Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The crypt’s door groaned as I shoved it open, the ancient wood weighty beneath my hands. Frost clung to the iron bands, brittle and sharp. As the door creaked wide, a white wasteland stretched before me, a desolate sea of snow and silence.
I stepped out, boots crunching in the ice, and pulled my fur coat tighter around me. The landscape was a bleak stretch of white, interrupted only by the dark silhouettes of ancient pines lining the clearing. They loomed like sentinels, their branches sagging under the consequence of endless winter. Everything about this place felt burdensome, as though even the land itself had given up.
I scanned the horizon, squinting against the dull gray sky, thick with clouds promising more storms. Not that it mattered. The woods beyond were empty—no game, no movement, no sign of life. Just endless winter.
Even the soldiers posted at the crypt looked like shadows of themselves—gaunt, hollow-eyed, their movements sluggish as they paced the perimeter.
I forced myself to look back at the horizon, hoping, praying, for the provisions cart to appear. But all I saw was more white ice. Aeliana and I couldn’t last much longer like this. I shook my hands, trying to bring feeling back into my fingers, and stomped my feet, forcing blood to flow through numb limbs.
A sudden gust of wind sent frost swirling in front of me, but then I saw it—dark shapes, moving through the haze. My heart skipped. Five carts, cutting slowly through the drifts, horses pulling against the mass of their loads.
Relief hit me so hard I nearly stumbled. The carts drew closer, and I could make out the riders—hunched figures, worn down by the same winter that had nearly crushed us all.
But they were here.
And that meant we would eat tonight.
Without a second thought, I bolted forward, my boots sinking into the snow with every step. The drifts were deep, but the sight of the carts pushed me on. Behind me, the guards stirred, their usual rigid expressions cracking for just a moment.
As the first cart groaned to a halt, a few soldiers jumped down, their boots hitting the ground with heavy thuds. One of them, a wiry man with sunken cheeks, groaned loudly, stretching his stiff limbs. “Holy dead, this place is a hellhole,” he said, shaking flakes from his fur-lined hood. “How do you survive out here?”
The man next to him, still perched on the cart, spat on the ground, his expression twisted in disdain. “You don’t survive it,” he grunted. “You endure it. Count the days until you’re reassigned somewhere less cursed.”
He glanced at the crypt, his lip curling as if the sight of it made him sick. “Worst post in the kingdom. They dump the ones they don’t want here. No one lasts long.”
I frowned, pulling my coat tighter as I watched them unload. “You’re lucky you get to leave,” I muttered under my breath, knowing full well they couldn’t hear me. The soldiers of the crypt got to come and go in shifts, while we stayed here.
As another soldier hauled a hefty crate from the cart, he caught sight of me. His eyes glimmered for the briefest second, then slid away, as though I wasn’t worth acknowledging. Same as always. The guards had been like this for years—silent, distant, following orders that clearly went beyond just protecting the crypt. They never spoke to me or Aeliana. Never shared a glance, a word, nothing.
I couldn’t help myself. “You lot just going to keep pretending we don’t exist?” I called, half-joking, half-exasperated. The wiry soldier who’d complained about the cold paused, turning his head slightly, but said nothing.
“Right,” I snapped. “Figures.”
The soldiers unloading the carts moved with a kind of frantic energy, eager to be done. Even those who had been starving, weary and hollow-eyed helped out faster than I’d ever seen them move. They knew their assignment was almost up, and you could feel the impatience in the air.
I crouched behind a cart, hidden from view, ears straining to catch every word. The soldiers never shared much when Aeliana or I were around, and whatever they were unloading this time had them on edge.
“Where the hell were you lot?” one of the soldiers demanded as he grabbed a crate from the cart. “You were supposed to be here weeks ago.”
The driver, a hulking man with a beard frosted over, shot him a grim look. “We got hit,” he said, his voice rough and low.
“Hit?” another soldier echoed, straightening, eyes narrowing. “By who?”
The driver’s expression darkened. “The Dragon King.”
The guards fell silent, tension snapping through the air. Even I felt my stomach drop at the mention of the Dragon King—the tyrant who ruled Ashenveil, the southern kingdom that bordered our land of Icespire. His reign of fire and conquest had stretched further each year, pressing against the magical boundary that separated our frozen kingdom from his scorched lands.
“The Dragon King?” one of the soldiers asked. “What’s he doing attacking supply convoys?”
“He’s testing the boundary,” the driver growled, his fists tightening around the crate. “Ambushed us where it’s weak near the pass. We lost two men and a cart. We would have lost everything, but it was obvious he was just toying with us. This is all we could bring.”
