Ryn lifted his sleeve and wiped the moisture from his face, blinking once as the last of the cold sting faded from his eyes.
His other hand ran automatically along Snow's sheath, thumb pressing against the strap, confirming the clasp hadn't loosened. He adjusted the fit at his shoulder, rolled his neck once, then continued down.
Behind him, Jay hesitated before following.
"…You sure you're good?" Jay asked quietly.
Ryn didn't look back. "Yeah."
That was all.
Jay opened his mouth, like he might say more, then thought better of it.
The passage narrowed as they descended. The walls were no longer ancient stone, but something preserved through supernatural means.
Frost clung to the surface in thin, branching patterns, creeping outward from faintly glowing veins beneath the rock.
The cold wasn't sharp.
It was heavy.
Each breath came back slower than the last, fog lingering in the air instead of dissipating.
