Frost & Shadow

Chapter Seven

My legs didn’t stop shaking until I saw the archway again, frost riming the stones like silver lace, silent and still as though none of it had ever happened. I stumbled forward, my bow slipping from my fingers, clattering to the frozen ground. Cold air hit my chest like a punch, stealing the warmth that had only just returned to me.

The heat was gone. The birdsong was gone. Only the endless, biting silence of snow and wind remained. For a long, wild moment, I wondered if I had lost my mind—if I had dreamed him, the eyes, the voice, the promise of something impossible.

I pressed my palm to the icy stone, and my fingers tingled at the faint heat that lingered there, like a memory trapped in the rock. It burned slightly, a whisper of warmth against the frost.

By the time I reached the mountain path, my toes were numb, my chest still tight, my lungs sucking in the cold air in sharp, shallow gasps. My heart raced like a trapped bird in my ribcage. But I pushed on, following the trail of my own tracks left earlier that morning—the steps of hope, the first fragile proof that the merchant’s story might be true.

……

Cole waited by the cottage door, pale in the lantern glow as the sun dipped low, brushing the frozen fields with molten orange. Panic etched into every line of his face.

“Where the hell have you been?” His voice cracked, sharp and urgent. “Laine, you’re freezing—”

I stumbled inside, boots sloshing melted frost across the floorboards. The fire had died low, smoke curling in thin, ghostly threads toward the ceiling. Mother straightened from the hearth, eyes wide, yet not with relief. Father sat stiffly, arms crossed, the hard line of his jaw almost cutting the dim light. Cole lingered near the door, shifting like he didn’t know whether to yell or to grab me.

“Where have you been?” Mother asked again, voice trembling like a leaf in wind.

“I—I found something.” My throat felt raw, voice breaking as I tried to speak fast, before doubt could strangle my words. “There’s another world. Past the stones. Warm. Green. Alive. I saw it. I swear I did.”

God's above I sound batty, just like the merchants mother.

Father’s jaw tightened. Mother froze entirely, as if even blinking might shatter her composure.

“I met a Fae,” I pressed on, chest heaving, sweat prickling beneath my coat despite the chill. “He said the frost, the dying fields… it’s because of a pact. A pact our people broke centuries ago. He said—”

“Stop.” Her word cut sharper than any winter wind. I gripped the mantle for balance, knuckles whitening. “Don’t speak of such things in this house. Y-you sound crazy, listen to yourself Laine!"

My eyes flicker over her face in a millisecond, the way her brow is furrowed just slightly, her eyes wide with caution, but no surprise. There's no surprise there, which means....

My stomach twisted, bile rising. “You knew.”

Mother flinched, gaze darting to the floor. “I knew the stories. That’s all. Stories told by merchants and fools with loose tongues. Nothing more.”

“That’s not true!” My voice cracked, higher than I intended. “You wouldn’t answer me when I asked after the merchant told me. You turned away like it was poison. Why? What are you hiding?”

“Because Fae are liars, Laine!” Her voice broke. The spoon in her hand rattled against the pot, tears glistening on her lashes. “They twist truth into snares, and humans vanish chasing them. My own sister—” She shook her head violently. “I will not lose you too.”

Silence fell, thick and heavy, pressing against the walls like frost.

Father finally snorted, voice sharp. “Madness. You shame yourself chasing after fairy tales when there’s work to be done. No pact. No magic. No rescue is coming. We survive on our own—or we die.”

My chest burned. “On what, exactly? Scraps and bone broth? You call this survival? We’re starving, and you sit here sneering at the only chance we might have.”

“Laine.” Mother’s voice had shrunk, small and brittle. “Please. Don’t go back. Promise me.”

Cole stepped forward at last, quiet but steady. “Maybe we should hear her out.”

Father’s glare snapped to him, but Cole didn’t flinch.

I drew a ragged breath. “I’m not saying I trust him. I don’t. But if there’s even a chance… if I can bring back food, even once, how can I not try?”

Mother’s hands covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. Father’s eyes were hard as stone. Cole just watched, something unreadable in his gaze.

I knew, then, that whether I went or not, I would be alone in the choice.

The house fell into quiet. Argument spent, but tension lingering like the chill that never left our floors. Mother sat by the hearth, staring into dying embers. Father retreated to his own stubborn silence. Cole lingered in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck, watching me, silently weighing my sanity.

“You really saw it, didn’t you?” His voice was low, cautious.

I nodded, shivering at the memory of warmth, sunlight, and Fen’s gaze. “I did. And… I don’t know what it means yet. But if I can help even a little…” My voice faltered. “We’re dying, Cole. I have to try.”

