The carriage wheels groaned to a stop, their echo swallowed by the endless white.
A cold wind swept across the frozen landscape, howling like a spirit long forgotten. It sang through the cliffs and valleys—an eerie lullaby for a land untouched by time. I stepped down first, boots sinking into the snow. The frost stung my skin, brushing against my cheeks like a breath of warning.
Behind me, the door creaked open.
Layla peeked outside, and the playfulness that usually danced in her amber eyes vanished.
Her smile faded as her gaze locked on the endless expanse of white.
Scarlett stood just behind me, arms wrapped around herself, her breath visible in the biting air.
"…It's freezing," she muttered, rubbing her gloved hands together.
I raised my palm.
"Heat Wave."
A pulse of warmth radiated out from me, melting a ring of frost around our feet. Instantly, the air became tolerable. Layla sighed in relief and stepped closer, clinging to my side without hesitation. Scarlett followed, subtly inching nearer to the warmth without a word.
"Mmm… it feels nice around you," Layla murmured, burying her face in my shoulder. "Like hugging a walking fireplace."
We stood at the edge of a frozen realm.
Before us loomed a towering glacier—an ancient colossus of ice that stretched skyward like a forgotten shrine carved by nature's cold hand. The light refracted off its surface, scattering rainbows through the air. Every gust of wind whistled through narrow ridges and hollows, like voices whispering from another age.
The silence was heavier here. Like the land itself was holding its breath.
And then—she stepped out.
Lyra.
Draped in a thick fur cloak, her black hair flowed freely behind her, strands catching the breeze like dark silk. Her face was pale, more from memory than the cold, and her void-sharp eyes gazed ahead—not at the glacier, but beyond it. Into something only she could see.
Her lips parted slightly, and she whispered, "I remember…"
It was soft, barely more than a breath—but we heard it.
"This path… the fox used to follow it. My mother and I… we'd chase it for hours, laughing until we couldn't breathe."
She took a single, tentative step forward.
The snow didn't fight her.
It recognized her.
Each crunch beneath her boots was louder than it should've been—like a heartbeat echoing through a long-forgotten chamber.
We followed her in silence.
She didn't look back. She didn't speak again. She just moved, step by step, through the snow. The glacier loomed taller the closer we came, and soon, the path narrowed. Lyra stopped before a jagged wall of frost and raised her hand.
A pendant hung from her fingers. Blue. Faintly glowing.
The color of her magic.
She stared at it. Her hand trembled. "It's still not broken," she said, her voice barely holding itself together. "Does that mean… she's still alive?"
She looked at me then—eyes filled with hope and fear both. Like a child standing at the edge of a dream.
I met her gaze, offering a small smile. "You've trusted her all these years, haven't you? Why stop now?"
She blinked fast—once, twice—then looked back at the pendant.
"If she cast a high-level freezing spell on herself… Absolute Zero," she murmured. "To slow time… preserve herself… she could've survived even that wound."
"You really think so?" Scarlett asked quietly.
"It's possible," I replied. "A spell that powerful could freeze the body, slow the decay, preserve life. Especially if it was cast with her final will—not to kill, but to protect."
"As a spell never harms its caster," Lyra added, more to herself than to us. "And she… she wasn't called the Ice Witch for nothing."
Her fingers closed around the pendant, and something changed.
The glacier responded.
Cracks of blue light formed in the wall before us, faint and pulsing. They didn't shatter or explode. They guided. Revealed.
Behind a curtain of icicles—long, crystal-like blades—a narrow passage appeared. One that didn't exist a moment before.
"If you use your domain, you might be able to sense her," I offered gently.
Lyra's eyes flickered. That spark returned to them—the spark of someone who had found a reason to fight.
She stepped forward and knelt in the snow, placing the pendant before her. Her fingers brushed the surface of the ice. She closed her eyes.
"Noah, she—" Scarlett began.
"Let her be," I said softly. "This is her moment."
We stood still, watching Lyra in silence.
Magic pulsed faintly around her. Cold, yet not cruel. Controlled. Calm. Like a memory frozen in time. The wind stilled. Even Layla didn't speak. Her gaze softened, and she leaned her head against my shoulder.
"You know…" she said quietly, "I could use my domain too. I can find someone in the ice."
"I know," I replied. "I could, too. But right now, Lyra's the one who needs to. She's desperate—and that desperation might be the only thing powerful enough to find the truth."
Lyra sat perfectly still now, her breath slow and steady. The glacier no longer loomed like a wall. It felt… like it was listening. Like it had been waiting for her.
"Nothing will stop her ," I said.
Scarlett looked at me. "You believe she'll find her?"
"I don't know," I said truthfully. "But she has to try. And sometimes… that's enough."
We remained in silence, watching Lyra sink deeper into her concentration. The snow fell gently around her, not with fury, but like a blessing.
Somewhere within the ancient ice, a mother waited.
And a daughter refused to let her be forgotten.
To be continued…