Fwoosh!
"Brr—freezing! The deeper we go, the worse this blizzard gets!"
What began as a light snowfall in Tiel had morphed into a howling tempest by the time we breached Ferderuchus' edge. Ice-laden winds stabbed through layers of wool, and every exhale hung as a ghostly plume. Our horses balked, nostrils flaring, their coats frosted white. Visibility? A cruel joke—ten pedes at best.
"We need shelter. Now," Fleda shouted over the gale, her voice fraying.
"And where?" Alruna snapped, gloved hands gripping her reins. "There's nothing but trees and—"
I dismounted, cutting her off.
"What're you doing, Sis?" Fleda asked, puzzled.
"Trust me." I stretched my arms wide, channeling mana through trembling fingers. "Cum hiems venit, ita est sapientia. Propagationem in mundo."
Then, merging Water Law with Anastasia's lessons: "Net nichego, chto mozhet skryt' ot moikh glaz."
Fwoosh!
Needles of pressurized water shot in all directions, each imbued with Ambient Sense. 350 pedes per droplet—a spiderweb of detection.
...
...!
There.
"Southeast! Thousand pedes—a cabin!"
"How?!" Fleda gaped.
"Trade secret." I grinned weakly, remounting. "Move!"
The old cabin materialized through the whiteout: a weathered shack nestled between ancient pines, their boughs shielding it from the storm's wrath. No smoke from the chimney. No footprints. Abandoned, perhaps. We tethered the horses under a skeletal oak and barged inside.
Creak....
The door groaned. Dust motes swam in slanted light from a grimy window. A large single bed, a cedar wardrobe, a hearth stocked with charcoal—all oddly pristine.
"Home sweet home," I croaked, collapsing onto the floor and cocooning myself in blankets.
"Rude!" Fleda scolded. "We should thank whoever owns this place!"
"No one's here," I mumbled into the wool.
"You've always lacked manners," she sighed, inspecting the hearth.
Unexpectedly, the inside of the cabin was quite warm. No matter how you looked at it, someone had lived here recently. The furniture was not dusty and everything was neatly arranged. But at the same time, there was no one here. Strange, considering that the weather outside had become colder than ever.
Fleda struck flint against steel, while Alruna rummaged through her pack. Minutes later, after countless attempts of sparks kissing tinder, flames licked the charcoal, casting amber shadows.
Ah, if only one of us had Fire Law. Life would be so much easier.
"Leofric gave me something," Fleda said, producing a cloth bundle. "Ginger and crushed herbs. Said it wards off chills."
"Tea? Perfect," I groaned, thawing my fingers near the fire. "Come on, this big sister of yours is still cold!"
"Alright, alright, be patient! I'm not going anywhere!"
Fleda took out the ingredients and gathered them in a small bowl. She sliced the ginger and measured the other ingredients with artisan precision.
Since we didn't bring the necessary wares, we borrowed what was available in the cabin. Luckily, there were four empty wooden cups and a black pot by the hearth.
"Sis! Fill these four cups with clean water!"
"Got it!"
Unlike our fire problem, the issue of drinking water was easily solved by me, an adept Water Law user.
I scooped snow through the cracked door, purifying it with a murmur: "Omne quod est sordidum, et purificati postea castra intrabitis in die una..."
The snow shimmered, impurities sloughing away. I filled the four cups for the herbal tea and also refilled our clay water bottles, which had nearly run dry.
"Here, Fleda."
"Okay. Thanks, sis."
After a few minutes, Fleda's ginger herbal tea was ready to drink. Boiling water hissed as she poured it, steam curling like phantom snakes. The aroma it gave off was rich and earthy, reminiscent of a forest.
Sluurp.
"Aah."
Four synchronized sighs. Heat bloomed in my chest, thawing frozen veins.
"Gods, that's good," I muttered, the ginger's fire melting the ice in my bones.
"Obviously, I'm the one who made it." Fleda smiled, cradling her mug.
Fleda's herbal tea quickly disappeared within minutes. Its soothing effect was perfect for the cold weather.
A few minuter after, fatigue hit like a warhammer. The hearth's crackle softened. Alruna's head dipped, while Fleda's eyelids fluttered.
"Gotta... feed Otto..." I slurred, the world tilting.
Thud.
My mug slipped, leftover tea pooling on the floorboards as darkness swallowed me.
Creak.
A draft. Distant. The door?
But sleep dragged me under, warm and weightless, while the storm screamed on.
***
"...Hnngh... blankets...?"
My eyelids fluttered open. The world swam into focus—crackling firelight, the scent of pine resin, and a featherbed beneath me.
Since when did I sleep on a mattress?
The warmth clung to my bones, nostalgic as a childhood memory—of being cradled after scraped knees, of whispers soothing tears.
A hot trail streaked my cheek.
