Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Katria
The Frostwood was alive. Not in the way forests breathe or creak but in the way a body tenses before a scream.
Each tree was a pillar of glass-veined ice, their branches whispering with faint luminescence as we passed beneath.
The air glittered faintly with frost motes that danced like embers from some invisible fire.
It was both beautiful and wrong—like standing in the ribs of something ancient that hadn’t realized it was dead yet.
We’d been running for what felt like hours, though the sun never rose this far north. The aurora still rippled crimson across the clouds above, painting the snow in shades of blood and gold.
Fenrir loped ahead, silent save for the crunch of his paws. Kaelith moved behind me, sword drawn, breath steady despite the cold air billowing around us. Every so often, I’d glance back. His expression was unreadable—stone carved from storm.
I should’ve hated him for dragging me into this, for making me care in ways that weren’t safe.But I didn’t.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
“The Frostwood,” he said. “It marks the edge of Winter’s domain.”
“And beyond it?”
He hesitated. “The part no Court claims.”
Something howled in the distance. Not a wolf. Not even a beast that belonged to Rhaenor, the human realm. The sound rose and broke apart like wind through hollow bone. Fenrir froze mid-step, head snapping toward the sound.
“What was that?”
Kaelith’s jaw tensed. “Frostwraiths.”
I swallowed hard. “The ones that attacked before?”
He nodded once. “They follow what stirs the Veil. You.”
My pulse jumped. “Then shouldn’t we—”
“Yes.” His tone left no room for argument. “Keep moving.”
We pressed on, snow deepening with every step.
The cold grew thicker here—not colder, exactly, but heavier, the way deep water presses on lungs.
My breath came shorter. Kaelith noticed and slowed his pace, falling closer behind me.
His presence radiated faint warmth despite the frost gathering in his hair.
A crack split the silence behind us. Then another. Not echo. Footsteps.
Kaelith spun, blade flashing in a line of light. The trees beyond shimmered, their shadows shifting wrong. Something moved between them—gray, formless, fast.
“Down!” he barked.
I dropped. The wind above my head exploded in a shriek. Frost sliced the air where I’d been standing, leaving a scar of shimmering ice on the nearest trunk.
Fenrir lunged, snapping at the blur. His jaws closed on mist; the thing dissolved into vapor and reformed further off, eyes like shards of moonlight.
“Run!” Kaelith shouted again, this time grabbing my arm. The contact burned—heat through layers of cold. We ran.
Branches shattered as the wraiths followed, voices like frozen glass breaking in chorus.
The snow turned to light beneath their touch, each step leaving holes that smoked with frost. Kaelith’s sword left trails of silver flame as he swung, each strike slowing them but never stopping them.
I could feel their hunger, sharp and endless, like a pull on my bones.
“Why are they after me?” I gasped.
“They sense change,” he said, slicing another down. “And fear it.”
The forest opened suddenly into a glade. The air here shimmered with faint gold—the same shade that had glowed beneath my mirror. The Dreamstone’s magic. It pulsed faintly through the snow, answering me.
I stopped. “Kaelith—”
“Keep moving!”
“I can’t. Look.”
The snow beneath my boots glowed brighter, rings of light spreading outward. Kaelith’s expression shifted from fury to disbelief.
The Frostwraiths recoiled at the light, their forms unraveling into mist before vanishing entirely. Silence dropped hard, like a curtain falling.
The only sound left was our breathing.
“What did I just do?” I whispered.
Kaelith didn’t answer. He stepped forward slowly, eyes on the light fading beneath me. “You woke it again,” he said finally. “The Dreamstone. It’s calling to you.”
His voice wasn’t warm, but something inside it cracked. He sheathed his sword, though his hands trembled slightly. “We need to keep moving before Torrin’s men catch our trail.”
“And the wraiths?”
“They’ll return. They always do.”
We started moving again, slower this time. The crimson aurora had dimmed, but the light it left behind clung to the snow, turning the Frostwood’s shadows strange.
Kaelith walked ahead now, every sense sharpened. I could see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his hand hovered near his sword hilt. The air between us felt thinner, stretched by all the things we hadn’t said.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “They were waiting for us.”
“The wraiths?”
He shook his head. “Torrin’s men. The wraiths were drawn to their fear.”
I frowned. “Then why not strike when we left the Hold?”
“Because this wasn’t a hunt,” he said. “It was a herding.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “Herding us where?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze flicked upward to the glow shifting through the branches. “Somewhere I’d rather not go.”