Another guard, broad-shouldered and battle-worn, sneered. “He’s been after Icespire for years. He wants the whole continent, and now that Hamburg’s fallen, we’re next.”
Hamburg, once the strongest of the kingdoms, was reduced to ruins after the Dragon King’s relentless siege. It was now called the shadowlands, nothing but sand and death. The magical barrier that protected Icespire was our last defense, but even magic had its limits.
One of the younger soldiers spoke up. “I heard Emberfall’s King Ciaran is staying neutral, just watching from across the sea. Think he’ll step in?”
The driver let out a bitter laugh. “Ciaran? He’s too busy guarding his own damn ass. As long as Emberfall’s safe, he won’t lift a finger to help us. The peace treaty was two hundred years ago, but he acts like we’re still at war with one another.”
“Figures,” another soldier said, shaking his head. “We’re on our own. The Dragon King knows it, too. He’s getting bolder—pushing us to see how far we’ll bend before we break.”
They began unloading the carts with more urgency now, moving faster as the conversation sank in.
If the Dragon King was pushing the border, it wouldn’t be long before war came to Icespire. And those at the crypt were more vulnerable than ever, isolated and half-starved in this frozen tomb, with no one but the dead and a magical barrier between us and him.
One of the younger soldiers, his face pale beneath his hood, glanced around nervously. “Has the king sent reinforcements?” His question held a thread of hope, but it was fading fast.
The driver shook his head, grim-faced. “Haven’t heard of any. The queen’s been handling most of the kingdom’s affairs lately. The king’s…” He hesitated. “Well, you’ve seen the weather.”
The soldiers shifted uneasily. They didn’t need to say it aloud—everyone in Icespire knew the winter was getting worse. Colder than it had been in years. The storms came harder, the frost creeping deeper into the land. People whispered that it wasn’t just the natural course of winter but the king himself, his emotions spilling over.
“His cryomancy’s slipping,” one of the men said, his honesty barely above a whisper. “He can’t control it anymore.”
The others nodded, their breaths misting in the freezing air. The King of Icespire had always been a master of ice manipulation, but ever since the queen had taken over much of the ruling, rumors had spread that the king was… unraveling. His grief and anger, bottled up for years, now spilled out in the form of endless blizzards.
“We’ve never seen a winter like this,” one soldier said. “It’s not just the Dragon King we have to worry about—our own king’s losing control.”
One of the older soldiers spoke up, his words low and tense. “There’s been talk… whispers about how they reinforced the boundary last time. Noble sacrifices.”
A silence followed, the words hanging in the air like frost.
“Don’t start rumors,” another soldier snapped, casting a glance around as if someone might be listening. “They haven’t done that in a hundred years.”
“Not yet,” the older man muttered darkly. “But if the Dragon King pushes us harder, if the boundary starts to crack… who knows what they’ll do to keep it standing.”
The men fell into an uneasy silence, their faces drawn with the realization that they were truly alone out here. Isolated, freezing, and with no reinforcements coming. Just the cold, the dead, and the distant rumble of a war waiting to break.
My heart sank as I pressed back against the cart. If the Dragon King was really making moves, if the boundary failed, we’d be the first to fall. And no one would be coming to save us.
The soldiers continued to mutter among themselves, their grim expressions deepening as they absorbed the news. “I heard some of the new arrivals have noble blood,” one of the crypt soldiers whispered, casting a glance toward the fresh group of men unloading crates. “At least they sent some with powers this time.”
Another soldier nodded. “I saw one of ’em earlier— umbraforging , I think. He melted into the shadows and reappeared across the courtyard. Could’ve taken my head off without me even knowing.”
A third guard joined in, his voice low but laced with admiration. “And that tall one with the metal armor? Ferrokinesis . I watched him bend the cart’s iron wheels back into place without even lifting a finger.”
Despite the list of those skills, the soldiers’ faces were still etched with fear. “Doesn’t matter what they can do. Even noble blood won’t hold up if the boundary cracks. If the Dragon King pushes further… we’re done.”
One of the leaders, a veteran with burns on his hands, bellowed out orders, breaking the uneasy silence. “We’re watering the horses and loading up within five hours to complete shift change. Get your asses in gear.”
He turned to one of the Warden Lords, a noble-born commander tasked with leading the garrison at the crypt. His cloak was trimmed in silver to mark his rank, and he stood silently overseeing the shift change. Like all Warden Lords, his position was earned not just by bloodline, but by the powers that ran through his veins.
“Warden Lord, one of the soldiers will escort you to your quarters. The rest can follow. I’m sure you’re eager to see where you’ll be freezing your balls off for the next month.”