Tears?
Pathetic. Yet the ache in my chest lingered.
"Ah, awake?"
A man sat by the hearth, his silhouette haloed by flames. Silver hair cascaded like moonlight, his robes flowing like liquid snow. His voice—soft as a lullaby—carried an aura like a mother speaking to her child, full of warmth and affection.
"Why the tears? Are you hurt?" He leaned closer, concern etching his ageless face.
"N-no... just... memories." I swiped at my cheeks, mortified.
"Ah, grief's shadow. I've seen it many times." He smiled, eyes crinkling. "Forgive my neglect—you're my first guests in decades. I'd hate for your visit to end in tragedy."
"Guests...? Are you the owner of this cabin?" I sat up, clutching the quilt.
"Haha, cabin, huh...? It's small, but it's always been like this."
"W-we apologize for intruding! The storm—" I bowed my head.
"It's alright," he chuckled. "Even dragons seek refuge in blizzards."
Dragons? My Word Law prickled—truth.
"...Thank you, sir. I will always remember your kindness."
Even though we had been impolite, he remained gracious and seemed happy to have us in his home. Looking at him closely, he wasn't an elf. Yet, he was incredibly handsome. His straight silver hair shone brilliantly. His skin was white—flawless even, and his smiling face radiated a gentle light.
He wore a very unusual clothing—seamlessly sewn from his shoulders to his ankles, with a blue belt-like sash around his waist. The oddest part was the sleeves of his outfit—they were four times wider than his arms.
"Your name, young one?"
"Adele Ercangaud. We're bound for Gaede."
"Gaede? Bold, traversing Ferderuchus."
"Well, the northern seas are ice-locked. No choice."
"True. I heard the northern sea is filled with ice chunks." He touched his chin. "Hmm. Yet you're... different from your siblings. A tale there, I sense."
"That's... a long story. Do you mind?"
"Not at all. I'm a good listener."
I hesitated, then spilled it—the orphaned childhood, the High Elf lineage, my life as an adventurer. His expression never wavered, though his eyes glinted like polished steel.
"Remarkable," he murmured when I finished. "To endure such trials... you've a warrior's spirit."
Heat flooded my cheeks.
Praise? From a stranger?
"...Um... may I know your name, sir?"
"Ah! Forgive my rudeness." He bowed, robes whispering. "I am Beiyang. A silver dragon dwelling far from mortal squabbles."
Dragon. The Word Law confirmed it again. No lie. My throat tightened.
"O-one of the Twelve Dragon Overseers of the Guild?!"
"The very same." He laughed, a sound like wind chimes. "But titles bore me. 'Beiyang' suffices."
"B-but..."
"Forget it. Here, we're merely souls sharing warmth."
Reluctantly, I shook his offered hand—his skin cool, his grip firm.
"Kak? Who're you talking to—?" Fleda's sleepy voice cut through. She froze, staring at Beiyang.
Explaining took ages. Fleda and Alruna gaped, their faces a mixture of emotions at the same time.
It seems that they still didn't completely trust Beiyang's story. However, they instantly changed their minds when we stepped out of the cabin.
Beiyang raised his hands to the heavens, fingers splayed like talons. The air crackled as he chanted—a deep, resonant incantation that made my bones hum.
Lightning erupted from his palms, spearing the sky with a deafening crack! The blizzard froze mid-whirl, snowflakes suspended like glass shards. Then—
BOOM.
A thunderclap split the clouds, scattering them into ash-gray smoke. The silence that followed was heavier than the storm. My ears rang; Fleda clutched her head, wincing.
"Still doubt me?" Beiyang smirked, his silver hair tousled by the dying wind.
"N-no, sir," Alruna stammered, wide-eyed.
We packed hastily, limbs trembling—not from cold, but awe. As I strapped supplies onto Otto, Beiyang approached, a cobalt pendant dangling from his fingers.
"Adele. A parting gift."
The gem glowed faintly, its light rippling like submerged ice.
"A lucky charm?" I eyed it warily. "This is too—"
"Just take it." He pressed it into my palm. "Ferderuchus devours the unprepared. Since you are a dear friend, a gem is nothing compared to your life."
"But what does it do?" Fleda peered over my shoulder, curiosity overriding her usual decorum.
"Just wear it. It will keep you safe."
"...Alright..."
As Beiyang insisted on giving me the pendant, I decided to accept it. Honestly, I felt uneasy taking something so valuable from him.
***
Long story short, we continued our journey after bidding farewell to Beiyang. Our encounter with him was so strange and hard to believe. Who would have thought there was a dragon as kind-hearted as him? Not to mention his immense power.
Beiyang's home was near the entrance to the Ferderuchus Forest, so we soon found ourselves surrounded by a sea of trees after walking a few minutes from his house.
