The frost came before the girl did.
It blanketed the trees in a sheen of silver glass, lining the bark like crystal veins, clinging to fallen leaves in perfect silence. Not a flake of snow stirred. Not a whisper of wind. Just the stillness of a place that had been touched by something unnatural—and didn't know how to breathe again.
Kael stepped through the edge of the forest, his boots sinking slightly into ground that crunched with delicate ice. The heat that lived beneath his skin curled upward in response, flaring faintly at his collar, steaming the air in slow pulses. It wasn't resistance. Not yet. It was recognition.
Someone had passed through this place.
Someone like him.
He moved quietly, more out of instinct than caution. The village ahead was half-buried in frost. Homes leaned with roofs bowed under thick, glassy snow. Doors creaked as they hung open, their hinges locked in frozen rust. A child's toy cart sat untouched in the street, a layer of thin ice catching the late light like a gemstone. And everywhere—utter silence.
Kael knelt beside a frozen well at the village's center, dragging his fingertips along the rim of the stone. The air here felt dense, heavy with halted time.
He remembered something the Witness had said: You are not alone in your burden.
At the time, he hadn't believed it. Now, he wasn't so sure.
A flicker of movement above. A sound behind.
Kael rose slowly.
He didn't draw his blade, but his hand hovered near the hilt. A flame curled in his other palm, small and hollow, barely more than a whisper of heat.
"That's close enough."
The voice came from above and behind—young, female, tense. Kael said nothing.
He felt her land before he saw her. The frost creaked beneath her weight as she dropped behind him, light and poised. When he turned, he saw a mask first: bone-white, carved with spirals, worn with travel. Her cloak shimmered faintly, woven through with threads of winter's breath, the fabric gleaming like moonlight on still water.
She stood in a defensive stance, hand outstretched. A thin blade of ice formed along her forearm.
"You felt the ripple," she said.
Kael's eyes flicked to the village.
"You froze all this."
"It was necessary."
"It always is."
She didn't lower her weapon. He didn't raise his.
"You're the one with two," she said after a pause.
Kael gave no answer.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him. Then she made a decision and pulled off the mask.
Her face was narrow, eyes pale and storm-gray, framed by strands of silver hair that fell loose around her cheeks. Young, but hardened. She looked like she'd stopped being a child years before she had the chance to realize it.
"I'm Lira," she said. "Of the Shatterbound."
Kael's expression didn't change.
She waited for a name. When none came, she gave a tired half-smile and said, "Right. You're one of those."
"I'm not here for introductions," Kael said at last. "I'm looking for a Remnant."
Her eyes narrowed.
"And what will you do if you find one?"
Kael's answer was quiet.
"Claim it."
"And if someone else already has?"
He didn't blink. "Then we'll see if they deserve to keep it."
For a long moment, she said nothing. Her fingers twitched once. The ice along her arm melted slowly into the snow. Then she turned and walked toward a nearby ruin without looking back.
"Follow me."
They sat in the ruins of the town hall beneath the cracked remnants of a roof that had half-collapsed under the weight of frost. Kael's flame cast a steady orange glow against the stone, though it sputtered now and then, flickering with black edges—the shadows of Veyrith still stirring through his blood.
Lira crouched across from him on a broken bench, her mask beside her, her eyes reflecting the fire.
"You claimed Solvane first?" she asked.
He nodded.
"And Veyrith came after?"
"Not by choice."
"They never are." She pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them. "Mine is Elunai."
Kael glanced at her, a slight shift in posture. "Grief."
"And memory," she said, voice quieter now. "I don't dream anymore. Or if I do, they're never my dreams."
"You see their lives?"
"I feel their regrets."
She paused, then met his eyes.
"Have they started whispering to you yet?"
Kael didn't answer.
"They will," she said. "Solvane yells. Veyrith smiles. Elunai… just watches. And waits for you to break."
He didn't look away from the fire. "I've already broken."
"Then you'll fit in fine."
They stayed there for a while.
Neither of them asked the other to explain what they were doing—traveling alone, bearing the power of ancient gods, wandering a world that feared names older than kings. It was enough to know they had survived long enough to meet.
Eventually, Kael said, "You knew I was coming."
"I felt the shift yesterday. Like something peeled open across the sky."
"Veyrith."
"I guessed."
She reached into her cloak and pulled out a scrap of parchment—an old map, burned at the edges.
"There are more of us," she said. "You know that, don't you?"
"I've heard."
"Most of them won't talk. A few might. The rest…" She trailed off. "They'll try to take what you carry."
Kael's hand flexed.
"They're welcome to try."
She looked at him. "Spoken like Solvane herself."
He didn't deny it.
When she stood to leave, the frost stirred faintly around her. It didn't melt under his fire, but it gave him room to walk.
"I'm headed north," Lira said. "There's a shrine buried beneath the salt cliffs. Orrin's mark pulses there."
Kael exhaled slowly. "The Dreamt God."
"Hope twisted. Potential unmade." Her voice was quiet. "If I survive it, I'll know who I really am."
He gave her a single nod.
She slid her mask back into place, eyes vanishing behind the cold white bone. Then she stepped out into the mist and vanished between the trees.
Kael remained a little longer.
His fire flickered low. The heat no longer warmed. The shadows curved like teeth behind the flame.
Two Remnants lived inside him now. One fed on wrath. The other on deception.
But there were more.
And they were waiting.