Chapter 32 #2
“Stay behind me!” Kaelith barked, voice cutting through the wind.
There was no time to argue. The storm of wraiths came in waves—gray specters gliding soundlessly over the snow, dozens, maybe more. Each one whispered as it passed, faint and high-pitched, a chorus of words that sounded almost like names.
My name.
Katria. Katria. Katria.
The sound crawled under my skin. I stumbled backward until I hit a tree. Frost bloomed instantly where my shoulder met the bark, crackling outward in delicate webs.
Kaelith lunged past me, sword arcing through one of the wraiths. The creature split in two, evaporating into mist that froze midair before crumbling to powder. But two more took its place, rising from the snow like breath made solid.
Kael’s laugh cut through the chaos, wild and bright. “They don’t like me much either, brother.”
“Stay focused!”
“Oh, I am.”
Kael spun, heat rolling off him in waves, his blade a streak of molten gold against the cold. Wherever he struck, frost turned to steam. The air filled with hissing sound and vapor. He was fast—too fast—his movements more dance than combat. He moved like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
Kaelith, by contrast, was methodical. Every swing of his sword was deliberate, efficient.
He didn’t waste motion. The frost obeyed him like it recognized its master, lancing upward in sheets that speared the wraiths mid-flight.
He looked carved from the storm itself, his expression pure control—but the light behind his eyes burned far hotter than before.
A wraith lunged toward me. I barely had time to scream. Kael was there before I could blink, catching it midair. His arm hooked around my waist as he drove his blade through the creature’s core. The impact sent a shockwave of warmth through me. For a second, I forgot to breathe.
“Easy, little flame,” he said softly. “You’re safe.”
“I wasn’t the one who screamed,” I lied.
He grinned. “Then who did?”
Behind him, Kaelith’s sword cut through another wraith with surgical precision. He didn’t look at us, but I saw the way his jaw hardened, the tension in his shoulders sharp enough to slice the air.
Kael’s hand lingered at my waist a moment longer than necessary. “I could get used to saving you.”
“She doesn’t need saving,” Kaelith said coldly. His blade pierced another wraith, frost hissing on impact. “Move.”
Kael arched a brow. “You sound jealous.”
Kaelith didn’t respond, but the frostlight pulsed violently along his sword before dimming again. The ground beneath us cracked, veins of light spidering outward. “I said move.”
We ran. Kael stayed close to me, still half-grinning, half-watchful. Kaelith flanked us from behind, his presence an anchor of cold control. The wraiths followed—less solid now but faster, their whispers sharper.
“They’re herding us again,” Kaelith said between breaths.
“Toward what?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. His gaze swept the forest ahead, narrowing at something unseen.
Kael slowed slightly, meeting my eyes. “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, it bleeds.”
His confidence was ridiculous. And intoxicating.
A sudden wind roared through the trees, snapping branches like twigs. Snow whirled into a blinding storm. I could barely see Kaelith ahead of me now—just the faint shimmer of frostlight around him. Kael’s hand brushed mine as he reached for balance. His grip was hot even through my gloves.
“Stay close,” he said. “You’ll get lost in this.”
“I’m not—”
The ground gave way beneath me. I fell with a cry, the snow vanishing into a hollow of darkness. Kael’s hand caught mine mid-fall.
“Got you!” he grunted, bracing himself. But the weight pulled him down too, and in the next instant, we were both tumbling through ice and shadow.
The world spun. I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from me. Kael landed beside me, rolling to his knees. Above us, a circle of pale light marked the hole we’d fallen through. Kaelith’s silhouette appeared there a moment later, his eyes wild with fury.
“Katria!”
“I’m fine!” I shouted up.
“Stay where you are,” Kaelith ordered.
Kael looked up, snow melting in his hair. “You always were better at giving orders than following them.”
Then the ice above us groaned. Cracks webbed outward, shards raining down in glittering fragments.
Kaelith cursed under his breath and jumped.
He landed hard, knees bending to absorb the impact. The frost beneath him rippled outward in shockwaves. He grabbed my arm, checking me for injury with quick, impersonal hands that lingered a moment too long. His gloves were gone, and his touch burned cold.
“You shouldn’t have—”
“Fallen? I noticed.” That was becoming his signature line. I wondered when he would realize I never did what I was supposed to.
His mouth tightened. “I told you to stay close.”
Kael dusted himself off, smirking. “Technically, she did.”