The trees began to change ahead of us—no longer silver but black, their bark gleaming like obsidian glass. The air smelled faintly of iron and wildflowers. It was wrong. Winter shouldn’t smell like that.
“Kaelith,” I whispered. “What is this?”
He drew in a sharp breath. “Summer’s border.”
Before I could answer, a figure stepped from the shadows ahead—tall, golden-brown hair catching the faint light, eyes gleaming with mischief and something dangerously close to delight.
“Brother,” Kaelith said, voice like steel dragged through frost.
Kael smiled. “You look terrible.”
“I should have known you’d be here.”
“You should have.” His eyes slid to me, warmth sparking there. “And there’s the little mortal who’s turned my brother into a legend already.”
I opened my mouth, unsure whether to thank him or argue. “I didn’t—”
Kael’s grin widened. “Save it. I like you better when you don’t apologize.”
Kaelith stepped slightly between us, his tone razor-thin. “Why are you here?”
“Because, dear brother, you’re bleeding power across the border and rattling every Court from here to the Dreaming Sea.” Kael’s gaze flicked toward me again, softer this time. “And because she shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“She isn’t alone,” Kaelith said.
Kael’s grin didn’t fade. “Then why does she look so cold?”
I blinked at him, thrown by the warmth in his voice. It was disarming—like standing too close to a fire after weeks of frost.
“Come,” Kael said, extending a hand toward me. “Let’s get you both somewhere safe before the next storm finds us.”
Kaelith didn’t move. Neither did I.
The aurora shifted above, streaking the Frostwood in gold and red, as if the sky itself held its breath.
And somewhere in the dark behind us, the wraiths began to whisper again.
The Frostwood deepened around us, swallowing the aurora’s light until only stray ribbons of red shimmered through the trees. Each one clung to Kael’s hair as he walked ahead, his warmth a strange contrast to Kaelith’s cold presence behind me.
Kael moved easily through the snow, unbothered by the cold. “You know,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “most mortals don’t survive five minutes in Winter’s heart. And yet here you are, defying reason—and my brother.”
“I’m beginning to think those two are the same thing,” I murmured.
Kael laughed, the sound rich and bright, like sunlight cracking the frost. “She’s quick, Kaelith. I can see why you kept her.”
Kaelith’s voice cut through the air, low and sharp. “She’s not kept.”
“Oh?” Kael stopped, turning just enough for the aurora’s light to catch his grin. “Then what is she?”
Silence. The wind filled it. I looked at Kaelith, but his expression was unreadable again—every trace of heat sealed behind that calm mask.
“She’s under my protection,” he said finally.
“Right,” Kael drawled. “Protection. That’s what we’re calling it now.”
I felt Kaelith stiffen behind me, tension rolling off him in waves. “Enough.”
But Kael didn’t stop. “You could at least thank me for saving her from your assassins. A little gratitude between brothers wouldn’t freeze you.”
“I didn’t ask for your help.”
“You never do. That’s what makes it fun.”
I watched them trade words like blades, each strike faster, subtler. Kael’s grin held mischief, but there was something dangerous beneath it—something almost territorial.
Kael’s gaze drifted back to me. “Tell me, little flame, has he even explained what you are to him?”
My breath caught. “What I am?”
Kaelith moved before I could ask more, stepping between us. “Don’t.”
Kael tilted his head, the faintest spark of defiance in his eyes. “You can’t shield her forever.”
“Watch me.”
The space between them crackled—Kael’s warmth meeting Kaelith’s frost until the air hissed where they touched. Fenrir growled, uneasy.
“Enough,” I said quietly. “Both of you.”
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then Kael smiled, all charm again, as if the moment had never happened. “You’re right, of course. We have bigger problems.”
“Like what?” I asked.
He looked past me, toward the treeline. “Like the fact that we’re not alone.”
The trees shuddered. A chorus of whispers rose, thin and hungry. Frostwraiths—dozens this time, their eyes glowing faint blue. The sound of their movement was like knives dragged through glass.
Kaelith drew his sword, ice catching the aurora’s light. Kael’s smile vanished. “Try to keep up, brother.”
And then the forest exploded into motion.
The air cracked.
It wasn’t thunder—it was the sound of ice screaming.
Frost shattered from the trees as the first Frostwraith tore through the glade, a shape of jagged mist and teeth that glimmered like shards of mirror.
Kael moved first, his blade flashing gold instead of silver.
The light pulsed with the heat of Summer, a blaze that carved streaks through the dark.
The wraith hissed, recoiling, its form curling away from the warmth like smoke from flame.