The Warden Lord grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze distant. The soldiers who had just arrived began moving quickly, some heading toward the makeshift stables while others grabbed their gear from the carts.
One of the soldiers, a burly man with a shaved head and a permanent scowl, noticed me lingering near a provisions cart. His eyes narrowed, and he strode over, boots crunching on the ground. “You,” he barked. “Move along. You know the rules.”
I tightened my grip on the sack of provisions. Food was scarce, and with the new carts just barely covering the basics, I wasn’t leaving empty-handed. “We’re starving out here,” I argued, my voice steady despite the knot of tension in my stomach. “I’m just taking what’s ours.”
He stepped closer, looming over me, a sneer curling his lips. Without a word, he yanked the sack from my hands. “Not today,” he growled. “Some of the supplies went missing. You’ll make do with less.”
My chest tightened. “What? That’s not fair!” The anger that had been simmering in me for weeks flared up. “We’ve been barely scraping by?—”
The soldier’s eyes flashed with irritation, cutting me off. “Fair? This is about survival. The soldiers guarding the Crypt of Silence need it more than you do. You and your princess aren’t on the front lines.”
The injustice of it hit me like a punch to the gut. I wasn’t just angry—I was tired. Tired of being powerless, of always being overlooked. These soldiers came and went, while Aeliana and I were stuck here, surviving day by day with nothing but the crypts and the dead.
“And what about us?” I snapped, my voice rising. “We’re the ones keeping the crypt running! Without us, this place falls apart. You lot just come and go!”
He took another step toward me, his towering frame casting a long shadow. Before I could react, he shoved me hard, his hand slamming against my shoulder. I stumbled but caught myself, the icy ground biting into my palms.
I was tired of being pushed around. Tired of the frozen air gnawing at me and the hunger in my stomach. Tired of feeling like I didn’t matter. And in that moment, something inside me snapped.
All the fear, the helplessness—it boiled over, flooding my veins with a heat that burned. Without thinking, I lashed out, kicking him hard in the shin.
He grunted in pain, his face twisting in fury. “You little—” He didn’t finish. His fist shot out, connecting with my face. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and I stumbled backward, my vision blurring.
I barely registered the blood trickling down my cheek before he was on me again. His hands grabbed my coat, yanking me forward and slamming me into the ground. The air left my lungs in a rush, my body collapsing beneath his weight.
His fist hovered in the air, ready to strike again—but then the temperature plummeted. The air itself seemed to freeze, turning heavy, oppressive. The ground beneath us crackled, and I watched in disbelief as frost spread with unnatural speed, racing from the trees, creeping over the ground, and latching onto the soldier’s boots.
He hesitated, his eyes wide with confusion, and that’s when I saw her.
Aeliana stepped into the clearing, her eyes no longer soft but glowing with an icy, deadly light. The air around her shimmered, the frost following her every step like obedient servants. The ice began to crawl up the soldier’s legs, rooting him to the ground.
“What the hell?” he muttered, his voice trembling as the frozen magic coiled higher, locking him in place.
Aeliana raised her hand, and her power responded, surging up his body with alarming speed. The very ground seemed to hum with power as the frost tightened its grip, encasing his arms, his chest, until he was completely immobilized.
The cold pressed down on all of us, making it hard to breathe. The soldiers nearby stood as though frozen, watching in horrified silence.
“Are you hurting my handmaiden?” Aeliana’s words cut through the freezing air like a blade, sharp and unyielding. Her gaze locked onto the soldier, and even the earth beneath him seemed to tremble.
“P-Princess,” the soldier stammered, his bravado crumbling under her gaze. “I didn’t mean?—”
Her lips curled into a dangerous smile. “And who are you to decide what supplies we need?” she asked. The frost tightened, cracking loudly as it pressed against his armor, creeping toward his throat.
He struggled against the ice. “I was just—doing my duty!” he managed to choke out.
Aeliana’s eyes darkened, and with a slow, deliberate motion, she curled her fingers into a fist. The power responded instantly, lifting him off the ground. He dangled there, suspended in mid-air, helpless as a rag doll.
“You dare speak to me of duty?” Aeliana’s voice was low, each word vibrating with power. “She was taking exactly what provisions we require. And you”—she clenched her fist tighter, and the ice around his throat constricted, forcing a strangled gasp from his lips—“will remember that I am still a princess of Icespire. I may be exiled, but royal magic runs through my veins. That gives me the right to decide what is necessary in my domain.”
