The hospital room hummed with the sound of several plug-in heaters at full blast. Steady beeps pulse through the air clashing with the soft whooshing of oxygen. As the pale sunlight filtered through the blinds, Yamri lay curled beneath stiff white sheets, her body small and boney against the hard bedding.
Her parents sat close, both mother and father hunched into the side of the near-metal bedframe. Her mother reaches out to hold Yamri's hand. The blue hue of her skin felt freezing to the touch. Her father reached up to turn the hospital monitor towards himself, his eyes were swollen and tired, searching the numbers–trying to make sense of anything.
"You're going to be okay sweetheart. The doctor will be back any moment." her mother whispered, her voice breaking mid sentence.
Yamri turned her stiff neck to the window and winced at the sound of a crack. The oxygen mask on her face made a limp flapping sound. Staring at the filtered sunlight and the green peaks of trees, Yamri's eyes filled with viscous tears that hardened into ice on the bottom side of her eyelids. Her father quickly reaches over her, breaking the crusted tears from her eyes and tightening his jaw.
"We'll fix this, Melon. We'll....we'll do whatever it takes, I promise." Her father's proclamation held the room together.
The sound of slow beeping took over any thoughts of the outside. Then, the doctor cracked the door open with a knock. "We managed to find him! This surgeon has a perfect success rate. One hundred percent. There's no reason to be afraid, so if we act now, the procedure will stabilize her symptoms. She'll be able to feel stronger after it's over. All we need is the parent's consent."
Her father quickly nodded, squeezing her mother's shoulder. They turned to Yamri, eyes now softened, searching for any hint of excitement. "We'll go through with it," he commanded, though the words sounded more fearful than intended.
Yamri's lips quivered into the faintest smile. She lifted her hand, giving a thumbs up. "Thank you," she muttered. Her gaze moved between them, glassed and hazed over.
The anesthesiologist approached, adjusting their mask. "Are you ready? Just breathe normally, and you'll be asleep before you know it."
Yamri's breath fogged the oxygen mask, then she looked to her father. "Do you think we can...go hiking when I'm better, dad?". Her smile was crooked and flimsy, but still held the warmth of hope.
"When you're better, we'll go hiking everyday if you want, my Melon! I promise." her father is now shouting. Her parents stood by her side with tears in their eyes as Yamri's eyelids became heavy. She looked at her parents one last time. Her mother stroked her hair, her father whispering that they loved her. Then the little resistance she had could no longer hold the sleep at bay.
The world Darkened. Her parents' faces faded, swallowed by black. This wasn't sleep. This was the end.
At first it was only a weightless drifting feeling, then there was a sharp pain. Endlessly stabbing her shivering frame through her bones.
There was a swirling and unfathomable shift in her consciousness. Suddenly she was formless—unshapened. Then she felt a presence pressing down on her, first a soft and warm light covering her vestige like feathers. After a moment there was a second presence. A dark and vengeful dread scattered around the corners of her mind.
Something cold leers at the strings that hold her mind together. "Let go," a raspy voice spread a glacier of sound into the back of her soul.
Yamri could feel her soul shivering. A tightening pressure within the darkness had traced the edges of the unknown, then a sudden gaze fell upon her.
She felt as though she knew that voice. A vibration shook her spirit–unheard, yet unmistakable. A name carved itself into the very chill itself. Kyurem.
The darkness cracked and the feeling of being drowned overtook the abstract senses. "No!" Yamri shrieked.
She flailed and tumbled through her own consciousness, grasping at anything. "Stop, No! Ahhh!" The cold and dark pit that seeks to consume her wilts at a sudden light.
Finally, she found the hold of warmth and softness from earlier sweeping the edges of her mind up and out of the depths of darkness. "Arise, our Swan."
She could feel her senses reformed, shaped into something unfamiliar. The moment she could, she snapped her eyes open, releasing herself from the awful nightmare.
Gone was the hospital room. Gone were her parent's faces.
Instead, she lay on the frozen ground of a twisting and gray forest, walls of frost curled into spirals like glasswork, monstrous yet breathtaking. But the cold stole her breath before she could marvel. The air was suffocating and the ground was sapping all the heat from her body.
She staggered herself upright, "Mom...dad?" Her jaw moved in an unsettling way. The feeling in her mouth was not how she remembered and the sound from her lips shook with a refined resonance. She lifted her hand up to her face, but her attempt to wipe her eyes failed. Instead, a velvet-soft paw, tipped with hard unfamiliar claws, scraped across her muzzle. The sudden tactile strangeness of the fur stole her breath. Her limbs moved easily—too easily. The stiffness, the ache, the frailty of her body was gone. In its place... something more stable. But it felt so unfamiliar.
Her heart raced. "Nothing is making sense."
And from somewhere deep within the labyrinth around her, the voice whispered again.
"Freeze."
The dungeon groaned, a labyrinth of frost and deep shadows. Yamri pressed her back to a wall of slick ice, sleeves trembling in her grip. Every breath fogged the air, curling upwards like it wanted to escape faster than she could.
Her heart hammered. "This isn't real. It can't be real."
Yet the cold bit deep into her fur, and the floor beneath her paws felt too solid to be fake, and too slick to be grounding.
