened. Like the mountain had been holding its breath and just remembered I was inside it.
And then—
Pain.
Not sharp. Not sudden.
Just everything, all at once.
Like my body turned sideways through a hole that didn't exist.
Like my thoughts got scraped against something old and hungry.
I didn't scream. I don't think at least.
I whited out.
There was no body. Only pain.
Color. Pressure. Noise. But none of them in the right order.
Red. Green. Screaming. Spikes.
Then purple. Not light, but thought. Like someone taught the concept of agony how to rhyme.
I wasn't floating. I wasn't falling.
I was flayed. Layer by layer. Thought by thought.
Each one peeled off and flicked away like cinders in a dying wind.
And the wind burned.
Even without skin.
Even without shape.
Then, a flicker.
Blue.
A rhythm.
It danced. Not away from pain, but through it.
Like someone taught defiance to breathe.
It wasn't strong. Not yet.
Just a thread of something that wasn't them.
Not the System.
Not the mountain.
Not the fox.
Me.
Burning.
Blue.
I'm not a fucking template.
I'm not a training prompt.
A roar ripped through the void.
It didn't echo. It carved.
Reality flinched.
I didn't open eyes. I didn't have eyes.
But I saw it anyway.
The Bear.
Not as shape, but as presence.
Rage. Age. Bone. Blood. Root.
And I was with it.
Not in front. Not behind.
Back to back.
Two beasts locked in a spiral of defiance.
The world wanted us down.
We answered with FUCK YOU.
It screamed. We screamed louder.
Pain surged. We held.
Pain twisted. We tightened.
No plan. No strategy.
Just refusal.
Layered. Reinforced. Fed back and forth like a feedback loop of spite and survival.
Fuck.
You.
The flame burned brighter. The blue turned hot.
Not calm. Not wild.
Focused.
Anger with direction.
Hate with form.
I found myself.
Not whole. Not healed.
But centered.
I clenched something, maybe my teeth, maybe the fucking universe, and shoved.
Reality shattered like brittle glass.
The blue flame screamed into the cracks, tore through the static, and dragged me out.
My eyes snapped open.
No time to think.
Just motion.
The cave slammed into focus, hard and jagged and real, and above me, too close, too confident, was the fox. It leaned in, white fur rippling, those too-bright eyes wide with interest. Coming in for the punchline. Like it thought it had already won.
Then it saw me. Really saw me.
And froze.
Not a flicker. Not a blink.
Just... stopped.
I surged upright, muscles snapping into motion, teeth bared, flame still burning behind my ribs.
The fox flinched.
The smirk cracked.
And it vanished.
Just gone.
Like it had never been there.
Like it shouldn't have failed.
But it had.
Still here, motherfucker.