Kaelith shot him a look sharp enough to freeze fire. “You can stop talking now.”
Kael grinned wider. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, brother. You’re melting.”
The frostlight flared dangerously around Kaelith’s wrist. I stepped between them before he could speak. “Enough! Both of you!” I shouted.
For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of our breathing—the quiet crackle of settling ice. Then, from the shadows ahead, came the soft, hungry sound of frost shifting.
Dozens of pale eyes opened in the dark.
The eyes in the dark blinked—one pair, then another—until the cavern shimmered with their pale glow. The Frostwraiths had followed us through the break in the ice, their shapes coiling along the walls like living smoke.
Kael stepped in front of me, gold light spilling from his blade. “I count nine,” he murmured.
“Ten,” Kaelith corrected. “You missed the one in that crevice.”
Kael flashed a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I rely on you for the pessimism.”
The air between them snapped colder, heat and frost brushing together like opposing currents. I could feel their tension—part fury, part something else entirely.
“Kaelith,” I whispered, “we need to move—”
“Stay behind me,” both brothers said at once.They glared at each other, the absurdity almost enough to make me laugh.
A hiss cut through the dark. The wraiths surged.
Kael met them first, every strike bright and reckless, his laughter echoing off the wintry walls like sunlight in a place that had never known warmth.
Kaelith fought beside him in silence, every blow efficient, merciless.
Their movements formed a brutal rhythm—opposites that shouldn’t have worked but somehow did.
One wraith broke through their defense and lunged for me. I swung the dagger Kael had pressed into my hand earlier, more instinct than skill. The blade passed through the creature, scattering it like mist.
Kael glanced over his shoulder, grinning. “Nicely done, little flame.”
Kaelith cut another wraith down and shot him a look sharp enough to draw blood. “Stop flirting and focus.”
“I am focused,” Kael replied, parrying a strike. “Just not where you want.”
Kaelith’s jaw tightened. The frostlight around him pulsed dangerously, cracks spidering through the floor beneath his boots. “You always did mistake chaos for charm.”
“And you always did mistake silence for strength.”
“Better silence than stupidity.”
“Better stupidity than a heart made of ice.”
“Seriously?!” I shouted, but neither seemed to hear me.
The cavern trembled. A blast of wind ripped through, scattering snow and shadow alike. Kaelith’s blade caught the light, and for an instant the entire hollow glowed white—too bright, too pure. When the glare faded, every wraith was gone, nothing left but the echo of their screams.
Kael lowered his sword, chest rising and falling fast. “Well,” he panted, “that was romantic.”
Kaelith turned on him. “If you ever endanger her again—”
Kael wiped a smear of frost from his cheek. “Endanger? I just saved her.”
“I was already protecting her.”
“From what? Breathing too close?”
Their voices clashed again, heat against frost. I stepped forward, shoving a hand between them. “Stop it! You’re brothers!”
Kaelith’s breath came hard. “He forgets what that means.”
Kael smiled faintly, though his eyes had cooled. “Maybe I remember too well.”
Silence. Then Kael’s hand brushed my sleeve as he stepped past me. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, almost tender. “Come closer to the light before you turn to ice.”
Before I could move, Kaelith’s hand closed around my wrist. “She’s fine.”
His grip wasn’t cruel, but it burned cold. I met his gaze, saw the storm behind it—the same one that had touched me before the kiss. The same one that terrified him.
“Let go,” I whispered.
For a moment, he didn’t. Then his jaw flexed, and he released me, stepping back as if the touch had scalded.
Kael watched, amusement flickering again. “Watch out, Brother. You’re cracking.”
Kaelith’s answer was quiet, dangerous. “And you’re trespassing.”
“Then lead the way out,” Kael said. “Unless you’re too distracted.”
Kaelith didn’t rise to it this time. He turned sharply and started toward the tunnel ahead, the frostlight following in long, shivering threads. Fenrir padded at his side, tail low, eyes fixed on me as if warning me to keep up.
Kael lingered a moment longer, his warmth brushing my arm. “Don’t mind him,” he murmured. “He’ll thaw. Eventually.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant Kaelith’s temper or his heart.
When we finally followed, the brothers walked on opposite sides of the passage—two halves of Winter’s sky: one bright and burning, the other dark and frozen. And I walked between them, the air thick with words none of us dared say.
