(Scene addition between "Fragments of Frost" and "Spirit of Freedom")
The deeper they went, the colder the air became. The faint breath that once hung as mist now froze into shards, falling like glass around them.
Even Kratos felt it — the cold that bit through leather and flesh, chilling the blood beneath his skin. But Mithra… she faltered. Each step grew heavier, her trembling hands clutching her chest.
Kratos turned sharply, concern flashing beneath his stern composure.
Kratos: "Are you well?"
Mithra (weakly nodding): "I… can keep going…"
Her lips were pale. Her voice was brittle as the ice around them.
Without a word, Kratos unclasped the fur cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her small frame.
She blinked in surprise.
Kratos: "Worry not. Until we are out of this frozen hell… you are in good hands."
The words were simple, but his tone — quiet and firm — carried the weight of a vow.
They pressed on. The cave widened into a grand chamber, its ceiling lost in swirling frost. Then a low hum rippled through the air. The ice walls quivered, whispering in a tongue that scraped at the edge of thought.
Eon's voice — faint but suffocating.
Unseen. Everywhere.
And with each whisper, the ceiling above began to shift.
Massive icicles coiled downward like the teeth of some buried beast.
Kratos: "Move!"
He pulled Mithra close and ran, boots cracking over the frozen floor. The tremor deepened. Shards rained from above. But when he glanced down — she was stumbling.
The girl's breath came in shallow gasps. Her knees buckled. She collapsed.
Kratos (shouting): "Mithra!"
He caught her before she struck the ground, cradling her against his chest. Her light was fading fast. The color drained from her skin — she was freezing from within.
The blue-eyed ice figure darted forward, pointing toward a faint glow across the chamber: the exit.
Kratos gave a single nod and sprinted.
Spikes crashed around them, slamming into the ground like falling spears. A wall of ice split the path — separating Kratos and the figure. Then another struck before him, sealing the way forward. He was trapped.
He looked down at Mithra — limp in his arms.
His jaw tightened.
He could feel her warmth fading.
Kratos (growling, voice deep as thunder):
"You will not take her… not while she is in my care!"
With one arm clutching her close, he drew back his other fist and drove it into the ice. The impact cracked the chamber itself. With a roar, he lifted and hurled the massive spike aside, shattering it against the wall and tearing open a path.
the figure burst through the ice behind him, helping him push forward until they broke into open air — the stormy winds of the next corridor whipping around them.
Kratos dropped to one knee, holding Mithra close. His skin was pale blue, frostbitten. Her breath was nearly gone.
the figure looked at her, panicked, then turned to Kratos — her glowing eyes pleading: (Do something.)
He drew the Blades of Chaos, the only warmth left in this realm. Fire flared to life, orange and violent. He lowered them toward Mithra's body — but the heat was too fierce. Her skin seared, and he pulled back instantly.
Kratos (gritting his teeth): "Too strong… damn it."
The figure stepped forward, trembling, and pressed her hand against his. Slowly, she guided the flame back, her aura softening its blaze. Together, they controlled it — fire without fury, warmth without pain.
Mithra's chest rose again. She stirred.
When her eyes opened, Kratos exhaled quietly and sheathed the blades. His forearm was still blue from the cold, but the tension in his shoulders eased.
Mithra (confused, voice faint): "What… happened?"
Kratos: "You are safe. That is what matters."
She blinked, realizing. "You… saved me."
He said nothing, only looked away, letting her draw her own answer from his silence.
Then she noticed the figure — its body dripping, melting where she stood.
Mithra (shocked): "No… what's happening to you?"
the figure smiled weakly, hands shaking. She reached toward Mithra, but her arm began to dissolve into frost mist.
Kratos grunted, stepping forward. "Hold."
He lifted the Leviathan Axe and planted it into the ice beside them. Runes flared cold blue, sending a pulse of energy through the floor. Frost swept outward — stabilizing the figure's form. Slowly, her body reformed, glimmering and whole again.