The border of Cryalis was not a line on a map, but a wall of cold that took Ryn's breath away. One moment, the air was merely frigid; the next, it was a physical presence, sharp and crystalline, searing his lungs with every inhale. The Scoria, Kael's volcanic skiff, had set down in a secluded, snow-choked canyon just inside the empire, its magma-driven engines groaning in protest against the unnatural chill.
"This is as far as we go with the fireworks display," Kael announced, the heat from his body creating a small, personal thaw in the air around him. He nodded towards the distant, needle-like spires of the Cryalis capital, barely visible through the perpetual haze of ice fog. "Thalor and I will take the 'diplomatic' route. The two princes of fire and water paying a surprise visit to discuss… continental stability. It's enough of a circus to draw all the attention."
Thalor adjusted the cuffs of his robes, already glistening with a fine layer of frost. "And you, Ryn, will need to find your own way in. The palace defenses will be tuned to detect foreign magic, especially… conspicuous elements."
"Conspicuous elements," Ryn muttered, pulling his cloak tighter. "You mean the guy who's basically a walking snowman in a nation of snowmen? I'll blend."
Kael smirked. "You leave a trail of anxious frost, Fox. Your magic is all wrong. It's old. It's loud. Just get to the lower city, find a place to lay low, and we'll find you." He tossed Ryn a small, warm, obsidian stone. "Squeeze that if you're about to die. It'll get warm. It's the Vulmir equivalent of a polite cry for help."
With a final, confident nod, Kael and Thalor set off towards the main road, two figures of immense power walking openly into the lion's den—or in this case, the ice dragon's den.
Ryn, meanwhile, looked at the obsidian in his hand. "Right. Don't die. Solid plan."
He opted for what he did best: skulking. He moved from shadow to shadow, his natural agility serving him well as he slipped past the outer patrols. The capital city was a marvel of frozen architecture, bridges of spun ice, and towers that pierced the grey sky like shards of glass. It was beautiful, in a way that made a person feel small and temporary.
"The stone in your hand is a crutch," the Ice Fox's voice purred in his mind, a familiar shard of cold. "You rely too much on others, little thief."
"Hey, I call it 'networking'," Ryn thought back, ducking behind a cart laden with frozen fish. "And you're one to talk. You're literally relying on me to not die so you don't fade away."
"A temporary and deeply frustrating symbiosis."
He'd intended to find a seedy tavern in the lower districts, a place where a masked man wouldn't attract too much attention. But the streets were a labyrinth, and the signs were in a flowing, glacial script he couldn't read. One wrong turn led to another, and soon the polished ice-brick buildings gave way to dense, snow-laden pines.
"Okay, this is not the lower city," Ryn announced to the silent forest. "This is the 'getting hopelessly lost' part of the plan. My favorite."
"Your sense of direction is as reliable as your moral compass."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." He trudged forward, the snow crunching under his boots. The air grew even quieter, the city sounds fading completely, replaced by a profound, echoing silence that seemed to swallow all noise. The trees here were ancient, their branches heavy with robes of pure white snow.
And then he saw them.
At first, he thought they were just animals. A fox with fur like fresh powder darted between the trees. A great stag, its antlers looking as if they were carved from crystal, raised its head and regarded him with eyes like blue opals. A cluster of small, rabbit-like creatures with icicle whiskers hopped past his feet, their puffs of breath hanging in the air like tiny clouds.
But then he looked closer. The fox's paws left faint, glowing prints that faded after a second. The stag's breath didn't just mist; it crystallized into tiny snowflakes before hitting the ground. These weren't normal animals. They were spirits. Pure, elemental beings of ice.
Ryn froze, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his frost-blade. "Uh oh. This is the part where they swarm me, right? Because I'm an intruder in their magical glen?"
"Do not move," the Fox spirit commanded, her voice unusually tense. "Do not project fear."
He held his breath. The stag took a step closer, its crystalline hooves making no sound on the snow. The ice-fox stopped its play and tilted its head. The rabbit-things paused, their whiskers twitching.
And then… nothing.
The stag lowered its head and continued browsing on a patch of frost-lichen. The ice-fox yawned, revealing a tongue of pale blue, and curled up at the base of a tree. The rabbits hopped away. It was as if he were a rock, or a tree—a part of the scenery, utterly unremarkable.
"Hey," Ryn thought, bewildered. "They don't care. Why don't they care?"
"They sense me," the Fox replied, her tone shifting from tension to something akin to reverence. "They sense what you carry. To them, you are not an intruder. You are… a relic. A familiar scent on the wind."
Emboldened, Ryn took a tentative step forward. A horse-like spirit, its mane and tail flowing like liquid silver and its body seemingly formed of solid, translucent ice, stood dozing nearby. It was the most magnificent creature he had ever seen.
Overwhelmed by a sudden, profound exhaustion—a mix of the journey, the cold, and the bizarre peace of this place—Ryn slowly sank to his knees in the soft snow near the ice-horse. The cold should have been biting, but instead, it felt… comfortable. Like a blanket he'd always known.
"Heh," he mumbled aloud, his eyelids growing heavy. "Guess I'll just… take a nap. With the magical ice creatures. Totally normal Tuesday."
"Fool," the Fox murmured, but there was no heat in it. "You are safe here. This is a place of pure essence. They will not harm a vessel of the primordial frost."
As Ryn's consciousness faded, he felt a weight settle gently on his chest. He cracked an eye open. A small eagle, its feathers looking like layered shards of polished ice, had perched on him, its claws surprisingly warm through his tunic. It tucked its head under a wing and went still.
Then, more came. The ice-fox trotted over and curled up against his side. The rabbit-things nestled near his legs. Soon, he was surrounded by a slumbering pile of ice spirits, their bodies radiating a gentle, cool energy that seeped into him. They were drawn to him, not to his power, but to the ancient, quiet cold that slumbered within him—a cold that felt like home.
"Hey," he thought, his last conscious whisper to the entity in his mind. "They're… warm."
"No, thief," the Ice Fox spirit replied, her voice softer than he had ever heard it. "You are finally, truly, cold. And so, you are warm to them. Sleep. For once, you are where you belong."
And for the first time since the Solvane wedding, surrounded by mythical beasts in a frozen forest at the edge of the world, Ryn fell into a deep, untroubled, and utterly peaceful sleep.