The northern highway stretched endlessly beneath a sky the color of cold steel. Matrin Black kept his eyes on the narrow ribbon of road that cut through miles of white wilderness, his fingers wrapped loosely around the steering wheel. The heater hummed faintly, not quite enough to chase away the chill that seeped through the car's windows. Out here, winter ruled without apology.
For hours, the only companions he had were the whisper of wind and the steady rhythm of falling snow. Each flake dissolved against his windshield like a tiny sigh, delicate yet relentless. The farther he drove, the more the world began to feel untouched—clean, unburdened, endless. It was a silence he had longed for more than he admitted.
Matrin exhaled slowly, watching his breath cloud faintly in the cooled air. This was it, he told himself. One last project before deciding what comes next.
He glanced at the camera sitting on the passenger seat beside him, the old leather strap frayed from years of use. His mother's camera. The only thing of hers he ever kept. Every time he held it, he felt that soft tug of memory—warm hands guiding his, her laugh echoing behind the lens, telling him he saw the world differently.
"I wonder what you'd say now, Ma," he murmured.
Would she be proud? Or worried?
Maybe both.
The GPS signal flickered uncertainly on the screen. Beyond this point, signal tower coverage grew spotty. He didn't mind. In truth, he found it comforting. Being unreachable meant fewer interruptions. Fewer questions about his next big project, next city, next move. Fewer reminders that he didn't really have a home anymore—just places he passed through.
The North was different, though. People talked about it like it had a soul. A place that didn't just exist—it breathed. Lived. Watched.
He didn't know if he believed that.
But he wanted to.
A gust of wind rocked the car slightly. The snowfall thickened, the flakes swirling like frantic dancers. Matrin slowed the vehicle, leaning forward as though closeness would sharpen his view.
"Easy now," he muttered to himself.
The daylight had begun its quiet descent, painting the horizon in muted blues and purples. Winter days ended quickly here. He knew he had to reach the town before darkness fully settled, or else—
He didn't let his mind finish the thought.
Ahead, the sign appeared through the snow, its wooden surface frosted over but still readable.
Aurelia Fjord — 5 km
He felt something shift in his chest. A strange anticipation. Almost… a tug.
"Almost there."
He pressed the accelerator gently.
The road narrowed further, curving around frozen pines that stood like silent guardians. The trees grew taller, denser, heavy with layers of white. In the dim light, they looked ancient—like remnants of an old world that refused to yield to time.
Matrin couldn't resist it anymore.
He pulled over.
The car tires crunched against the packed snow. He stepped out, immediately greeted by the sharp bite of northern air. It cut through his clothes, crisp and merciless. He inhaled deeply—a burning cold—but invigorating.
He lifted his camera and framed the landscape.
Click.
The shutter sound cracked through the silence.
Click.
Another.
He captured the open white expanse, the haunting trees, the soft gradient of fading daylight. And then he paused, lowering the camera.
There was a feeling—faint but unmistakable—that someone, or something, was watching. Not threatening. Just… aware of him.
He shook his head and laughed under his breath.
"Already imagining things. Great start, Matrin."
He lingered another moment, letting the cold ground him, then returned to the car and continued driving.
The road dipped, revealing a valley draped in winter. Lights glimmered faintly in the distance—soft, warm, golden. A small town nestled against the frozen lake. Chimneys releasing curling plumes of smoke. Houses huddled close, like old friends sharing heat.
Aurelia Fjord.
By the time he reached the outskirts, evening had settled fully. Street lamps cast halos of warm glow onto the snow-covered paths. It looked peaceful, untouched—straight out of the kind of storybooks he used to read as a kid.
He drove toward the lodge he had booked: Northstar Haven.
The building came into view at the end of a pine-lined lane—two stories of rustic wood and stone, lanterns hanging beside the door, a small sign carved with elegant looping letters. Smoke drifted from its chimney. Yellow light spilled from the windows, bathing the snow around it in a soft amber hue.
Matrin parked and stepped out, rolling his shoulders to loosen the stiffness from hours of driving.
The air felt somehow heavier here—colder, but purer.
He grabbed his duffel bag, slung his camera over his shoulder, and walked up the steps. Before he reached the door, it opened with a soft creak.
A woman stood there.
She was wrapped in a thick winter sweater, dark hair braided loosely down one shoulder, cheeks flushed from the cold. Her eyes, a grey-blue reminiscent of frozen lakes, held a quiet caution.
And for a moment—just a moment—Matrin forgot how to breathe.
"Are you Matrin Black?" she asked, her voice soft yet steady, like someone used to solitude.
"Yes," he replied. "And you must be Elara Venice."
She nodded. "Welcome to Northstar Haven. The storm is getting worse, so you're lucky you made it before night."
He glanced over his shoulder. The snow did seem heavier now, swirling more aggressively under the lantern light.
"Yeah," he said. "Looks like I cut it close."
"Very close," she said, stepping aside so he could enter. "Come in. You shouldn't be out in this cold."
He stepped inside.
Warmth enveloped him instantly, thawing the numbness in his hands and face. The lodge smelled faintly of pinewood and cinnamon. A fire crackled softly in the stone fireplace. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling, and soft rugs covered the floor. It felt… lived-in. Safe.
Elara closed the door behind him. "Your room is upstairs. I'll show you where everything is."
"Thanks," he said, though his attention lingered on her features—the quiet strength in her posture, the subtle hint of loneliness in her eyes.
She caught him staring and looked away quickly.