There was nothing special at first, just the sight of snow-covered trees. Or so it seemed. The deeper we went into the forest, the larger the trees grew, until it swallowed us.
Ancient pines towered like rib bones of long-dead titans, their canopies blotting the sun. What little light seeped through stained the snow sickly green.
The horror was magnified by the ensuing darkness, especially with the strangely shaped trees around us. We also found various small insects that we had never seen before. The bitter cold outside seemed like a distant memory here.
At first, the path was wide enough for our horses, but gradually it became narrower and narrower, becoming a trail.
Shadows thickened as the sun's last dregs bled into twilight. Meanwhile the cold gnawed through our cloaks. Even the torches we'd hastily lit hissed weakly, their flames devoured by the forest's hunger.
"We can't camp here," Fleda muttered, clutching her torch tighter. "The ground's uneven, and... something's watching."
"No kidding," Alruna hissed, her glaive half-drawn. "Those noises—like claws on bark. Everywhere."
I tightened my grip on Otto's reins. "Keep moving. There's got to be—"
Hoo-hoo.
A mournful cry echoed above. We froze.
"Owl," Fleda breathed. "Just an owl."
"Just an owl?" A voice chuckled—crystalline, mocking. "How rude."
Above us, perched on a gnarled branch, sat a creature from a fable. Snow-white feathers gleamed like starlight, its golden beak curved in a smirk. A crown of frost adorned its head, and eyes like molten gold pinned us where we stood.
"Talking owl?!" Alruna yelped, stumbling back.
"Freud, at your service," it crooned, tilting its head. "Though 'owl' feels... reductive. Guardian has a nicer ring, don't you think?"
"Guardian of what?" I demanded, my Word Law prickling. Truth.
"Of fools like you, wandering into a tomb." Freud's wings flared. "Follow. Or become dinner for the shadows."
Fleda gripped my arm. "Sis, this is—"
"Our only option," I cut in. The pendant Beiyang gave me pulsed cold against my chest.
Freud led us off the vanishing path, into thickets where brambles clawed at our legs. The torches flickered, revealing glimpses of things slithering in the dark—scaled, many-legged, their eyes reflecting firelight like cursed coins.
"Don't extinguish the flames," Freud warned. "The hungry ones dislike light. Mostly."
"Mostly?!" Alruna squeaked.
"Optimism is key!" The owl swooped lower. "Ah, look—fireflies!"
Beneath us, the forest floor erupted in luminescent swirls. Thousands of insects glowed emerald, sapphire, ivory—a galaxy underfoot. Fleda gasped, her fear momentarily forgotten.
"They're... beautiful," she whispered.
"And venomous," Freud added cheerfully. "Step on one, and your leg melts. Delightful, no?"
Alruna yanked her boot back. "Why are we here?!"
"Shortcut," Freud trilled. "Unless you'd prefer the main road? The bears there are famished this season."
"We're fine," I snapped, though my pulse raced. Otto snorted, his hooves crushing glowing moss that hissed like acid.
An hour later, Freud banked sharply. "Here."
A cave yawned ahead, its mouth barred by a weathered wooden door—Guild insignia barely visible beneath rot. Beyond it, a proper road snaked into the gloom.
"An old expedition outpost," I breathed. "How...?"
"The Guild's folly," Freud said, landing on a stump. "They carved roads, built shelters... then fled when the trees began whispering."
Fleda traced the door's carvings. "Why help us?"
The owl's gaze slid to me. "Let's say... I owe a certain dragon a favor."
Beiyang. The pendant hummed in agreement.
"...It seems this was a rest stop for Guild scouts monitoring Ferderuchus," I said, brushing cobwebs from a rusted lantern.
Freud tilted his crowned head. "Safe now, though. The barrier I cast repels unwanted guests. That... tingle you felt earlier? Proof it works."
"So the creepy-crawlies outside can't get in?" Alruna grimaced, eyeing the door.
"Not unless you invite them!" Freud hooted before swooping into the night.
I sneezed as dust motes swirled in our torchlight. The cave's interior was larger than expected—three mildewed bedrooms, a crumbling kitchenette, and a common area littered with debris. "Cozy," I said, kicking a pebble.
"Cozy?" Fleda gagged, peeling a spiderweb off her sleeve. "It's a crypt."
"A crypt with beds!" I grinned, tossing her a broom. "Let's clean. Properly."
The cleaning activity didn't take too long. After we finished cleaning the dust in each bedroom, we went to the available creaking beds. As I drifted off, Fleda's voice floated.
"Sis? What if the owl's lying? What if the barrier fails?"
"Then we fight," I murmured.
"With brooms?"
"With whatever's left."
Silence. Then Alruna's dry chuckle: "Optimist."
Outside, the forest hissed. Inside, a smell of mildew and old ink.
And thankfully, sleep came easy.
***