After walking for an entire day, they finally broke through the edge of the forest just as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon. A sharp chill lingered in the air. Before them rose towering, snow-capped mountains, their peaks lost within a bed of thick, grey clouds. Jagged rocks jutted out from beneath the snow, streaks of white and ash-like black dancing across the range. As the sun fell, the clouds caught fire—orange and gold painted across the sky—casting a surreal glow over the frozen heights.
Everyone paused to catch their breath, faces red and weary. Then Aaron let out a loud groan.
"Seriously? Now this?!" he shouted, throwing his arms up. "How in the world are we supposed to cross that?!"
"Just past these mountains lies the kingdom of Vaelthorn," Alaric said, staring at the distant heights like they were nothing more than a minor obstacle.
Aaron spun toward him. "Okay, but in case you haven't noticed, we're not exactly mountain goats! Those things look impossible!"
"I say we burn our way through," Ignis added, flexing and raising one hand dramatically while gripping his bicep with the other.
"With what? Your bad cooking?" Merlock replied without even glancing at him.
"Ignis's flames won't work here. Even his fire can't melt pride, and that's basically what those mountains are made of," Alaric said.
"The sun's down," he added, voice suddenly sharper. "And a snowstorm's coming."
"We should find shelter. Good judgment, forgotten prince of Veldora," Merlock smirked.
A small cave yawned near the base of the nearest slope, like the mountains had left a bite mark in themselves.
"I'll go grab some wood from the forest," Merlock said. "You guys go ahead."
"Don't get lost, little brat!" Aaron called after him, grinning.
Merlock ignored him and vanished into the trees.
"Looks like someone just got ghosted by his own spirit!" Ignis said, laughing as he headed toward the cave with exaggerated strides.
Alaric was already there.
"I dare you to say that again!" Aaron shouted, chasing after Ignis and leaping into the cave.
A loud thud echoed as Ignis collided with Alaric, and both of them collapsed.
Aaron entered right after—and saw a shadowy figure lying down. Without thinking, he kicked it.
Two simultaneous groans answered him.
"Wait… Ignis, you can change your voice now?" Aaron asked.
"I'm the one down there, you idiots!" Alaric barked, pushing Ignis off him.
Aaron barely blinked before Alaric was up on his feet, fury practically radiating from his body. His crimson eyes glowed, almost illuminating the darkness.
"Oh no," Aaron muttered as Alaric stepped forward, a threatening presence rolling off him.
"I'll just go help Merlock now," Aaron said quickly, spinning on his heel.
"I'm already here," Merlock's voice chimed in.
Aaron turned, relieved to see Merlock walking casually into the cave with an armful of firewood.
And then—tap—a hand gripped Aaron's shoulder from behind.
He froze. Heavy breathing brushed against his neck.
"We're not done yet," Alaric growled behind him.
"What's going on here?" Merlock asked, genuinely confused.
"Did you seriously get scared by that?" Ignis added, laughing.
Aaron clenched his jaw, but then his eyes flickered—a bright, glowing violet. The cave dimmed as a thick, dark aura swirled around him, darker than the shadows around them. It crawled over the stone, an oozing mist of power, silent but furious.
"Oh?" Alaric said, impressed now. "So he does have backbone."
Aaron took a step forward, raising an eyebrow. "What now? You going to run?"
"I was testing you, anyway," Alaric muttered under his breath.
Ignis strolled over to Merlock and patted the wood. "I'll take that, thanks. Let the children play."
He dropped the bundle on the ground and arranged it quickly, stacking the sticks like a miniature hut. Then, casually, he blew a stream of fire from his mouth—and the wood caught instantly.
Alaric pulled out a transparent bag from inside his robe. "Fish," he said.
From the bag, several shiny fish glinted in the firelight. He jabbed them onto sticks and handed out three to each person.
They sat in a rough circle as the flames crackled, roasting fish while the fire danced against the stone walls.
Aaron glanced at Merlock. "Why aren't you eating?"
"I'm a spirit, you fool," Merlock deadpanned. "I don't eat. You ask every time."
"He's right. You really do," Ignis added.
Aaron scowled. "Maybe I just like asking."
"If we're done with the circus," Alaric said, poking the fire with a stick, "we should talk about what lies ahead."
"Oh great, here we go with the creepy campfire tales," Aaron said, clearly unenthused.
"This isn't just a tale. Some believe a witch roams these mountains—The Frost Witch. The one responsible for the kingdom's downfall. Some say she commands beasts of pure ice."
Aaron's expression twisted. "How reliable is your source?"
"My grandfather told me. And his grandfather told him. Same guy who was right about the Whispering Forest."
"So basically, grandpa gossip," Aaron replied.
"I can confirm witches like her do exist," Merlock said, eyes narrowing. "That, I've seen."
With that, he yawned—or made the spirit equivalent of one—and dissolved into mist, returning to Aaron's grimoire.
"Think I'll nap too," Alaric muttered, pulling his robe over himself and turning his back to the fire.
"I guess I'm out as well," Ignis said, resting against the wall.
Aaron looked up at the flickering light.
He didn't say anything.
But something in the wind felt colder than it should've been.