The snow.
White. Cold. Unforgiving.
The mountains weren’t an inch closer, his eyelids heavy and the biting frost seemed to touch his skin, even through the layers of thick cloth. He felt his bare fingers lose all feeling, and he dreamed of a place where he could just lie down and sleep. Avras’ winter was mild compared to Ain’asel’s.
The landscape was pale under a night sky that was frightening in a strange, stark way; the huge moon shone above it, making it glitter with translucent light. Beautiful. Tempting. And dangerously peaceful. As if it wanted him to lie down in the snow and give up.
You don’t need the Fae to die. You don’t need beasts or sharp teeth. One sleep in this cold and you won’t wake.
Do not.
Strangely, the beauty of the surroundings bit at his heart with melancholy. The stars above him reminded him of himself; lost, alone and pursued by the night.
The temptation to just fall asleep grew stronger with every step. Just surrender. It’s magic. The mountains will never come close because they don’t want to. This whole land doesn’t care if you live or die. It will watch you trudge through the snow until your strength is gone.
But he had no intention of lying down. He always remembered why he was here. And the mountains can run, he will reach them, even if they travel on the face of the moon. Even if they wanted to toy with his mind and body, he would fight them.
But his will was one thing, nature another.
He felt his strength ebbing away, slowly, the cold drinking from him like from a cup. His steps became slower, harder to make. His breath caught in his throat.
You can’t lose here, his mind screamed, you are so close. You have managed to enter this realm. You can go through it too.
But… his muscles were already frozen in time, his mind drifting into the abyss of sleep. The wind choked his mouth.
Tiyan just… fell.
Two nights. It took two nights to bring him to his knees. Two nights of travelling that seemed like hundreds of nights of hard labour. Where his hopes were raised only to be pushed back into the chasm again and again.
Two nights of worry mixed with the pain of giving up and a fire that didn’t warm him… but gave him the courage to go on. It burned in him with a high flame… but it wasn’t warm enough to draw more effort from him. It was a flame that could burn around him, but could not melt his own ice that resided in his heart and veins.
And his eyes closed.
To let himself drift into nothingness. And the frozen landscape looked at him indifferently, letting the wind carry the snow over him, burying him under the thick white blanket.
*
Mina, no!
He saw her, pursued by the fairies, deep in the darkness, running through a corridor filled with wings and teeth.
And at the end of it… the shadowy form, glowing with hunger and power, the dark force that called Mina. That tempted her to trust it, to follow its footsteps and lose herself in the beauty of the night.
And Mina was afraid, frightened, and followed it until it was too late.
No! Mina, please! Mina!
NO!
He felt something warm touching his lips and the liquid, also warm, dripping down his throat. His eyes were even heavier than before and he couldn’t open them. He heard his own voice moaning, harsh and battered, silent and tired. And afraid of the dream vision he had just seen. He didn’t even know what he was saying, his words lost in the cough. But he lived. He lived, for Goddess’ sake. But… how? Where was he?
He realised that someone was giving him a hot drink and he allowed the liquid to fill his mouth. Something… Yes, alcohol and herbs. And something else that made him want to drink more, just to feel the taste again. He swallowed, knowing that he wouldn’t forget the taste for long. He was too tired to be afraid. And too cold inside not to drink anything warm that was offered to him.
His eyes slowly opened to take in the surroundings – no longer white. The moon disappeared, revealing a canopy of frozen leaves – green, like spring enchanted in winter. Spring in winter, his mind tried to grasp that. He had to lose his mind. The snow ate him alive as he hallucinated.
“Humans are so easily impressed,” he heard a soft voice. “He told me you would be young. Easy to impress.”
Tiyan’s eyelids fluttered, shaking from the rest of the heavy sleep.
The face leaning over him would be beauty incarnate – if not for dissonant elements that were more sinister. Cat-like yellow pupils in large round eyes, sharp teeth like those of a predator… and an open throat.
Tiyan’s eyes opened in shock.
The throat of the Fae above him was completely open, so he could see its sinews and veins beating to the rhythm of his pulse. He saw no blood, red or blue, as if that gaping hole had been there all along. His voice was normal, as if the gap caused him no problems.
His laughter was friendly and pleasant to the ears as he took the cup.
“Yes, easily impressed.”
Tiyan decided not to look like a fool at the trait that was apparently obvious to the Fae who fed him alcohol. His eyes wandered there in a sick fascination. But then he realised that his throat was not open. It was transparent. Hidden behind a thick, glass-like membrane that glittered slightly, almost invisibly.
“You could touch it with your fingers, if you feel like it. Do you want to?”
“No,” Tiyan said dully.
“As you wish. It would satisfy your curiosity, though. If you ever wanted to, it could be an interesting experience,” the Fae sipped from his cup. Tiyan could see the drink fill the tube closer to his spine and pass through it with a slow gulp. His veins glistened in the warm light emanating from the leaves above.
Tiyan looked at his fingers. And he saw bandages, clean and thick, wrapped around his hands. He tried to move them, but he could not feel them. What happened in the snow? How long had he slept in the cold, ready to die?
The Fae seemed amused as he spoke.
“One was beyond saving. I cut it. Otherwise you would die. The others… perhaps they will make it.”
Tiyan looked at his fingers again. Thick bandage. Cut fingers. Frost. Snow.
Death.
“It’s better that way,” he agreed, shocked to hear such words come out of his mouth. But frostbite was a danger everyone in the Vennklan Valley knew well, and it was no joke. It was a threat to all hunters as the weather turned harsher. And in Ain’asel, it was… remorseless. A winter that knew it’s power and revelled in it, hungrily forcing others to their knees, making them bow before its might.
He looked again at the canopy of crystalline leaves above him, glassy, green with the emerald of spring and early summer.
The Fae seemed to read his thoughts again, for he nodded to the leaves that enveloped him in a safe cocoon.
“My gift. Spring. My magic. That’s why my king chose me to lead you. This is our home.”
The King.
The King.
“You are a Fae,” Tiyan said more than asked, as if this question would make a deal between them.
“And you are human,” the fey grinned. “But I am not a Fae who would eat you, and that is a relief for you.”
Definitely, Tiyan thought bitterly.
“The Shadow. Is he your king?”
“Oh yes,” his host chuckled. “Now drink more. And sleep. In warmth. We don’t want to lose any more fingers, do we?”
Tiyan agreed, at least for now. But he cursed the Fae for not showing up sooner. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe his journey through the snow amused him. But he knew where he had to go and he would lead them there. To the palace of the Shadow, the king who wanted him.
Wanted him so badly.
Just as Tiyan wanted to sleep now. Peaceful, quiet and safe sleep, where he wouldn’t lose any more fingers or life.
Guarded by a Fae with a transparent, pulsing throat.
He would see it as a joke of fate… but he didn’t have the strength to think. He was safe. At least until he reached the palace. Until he saw if his sister was safe or if it was just a cruel game.
At least until he didn’t lose hope.