A vast stillness stretched across the land.
As though the world had exhaled in the night, and its breath had frozen over everything it touched.
Fields, once breathing with dew and life, now lay blanketed under pale frost—each blade of grass encased like a silent soldier entombed in glass. Trees stood like spears etched in silver, their bark stiff beneath layers of crystalline white. The road ahead was a thin ribbon of earth, cut through ice with the precision of a blade dragged against winter flesh.
Three figures walked its length.
Kel at the forefront.
Reina and Landon at his flanks.
Their breaths rose in muted swirls, dissolving into the air as every step stirred faint cracks in the frozen ground.
It was not yet fully day. The sun remained distant, hidden beneath a veil of cloud the color of steel washed in mourning. Yet the sky had begun to lighten—not with warmth, but with a stark, unforgiving clarity.
Kel's eyes swept their surroundings.
Not for threats.
For meaning.
A Scene That Should Not Be Beautiful
As they descended a slight incline, frost gave way to frozen wildflowers—small things, brittle and quiet, their petals sheathed in ice like delicate shards of stained glass.
Kel paused without warning.
Reina's gaze flicked toward him. Landon straightened, hand near his sword hilt.
No danger presented itself.
Only stillness.
Wind barely touched them.
Snow had fallen sometime before dawn, leaving the world muted, its contours smooth and untouched.
Kel tilted his head slightly, studying the horizon.
The frostfield stretched endlessly, white expanses only broken by distant silhouettes of skeletal trees, their branches reaching skyward like prayer or accusation.
His breath escaped slowly.
And without fully intending to speak, he murmured:
"Even in a climate this harsh… how serene this landscape is."
Reina and Landon glanced toward him. Kel's eyes remained forward, unmoving.
"How ironic," he continued softly, the faintest curve of a smile ghosting at the corner of his mouth, "to admire serenity born of something that kills."
His gloved fingers brushed lightly against a frost-coated branch as they passed—a fleeting contact that left a slight fracture on the icy casing.
"Ice," he said quietly, "is our greatest challenge on this path."
Faint white mist drifted from his lips with each word.
"Yet it is also… beautiful."
Landon huffed a breath, not quite laughter, though the emotion lingered faintly. "Beautiful, yes," he muttered. "Provided you're not freezing through your boots."
Kel's gaze slid momentarily his way.
Not chastising.
Observing.
Landon cleared his throat and looked away.
Reina, on the other hand, walked with uninterrupted calm.
Her breath measured.
Her posture undisturbed.
She glanced around, eyes sharp though softened by the quiet of the moment.
"Serenity is not always mercy," she said, her voice low but steady. "It often precedes the deepest freeze."
Kel met her eyes.
She did not smile.
But something akin to understanding flickered between them.
The Road Ahead
They continued walking.
The sky grew lighter, shifting from iron-grey to a thinner silver, like light pushing through beaten metal.
Their boots broke the ice in slow rhythm.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Each step revealed a darker layer of frozen earth beneath the surface.
Kel adjusted the strap of his satchel across his shoulder—a fluid motion, almost silent. Though his body hid it well, every inhale was measured. His curse pulsed faintly inside, dormant for now, biding its time like an animal waiting for weakness.
He spoke without looking at the others:
"We will need to reach the lower hills by nightfall."
Landon nodded. "We can cover that distance."
Then quiet.
Kel continued.
"Tomorrow morning, we will begin ascent toward the northeastern snow range."
Reina spoke without hesitation. "Where the barbarians hold territory?"
Kel did not slow.
"Yes."
Landon's brow knit. "We're crossing their lands? They don't take kindly to outsiders. Especially… nobles."
Kel's gaze remained unmoved.
"I will not approach them as a Rosenfeld."
His voice held no pride.
Only fact.
"Nor will I approach as anyone they consider worth ransoming."
Reina's tone darkened. "Then how?"
Kel's eyes shifted to the path ahead, the frost sharpening beneath each step.
"As someone they may find inconvenient to kill."
Landon stared at him for a long moment.
Then muttered, "That's… not remotely reassuring, you know."
Kel glanced his way briefly.
"It wasn't meant to be."
Observation
They passed a stretch where the frost had begun to crack naturally—lines webbing across the frozen soil like veins on glass. Reina slowed just enough to observe one of the fissures.
