The morning came with no warmth. Pale light spilled over the peaks, washing the world in silver and shadow. The wind had quieted, but the stillness it left behind felt… wrong. Seraphira sensed it first, a faint tension in the air, like a held breath.
Kaelreth was already on his feet, cloak whispering against the snow. His gaze swept the ridgeline, every movement of his head deliberate. "We're being watched," he murmured.
Her hand instinctively went to the dagger at her belt. By who?
Not who, he said grimly, but which.
Before she could ask what that meant, the silence shattered. Figures emerged from the drifts, cloaked in white furs and armor etched with the jagged sigil of the Frostborne, a faction loyal to no throne but their own hunger. Their leader stepped forward, his helm shaped like the skull of some ancient beast.
"You're far from your realm, Underworld King," the man said, voice muffled but cold as the snow beneath them. His gaze slid to Seraphira. "And you… you're worth more than your weight in gold to the right buyer."
Kaelreth's expression didn't change, but the shadows at his feet deepened, curling outward like ink in water. "If you value your lives, turn back now."
The Frostborne laughed a sharp, brittle sound. "We've already been paid."
Steel hissed from scabbards, the sound tearing through the cold air. Seraphira's pulse spiked. She'd trained with blades before, but never with Kaelreth at her back, never with her life dangling by such a fragile thread.
The first attacker lunged, his sword gleaming in the pale sun. Seraphira sidestepped, her dagger catching his wrist before he could strike. A twist, a shove, and he stumbled into the snow. But another was already upon her, forcing her backward.
She barely saw Kaelreth move. One moment, he stood still; the next, shadows erupted around him, swallowing two men whole. Their screams echoed briefly before being silenced, leaving only drifting black mist in their place.
The sight froze her, not in fear, but in the bone-deep awareness that the man before her was something no mortal weapon could touch.
"Behind you," he called, his voice like a lash.
She spun just in time to parry another strike, her muscles burning with the effort. The clash of metal rang sharp and bright against the vast, cold world. They moved together without speaking, her speed and precision weaving with his devastating, otherworldly power.
When the last man fell, the snow was marred with shadows and red. The leader lay still, helm cracked, the beast-skull shattered.
Kaelreth turned to her, eyes glinting like molten stone. "Now you've tasted what hunts in the open," he said. "Are you ready for what waits in the dark?"
Her breath clouded between them. "If I say no… will it matter?"
He gave a faint, dangerous smile. "Not in the slightest."