The soldier’s eyes bulged, panic filling his face as the frost climbed higher. “Please… Princess… I didn’t mean?—”
I’d seen this side of Aeliana only a handful of times—a blazing, unrelenting force that left no room for doubt. It was as if the cold, measured grace she wore like armor melted away, revealing raw, unyielding steel beneath. She rarely fought for herself, content to endure quietly, but when it came to me? She became ferocious, unflinching, and resolute in a way that both humbled and infuriated me.
Her loyalty burned brighter than the sun over Emberfall, fierce and all-consuming, but it was a fire she never turned inward. She’d sacrifice anything—everything—for the people she cared about, while barely sparing a thought for her own survival.
And as much as I admired her for it, I hated it too. Hated that it was me she felt the need to protect, to defend so ruthlessly. Hated that the world had failed her so completely that she thought it was her job to shield me from it.
Aeliana stepped closer. “Didn’t mean to strike my handmaiden? Didn’t mean to deprive us of food? You forget your place.”
She loosened her grip just enough for him to breathe. His body sagged, held up only by the freeze that wrapped around him. He was completely at her mercy.
The power Aeliana radiated was terrifying. It pressed down on the clearing, chilling the air so deeply that frost began to crawl across the soldiers’ armor, their weapons, freezing everything in sight.
Aeliana turned back to me, her expression softening for a moment. She extended her hand, helping me to my feet, her touch warm in contrast to the frozen world around us. “You’re safe now, Elara,” she murmured.
The soldier dangled helplessly behind her, still trapped by the frost.
Aeliana’s gaze snapped back to him, the warmth gone in an instant. “Let me make this very clear,” she said. “If you ever touch her again or try to withhold what is rightfully ours, I will personally see to it that you remain entombed here for eternity.”
The soldier’s face drained of color, and he nodded frantically. “Yes, Princess… Please, I—I understand…”
Aeliana held him there for a moment longer. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she released him. The ice retracted so quickly that he dropped to the ground in a heap. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with terror, backing away as fast as his shaking legs would allow.
As he disappeared into the distance, Aeliana turned back to me. “Come, Elara,” she said gently. “Let’s get you inside and tend to that bruise.”
I nodded, still trembling, my heart pounding as the adrenaline faded, leaving only the sharp sting of the bruise on my face. The pain throbbed, but it wasn’t just the ache from the hit—it was the humiliation. I couldn’t shake the bitter taste of helplessness. Aeliana had saved me. Because I couldn’t do it myself. I scurried over to grab the bag of food, avoiding the strained gazes from the soldiers before following after her.
As we walked back toward the crypt, the heavy doors looming ahead, I glanced back at the soldier. He was still there, shaking, his eyes wide with terror. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at us. I should have felt triumphant, but all I felt was small.
Once inside, my legs finally gave out, and I slumped against the wall. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have needed you to step in. I should’ve… I should’ve handled it.”
Aeliana paused, her gaze steady. “Handled it? Elara, you’re not powerless. You survived.”
I shook my head, anger and shame twisting into a storm inside me. “But I’m not like you, Aeliana! You could bring an army to its knees with a single thought, while I…” My voice broke, and I hated how raw it sounded. “I can’t even stand up to one soldier without ending up in the snow.” I turned away, the ache in my chest threatening to swallow me whole. “I just wanted to be strong enough to protect us. To protect you. ” The last word tasted bitter, like failure on my tongue.
The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on me until I thought I’d suffocate under the weight of it. But then, soft and steady, I felt her presence beside me. She knelt down, her hand brushing my shoulder with a gentleness that made my throat tighten.
“Strength doesn’t always look the way we imagine it,” she murmured, her voice as calm as the stillness before a snowstorm. “It isn’t in the power to tear down armies or fight back with fire and steel.” She paused, her fingers tightening ever so slightly, grounding me in the moment. “It’s in getting up when you’ve been broken. In finding the courage to keep going, even when you feel like you can’t. And it’s in knowing when to lean on someone else.”
I turned to her, my vision blurred with unspoken grief, but her gaze held mine—steady, unwavering, and filled with something I couldn’t name. “You don’t have to protect me alone, Elara,” she said, her voice soft but fierce. “That’s how we survive. Not by being unbreakable, but by refusing to face this world alone. We’re stronger together. ”
Her words settled into the space between us, simple yet unyielding, like stones laid into the foundation of something unbreakable. The raw edges of me—the doubts, the hunger, the biting fear of not being enough—dulled just a little, smoothed by her certainty.
Aeliana always bore more than her share, shouldering the weight of the crypt and its endless dead without complaint, but in that moment, her gaze held me steady, as if to say, you’re not a burden; you’re a reason. She wasn’t asking me to be stronger or better or more. Just as I was—flawed, stubborn, and scraping by—I was enough.
And somehow, against all odds, that was enough to make me believe it, too.