He stepped closer, hand resting on my shoulder. “I don’t… understand all this Fae stuff, Laine. I barely believed the stories. But I do know this”—he gripped my shoulder a little tighter—“I trust you. You won’t do something reckless. I… I just hope you know what you’re getting into.”

I swallowed, the weight of his words grounding me. “I’ll be careful. I promise. But I can’t do nothing. I have to see it through.”

He nodded slowly, eyes clouded. “Just… come back. Please. Don’t leave me behind entirely.”

I forced a small smile I didn’t feel. “I’ll come back, Cole. I promise. But right now… I have to go.”

The first pale fingers of sunlight crept over the horizon, spilling through frost-laced windows. I pulled my coat tight, slung my bow across my back, and slipped quietly into the biting wind. The cold bit my cheeks, but it wasn’t the same as before. Every step toward the mountain carried hope, danger, and a pulse of life I hadn’t felt in months. By the time I reached the winding path toward the archway, my heart pounded. There was no turning back.

……

The portal loomed ahead, frost-covered and humming faintly, almost as if it sensed me coming. I paused a few feet from the stones, fingertips brushing the icy surface.

Behind me: frostbitten trees, frozen fields, hollow silence. Ahead: warmth, sunlight, green life—and Fen.

I swallowed. The tug in my chest was both terrifying and irresistible. One step forward, and I would cross into Ninkoral again.

My hand pressed fully to the portal. The air vibrated, thrumming deep into my bones. The forest beyond waited, alive and unafraid. I inhaled, bracing myself, and stepped forward.

The world unraveled beneath me.

The ground twisted like liquid glass. My bones ached as they stretched and compressed, a tingling ache pulsing through every fiber. Air thickened, then thinned, tugging at my lungs as if the world itself held its breath. Colors flared behind my eyelids—gold, green, violet spinning in impossible patterns. I stumbled, senses scrambling to catch up: moss, wet earth, sunlight on skin, the trill of unseen birds.

Then, suddenly, solid ground. Hair damp against my forehead, clothes heavy with residual energy, I gasped, heart hammering.

The forest was alive. Leaves shimmered with dew like crystal, sunlight spilling in golden shafts. Birds called overhead. A soft breeze brushed my cheeks, carrying scents I couldn’t name: honey, rain, something older than anything in my frozen world.

For a heartbeat, I closed my eyes, letting warmth sink into my limbs. Whole. For the first time in months, I felt whole.

A shiver ran down my spine. Movement in the underbrush. Too precise, too deliberate for deer or bird. Instinctively, I spun, hand on my bow.

“Little one.” His voice was soft, yet carried across the clearing. My stomach twisted at the recognition. “I felt the shift when you arrived.”

Breath caught. Warmth, life, danger. Fen stepped into the dappled sunlight, black hair glinting, green-gold eyes piercing, impossibly tall, impossibly flawless.

“Welcome back.”

I glanced down at my hands, shaking. “The portal… I felt my whole body folding in on itself. I thought I might—”

“You almost did,” he interrupted, gentle, a hint of amusement. “Most don’t notice. But you… you feel everything too acutely. Didn’t you notice it the first time?”

“I did,” I admitted, stomach twisting. “I thought I dreamed it… but now… now I know it’s real. Wait—feel everything? What do you mean?”

“Magic,” he said, eyes flicking to the canopy above. “It’s alive. It speaks through air, soil, water. Humans have been away too long; your senses are raw. That’s why it overwhelms you. This is very real, little human.”

I tried to focus, thoughts drifting home: frost-bitten crops, hollow fields, Cole. “So… if I stay, if I help, it could really save them?”

Fen’s gaze sharpened, green fire flickering. “The pact is not simple. Not a spell you can cast once. But… with the right human, there is hope. Enough hope to bring warmth, life, and sustenance back.”

“Hope…” My voice trembled, pulse racing.

“Yes.” He stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “There are cities, places where magic pools stronger than streams of your world. The capital is one. Stone and sand older than your histories, beneath streets grow gardens that never know drought. You will see it.”

I blinked, trying to imagine it: stone alive with greenery, deserts pulsing with life. “And… you want me to go there?”

He inclined his head. “I want you to see. To understand. The city hides its secrets. You will need courage, little one.”

I drew a shaky breath. “Courage.” I tested the word, letting it settle into my chest. “I can do that.”

Fen gestured toward a narrow sunlit path. “Then come. The capital waits, unlike anything in your world.”