The wind that brushed against Caspien's skin was as cold as the expression masking his face. His eyes, deep and blue as the northern sea, swept over the snow-laden border stretching endlessly before him. This year, the cold had grown harsher than ever, as if the land itself had frozen to death. The northern folk were long accustomed to such winters, yet this one felt merciless, biting deeper than the rest.
In this frozen region, blacksmiths held an indispensable role, vital to both survival and trade. The relentless cold dulled metal faster than in warmer lands, making their craft essential. Most forges were built partly underground to preserve heat. Iron was mined from the mountains surrounding the border often laced with traces of frost ore, a mineral believed to strengthen steel against the cold's brittleness.
Here, blacksmithing was more than a trade—it was a lifeline. Yet something else drew countless mages northward. When the skies bloomed with ribbons of shifting light, aurora harvesters climbed the highest ridges with crystalline nets and silver-tipped poles enchanted for endurance, capturing threads of light before dawn faded. The luminous vials of skyflame distilled from this light were rare, powerful—able to illuminate, heal, and enchant.
Skyflame was the reason Caspien had come to the northern region. But now, it seemed there was more stirring beneath the frozen surface than what met the eye.
"What could be so wonderful in this frozen corner of the empire that made the Duke of Danville pay a visit?"
The voice behind him was calm but carried weight. Caspien tore his gaze from the distant mountains and turned to meet a familiar, unyielding pair of golden eyes.
"The land looks nearly dead beneath the frost," Caspien said evenly, "yet the mountains feel… alive."
"If it's skyflame you're after, then you may have come to the wrong place," Duke Rohane said, his sharp tone matching his reputation. "Though with your abilities, I doubt it would truly benefit you. Besides, this year's harvest was poor, the cold has been far too severe."
Caspien chuckled inwardly. Something about the mountain felt… off.
"I'd like to try my luck," he said. "I might come up with one of high quality."
Duke Rohane studied him in silence. On the other hand, Caspien's expression remained unreadable. Cold and composed.
"There's only one clan of aurora harvesters I know capable of such quality," the duke sighed. "Though I am curious why you came here yourself."
"Ah, about that…" Caspien paused. "I encountered something odd a few days ago. I suspect it is connected to somewhere in this northern region. But it seems the mountain is off-limits for visitors."
Duke Rohane's expression hardened.
"What could be so interesting in that mountain that you insist on going there? Teleportation won't work; the aurora's energy is too thick. Even if you managed to bypass it, the flow of time is so slow it would take months to arrive."
"But isn't that better than traveling and freezing to death?" Caspien teased, though he had no intention of doing anything reckless. Now that he knew something lurked in the mountain, pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.
"Nonetheless, I only came for the elixir. I'll take my leave afterward."
"I'll have one of my men lead the way," the duke said, turning to start walking. "After that, you must leave before the barrier rises at nightfall. Otherwise, you may not be able to return today."
Caspien followed, pondering the duke's words. "Seems like there's more going on here than I've been told. Perhaps Your Grace could enlighten me a bit."
Duke Rohane glanced at the distant mountains, sighing heavily. "You didn't become the youngest duke in the empire for nothing. I know you did your research before coming, despite tight security." He continued walking.
"As you can see, something is happening in that mountain. A few months ago, some harvesters noticed a shift in the atmosphere. At first, they thought the whispers were hallucinations from the aurora. But it was darker… more powerful… evil."
Caspien's mind remained grounded as they moved. The force he had sensed in the mountain was powerful, malicious, and almost enchanting.
"A few days after the incident, a blade maker was seen heading there. That same night, a surge of aurora energy scattered across the area. That's when teleportation became impossible. It also distorts the flow of time, complicating travel."
"Well," Caspien mused, "someone must be powerful enough either to manipulate the aurora to keep whatever's inside contained, or to stop anyone from entering."
The duke sighed.
"No one knows what happened next. The elders developed a protective barrier that defies any magic attempting to bypass it. But it appears only at nightfall. Even so… no one knows if it could truly hold whatever lies inside."
***********
"Your Grace? Is something the matter?"
Theron's voice snapped Caspien back to reality. He glanced at his assistant, standing a few meters away with a curiosity etched on his face.
"What is it?" He asked, eyes returning to the documents.
A day had passed since the northern trip, and though images were forming in his mind, fitting the pieces together remained like solving a puzzle with missing parts.
"The elixir is ready for spell chanting. Do you want to do it later?" Theron asked.
"No, it must be done today," Caspien said, signaling him to hand over the vial.
It took only seconds. The bluish glow faded, leaving the elixir shining with pure white light. Caspien hovered mid-air, the vial illuminating his composed expression.
"Your Grace has seemed occupied since yesterday. Is this related to the northern matter?" Soon, Theron asked.
"There's something in that place," Caspien began, darkening. "Born in the mountain… or awakened. Investigating about it now would be difficult. And with Duke Rohane's presence being there would only create tension if we engaged."
Theron nodded thoughtfully. "That's possible… given Duke Rohane's strict nature. By the way, Your Grace, you have a visitor. I almost forgot."
"I believe I've taught you well how to handle this," Caspien said casually, brow arched.
His assistant scratched the back of his neck. "Given his nature, I doubt the saint will take no for an answer."
Caspen's expression suddenly shifted. He hovered mid-air, sighing. "Send him in."
"I don't think that's necessary," a voice echoed from the doorway, followed by a soft chuckle. "I already invited myself in."
"What is it? It must be urgent for you to leave the temple in secret," Caspien began, eyes still on the papers.
The man just laughed softly. "Still cold as ever, I see. And a little inappropriate to greet a saint,"
"You've already invited yourself comfortably. What more could a saint ask for?" Caspien replied in return, sarcasm tinting his words.
"A lot, really," the man muttered. "But first I'd like to ask if that is distress I see in your face."
Caspien shook his head, lighting a cigarette and leaning back. "It's usually means nonsense whenever you talk 'a lot.' If you're here to ruin my mood, better return to your temple and pray. Isn't that your job, Saint Alaric?"
"My, I thought you'd forgotten how to say my name," Alaric said, smiling playfully. However, his expression turned serious in a split of second.
"I know you don't act recklessly without reason. You'd rather kill than to offer help. So why the sudden change of heart? Why went so far beyond your grid?"
The atmosphere thickened. But Caspien remained composed, watching the man who was once his childhood friend before sainthood took him in.
"Why stick your nose in someone else's business? Was becoming a saint isn't hard enough?" he teased, more to provoke than ask.
Alaric's playful expression returned.
"It's also my business now… especially if dark sorcery is involved," he said, meeting his gaze meaningfully. "But I never thought Duke Rohane's daughter would be so… interesting that I started enjoying her company."
Instinctively, Caspien's jaw clenched. Calm outwardly, his blood boiled inwardly. He wanted to wipe the irritating smile off his childhood friend's face. One thing he'd always knew was they shared a tendency to take interest in peculiar things. However, this time it wasn't mere curiosity.
It was the same amusement he wore toward the woman his friend had begun taking an interest in as well. An interest that should have remained his alone.