After taking a moment to survey her surroundings, she could see a faint light revealing a small passage to her left.
She stumbled up to her feet, brushing past icicle drapes that clinked like glass chimes. The thick forestry branched inward like claws. The sky above was sealed by frost, but there were cracks that let some light seep through. No sun though–and no escape.
Suddenly she could feel a pull, "Do not fear, this is the way," warmth echoed through her body, whispering into her gut. The push and pull of a Swan.
She hesitated, before looking back, then back again–staring into the yawning corridor on her left. The air shimmered with snow crystals and finally, Yamri swallowed. "I don't know what's happening, but this feeling..." She puts a hand to her chest, feeling the rhythm of her newfound instinct.
She veered left, dodging sharp Ice shards, squeezing herself through the small hole. It was surprisingly easy to pass through.
"I guess it pays to be small." She thought.
While walking, she found herself at the threshold of a boxed room with three large corridors. Frozen figures with unknown forms and eerie poses are scattered throughout the floor. Some are chipped and broken. Some were completely shattered.
She tiptoes through the snow, leaving a trail of small paw prints that stain the room. Creeping forward, Yamri is drawn by the faint shimmer of something caught in the icy glow.
A figure loomed at the far end of the chamber—half-buried in frost. As she neared, her breath hitched. The figure's form was clear and readable. Locked in place. Arms outstretched, face twisted in dread, trapped in translucent ice.
Her paws shook. It's just a statue. It's just a statue. She chants to herself.
She reached out, fingertips barely brushing its surface–then a crack shot through the figure with a piercing snap. Yamri gasped and stumbled back as the whole shape fractured. Shards of frost collapsed in a cascade, leaving nothing but powder and jagged pieces scattered across the floor. The sound of hard ice hitting the ground rang through the corridors.
She swallowed hard. "Who... who would even make these? Why?"
The question hung unanswered.
Then the air shifted.
A wave of pressure suddenly crushed the entire room, heavy and suffocating. Her chest seized as frost crept along the walls, dimming what little light had seeped in from the ceiling.
A voice rolled through the cold and cavernous chamber.
"My lord, it seems as though we've been here before." A soft and muffled voice invaded Yamri's ears from the corridor. It was close enough to hear, which means potential danger.
Yamri ducked down, scrambling behind a jagged pillar of thick ice. Her whole body quaked. She dared not breathe.
Shadows stretched along the chamber wall as a massive shape stomped into view. Kyurem. His jagged body scraped the frozen faces of stone, heavy and icy vapor seeping steadily from his jaws. And at his side, smaller but sharp-eyed, walked a Glaceon. A blue light traced faintly along his fur, marking his silhouette with a glow.
"It appears we have. These pokemon were frozen just before we arrived. I hope their dreams are full of peace." Kyurem grumbled.
"That's the same voice I heard before I ended up here." Yamri thought. The pressure in the air causes even her inner voice to be meek and hoarse.
Behind them were a few Cryogonal jingled in, orbiting in a loose circle around Kyurem. They shoot mists of cold air at his body at different intervals.
Kyurem's voice rumbled again. "Ran. Are you able to set up here? It is cold enough, yes?"
The Glaceon tilted his head toward the ground that had tiny paw prints laid prominently in them. His gaze flicked down the path of printed snow toward Yamri's hiding place. His eyes lingered, as though he knew. But he said nothing.
Instead, he answered coolly, "This dungeon is too young. The floor's orientation will change too fast. If I set up my things here, we'll have to move around too much."
Kyurem's growl reverberated, vibrating Yamri's chest. "The Cryogonal need a lot of space, Ran. It would serve well for them." There was an immediate change in the pressure. A heavy and overbearing weight pressed on Yamri's body like boulders. Kyurem sighs, and the pressure that was building up fades slowly. "But, you are right, Ran. We cannot sustain ourselves here." He takes a step, knocking an entire statue to its side, crashing into the stone floor. The statue breaks into several large pieces and makes a loud shattering sound, causing Yamri to jump.
Kyurem lifts his head up and looks around the room for a moment in a sudden vigilance. He turns his head towards a particular frozen pillar, staring intently.
Ran's ears flicked back. He didn't flinch or cower—he spoke with a quiet certainty. "I believe I know of another place, my Lord." Ran stares directly at Yamri's position as well. "However, it is not well hidden." His last words have a certain exaggerated tone.
A long silence corrodes the room. Yamri pressed her paws to her muzzle, forcing her breath silent.
At last, Kyurem exhaled a fog of icy vapor. "Hnn. My husk will not hold for much longer, Ran. We cannot afford to be picky any longer. Take us."
"Yes, Lord Kyurem." Ran replied.
The Cryogonal jingled in agreement, their discordant chimes echoing until Kyurem turned and moved on. Ran followed, his eyes flicking one final time toward Yamri's pillar. The look was brief, but long enough to know that he was truly aware of her. Then he trots off to Kyurem's side.
Then they were gone.
The weight slowly lifted from the chamber, leaving only shards of frost and Yamri's shallow, ragged breaths.
The cool air, which was once bearable, is now left with a thick chilling undertone. Yamri hugs herself in a shiver, then lets out a gasping sigh of relief.