Dawn arrived not with light, but with silence.
The world held its breath beneath a sheet of moon-pale snow. Even the wind, ever restless in these northern lands, hushed itself as if uncertain whether to disturb the first steps toward a path that could either cleanse or claim lives.
Inside his tent, Kel opened his eyes.
He lay still for a moment, listening to the subdued tremor of his heartbeat beneath his palm. The cold had crept in during the night, clinging to the canvas walls, but he had slept—a rarity so profound it took several seconds for him to believe it.
Then came the familiar ache in his chest, a soft warning, not yet aggravated.
He exhaled slowly.
So it begins.
⭑ Rising
Kel pushed himself upright, movements controlled. His hair, slightly damp from melted snow, fell across his forehead. He brushed it back with fingers that trembled no more than the tent fabric swaying outside.
He dressed simply, as he always did when expecting strain. A dark wool tunic layered beneath a long, deep-grey traveling coat lined with worn ivory fur. Leather straps wrapped around his chest beneath the coat—to stabilize his breathing. It had been his own modification, designed after a night spent coughing blood.
His boots, dusted from yesterday's snow, were retightened. Gloves—thin leather lined with silk—were tested for grip. He secured his hair loosely, some strands deliberately left forward to obscure his features.
Kel stood.
The faint warmth from the bedroll faded when he moved away. A breath later, he parted the tent flap.
⭑ Into the Morning
Outside, dawn painted the world in tones of ash and muted silver. The snow that had fallen during the night lay thick, untouched except for where barbarian guards had walked their rotations. Thin plumes of smoke rose from a few early fires.
And waiting directly ahead, leaning against the nearest tent pole, was Reina.
She had risen earlier still.
Her cloak—white wolf fur layered over dull grey leather—draped over her with the serenity of winter's claim. Snow dusted her dark hair, some flakes clinging to her lashes. She did not shiver, though the bite of air kissed her exposed knuckles.
Her hands were clasped before her, fingers interlaced not from nervousness, but from stillness. Control.
The moment their eyes met, she inclined her head.
"Good morning," she said quietly.
Kel's breath clouded the air. "Did you sleep?"
Reina's lips parted in a faint curve—not quite a smile. "More than you expected."
He wondered if she had been listening for his movements the entire night.
But he nodded.
She stepped beside him without another word.
As they began walking through the silent camp, another figure emerged from a tent to their left—Landon.
He wore his travel gear from yesterday, but the way it sat on him felt different. Like armor chosen by a man prepared to weather ruin if needed.
He did not greet them with words. He stepped forward, falling into stride just half a step behind Kel and slightly to the right—his chosen place.
Kel glanced at him briefly. Landon did not meet the gaze. He didn't need to.
He was already watching everything else.
Reina adjusted her pace subtly so Kel remained between them—without making it obvious. She looked forward, posture calm, expression unreadable.
It was not formation.
It was instinct.
⭑ The Fourth
The sky lightened faintly, though the sun remained concealed behind the mountains ahead.
Their destination.
Scarder Lake lay past its ridges—close in distance, but separated by terrain that did not recognize mercy.
Snow crunched beneath their boots, slow and rhythmic.
As they cleared the last row of tents, just beyond the perimeter of the camp, a voice broke the silence.
"You left without waiting."
Kel turned slightly.
Chief Sera approached from the northern side, her cloak a pale shroud laced with intricate bone embroidery. Her white hair, long and unbound, drifted behind her like an omen. Frost had traced delicate crystals along her braid ties.
"Good morning," Kel said.
"It is," she replied, "for winter."
She fell into step beside them with no further discussion, as if her place had never been questioned. Her gaze moved over Reina and Landon briefly, acknowledging them without judgement.
Reina returned the nod.
Landon simply shifted his posture—his hand now closer to the leather-bound hilt of his sword.
Sera's lips curved faintly.
"You expect trouble," she noted.
"I expect the world," Landon answered.
"Ah," she murmured. "Spoken like earth."
Kel looked ahead again.
The path to the mountain stretched beyond the camp's final watchtower, lined only by sparse trees with branches weighed by snow. The wind carried no scent except frost and wet bark.
They walked.
⭑ Snowfall and Silence
Time passed in the sound of footsteps and faint breath.
The sky, now an expanse of lead-grey, released another veil of snow—soft, steady. It settled upon their coats, in their hair, upon Kel's eyelashes until Reina reached forward lightly, brushing a few strands from his brow.
He did not flinch, but his gaze shifted to her briefly.
"You will not see the path clearly if it continues," she said simply.
Kel nodded once.
Sera watched the exchange, her expression unreadable except for the quiet flicker of understanding.
"So careful with him," she said, not accusatory.
Reina did not reply. She didn't need to.
Because Landon did.
"That is our purpose," he said, voice even.
Sera smiled a little.
"And his?" she asked, tilting her head toward Kel.
Kel breathed in the cold air.
"To walk," he said.
Through falling snow, his eyes remained fixed forward.
"Even when the road is unclear."
⭑ The Horizon
As they ascended the first incline, trees thinned. Snow deepened around their ankles. The mountains cut the sky into jagged shapes, like teeth of some ancient entity waiting.
Kel stopped briefly.
The others followed.
Ahead, beyond the shadow ridge, a narrow pass cut between granite walls. A path carved by nature and time.
Their way.
Reina adjusted her gloves. Landon drew his blade an inch from its sheath, checking movement. Sera closed her eyes briefly as if offering a wordless prayer to the ancestors buried in frost.
Kel looked up.
The moon, pale even in daylight, hung faintly in the retreating sky.
Moon remains, even when sun rises.
He breathed.
Then spoke.
"Let's go."
And they moved.
Together.
Their footprints marked the snow—but unlike before, they no longer filled alone. Snow fell gently, yes, but their pace was steady.
Kel walked at the front.
Reina at his left.
Landon behind him.
Sera at the right.
A formation formed without speaking.
Not protection.
Not strategy.
A statement.
We walk.
⭑ Final Lines
As they reached the threshold of the pass, wind rushed sharply through the gap, whispering like the voice of the lake itself.
Kel closed his eyes for a moment and thought:
Let tomorrow come.
And with the next breath—
He stepped into the mountain's shadow.