"This pattern," she said softly, crouching for a moment, her gloved finger tracing the split, "formed not from weight… but temperature shift."
Kel nodded behind her.
"An early sign."
Landon raised an eyebrow. "Of what?"
Kel continued walking.
Only when Reina stood and followed did he answer.
"The cold here is not consistent."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"It is layered."
Reina understood immediately.
Landon did not.
He looked between them, then muttered, "…Am I the only one who finds it concerning that both of you speak about weather like it's a weapon?"
Kel did not answer.
But a faint exhale escaped him—something that might have been amusement if it hadn't been swallowed by the cold.
Quiet Between Three
For a time, they walked in silence.
But it was not the absence of sound.
It was the type of silence that existed when three people moved in unspoken synchronization.
Reina walked with precise steps, measuring every shift in terrain.
Landon walked with weight, each footfall grounded not in brute force—but in refusal to falter.
Kel walked as though the world had already belonged to him once, and he now intended to take only what he required from it.
Not power.
Not witness.
Just a path.
His breath ghosted before him.
He spoke softly, more to the frost than to anyone in particular.
"In the game…"
The other two looked at him.
Kel did not stop walking.
His eyes remained fixed ahead, but his tone dropped—ancient, quiet.
"Scarder Lake was the only place colder than this."
Landon blinked slowly. "…You speak of this world like you've seen its future."
Kel's lips moved almost imperceptibly.
"…Perhaps I have seen a variation of it."
Reina watched him carefully.
Kel looked toward the hills.
"And if the lake mirrors what I once knew," he murmured, "then this serenity is simply the first veil."
The frost glimmered.
"Beneath it lies something that does not sleep."
A Moment of Stillness
They approached a narrow bend where a frozen stream cut across the path. The water beneath the ice was visible, creeping in slow motion, as though time itself was thickening.
Kel stepped onto the frosted bank and paused.
He inhaled.
The silence pressed deeper here.
Snow drifted gently from the sky, too sparse to be called snowfall, too deliberate to be random.
He spoke softly.
"This place looks peaceful."
His eyes followed the line where the moonlight had lingered before dawn.
"But serenity without warmth is not peace."
Reina looked at him quietly.
Landon frowned, cautious.
Kel's expression softened, barely.
"Peace," he murmured, "requires life."
He turned his head just slightly, the corner of his profile catching the pale light.
"This," he said, "is the stillness before endings."
The wind stirred, brushing frost off distant branches.
Reina's hand rested lightly over her sword hilt—calm, but ready.
Landon shifted, weight settling more firmly under his stance.
Kel stepped forward.
"Let's move."
And so they walked past that frozen stream, leaving no footprints behind—each step pressing frost, then returning it to stillness with reverent silence.
Conclusion – When Breath Fogged Into Resolve
As the day advanced, the sky brightened only with cold. No warmth touched the earth.
Yet, within that inhospitable landscape, three figures carved a direction through stillness.
Kel walked, eyes calm, as if this atmosphere—this bitter beauty—had always been familiar to him.
Reina walked, disciplined, each motion precise, reading patterns in ice like one who could decipher death's handwriting.
Landon walked, breath steady despite the sting of air, shouldering fatigue as if it were simply another layer of frost forming on him.
They passed another field of frozen wildflowers.
Kel slowed.
His voice came again, quiet as falling snow:
"The frost does not choose mercy."
He looked slightly toward Reina and Landon.
"So neither should we."
Landon let out a long exhale.
"…You really have a talent for saying things that keep us from resting easy, don't you?"
Reina spoke softly.
"Rest is not ease."
She kept walking.
"Rest is simply preparation for the next step."
Kel's eyes traced the path ahead.
His breath condensed slowly into the air.
"Then let us rest only when needed."
A pause.
The faintest ripple in the ice-blue of his gaze.
"And walk until there is no frost left to challenge us."
No one responded.
There was no need.
Their silence… accepted it.
The road stretched beyond sight.
Ahead lay snow, sky, mountain.
Ahead lay Scarder Lake.
Ahead lay the place where curses die.
And until then—
Three figures moved without hurry.
Without hesitation.
As if each step carved a mark where nothing living dared to leave one.