The tunnels spat us back into the open like the forest itself had exhaled us.Cold air knifed across my face, sharp and merciless after the close heat below.
The aurora had shifted again—no longer crimson but a ghostly white, streaked with threads of gold.
Snow fell in soundless flakes that glowed faintly before vanishing.
Kael was the first to speak. “Well,” he panted, wiping frost from his brow, “that was unpleasantly close.”
“Stay alert,” Kaelith said. His sword was still drawn, the blade humming with a low, restless light. “We’re not clear yet.”
Fenrir padded ahead, sniffing the air. The forest was quiet—too quiet. No wind, no branches creaking, no distant cry. Just silence.
“Kaelith?” I whispered. “Where are we?”
He turned slowly, eyes scanning the horizon. “This isn’t the Frostwood anymore.”
“But it’s the same trees—”
“No.” His gaze lifted toward the shifting sky. “Look.”
The aurora wasn’t moving normally—it was looping, repeating its patterns over and over. The same ribbon of light folded across the heavens three times in the span of a breath. My stomach twisted.
Kael drew his sword again, flame light spilling into the snow. “Brother,” he said softly, “what did you drag us into?”
Kaelith didn’t answer. Because this time, I think, he didn’t know.
The snow beneath my boots began to shimmer, gold veins threading through it like veins in marble. Every sound dulled. Kael’s voice faded to a whisper. Kaelith’s outline blurred. The world rippled.
And then—stillness.
The trees turned silver. The air thickened, muffled. Every falling flake hung frozen mid-air, suspended in light. My heartbeat echoed far too loud in the silence.
“Kaelith?”
No answer. Kael was gone. Fenrir, too. Only the faint impression of their outlines remained in the frozen air.
Something moved through the stillness—a figure woven from starlight and shadow, neither man nor mist. He walked as though the ground didn’t notice him. His eyes were every color and none. When he spoke, his voice rippled like the surface of water touched by wind.
“You have come far for one who was never meant to walk here.”
I swallowed hard. “Who are you?”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “You already know my name, though your tongue may not shape it. I am the Keeper of Dreams, and this …” He gestured around us. “… is my threshold.”
“The Dreamkeeper,” I breathed.
He inclined his head. “You wear the echo of something ancient, mortal one. The Dreamstone remembers you.”
“I don’t understand. It—it reacted to me, but I didn’t do anything—”
“You were chosen before you were born,” he said gently. “Its song found you in your mother’s womb, when the Veil was still whole.”
My breath caught. “So all of this—what’s happening to me—was planned?”
“Not planned. Foreseen.”
Behind him, the light shifted, and two figures appeared faintly through the haze—Kael and Kaelith, frozen mid-stride, their swords raised. The Dreamkeeper’s gaze turned toward Kaelith’s motionless form.
“The frost-heir’s heart stirs in ways his father never feared enough.”
He moved closer to Kaelith, his expression unreadable. “If he wishes to keep you, he must learn to let you go.”
“What does that mean?” I demanded.
The Dreamkeeper looked at me again, eyes glimmering like moonlit water. “The Dreamstone’s awakening will not stop at Winter. When its pulse reaches the Veil, every Court will feel it. And every heart that clings will break.”
A shiver coursed through me. “Can it be stopped?”
His form flickered. “Perhaps. But not by denial.” He raised one translucent hand, and the world seemed to tilt. “Wake.”
The silver light shattered. Sound rushed back—wind, Fenrir’s growl, Kael’s curse, Kaelith’s voice calling my name. I staggered, nearly falling. Kaelith caught me by the shoulders, his touch steady and cold.
“Katria! Look at me.”
I blinked hard, the forest swimming back into focus. The trees were normal again, dark and heavy with snow. The aurora was crimson once more.
Kael stared at me, eyes narrowed. “What just happened?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “There was someone here. The Dreamkeeper.”
Kaelith’s grip on my shoulders tightened slightly. “You saw him?”
I nodded. “He said something about the Dreamstone … and about you.”
Kaelith went still. “What about me?”
“He said …” My throat tightened. “If you wish to keep me, you must learn to let me go.”
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Kael gave a low whistle. “Well,” he said, sheathing his sword, “that sounds inconvenient.”
Kaelith shot him a look sharp enough to silence the snow itself. “We’re leaving.”
“Where?” Kael asked lightly. “You’re clearly in no state to lead.”
Kaelith turned away, his jaw tight. “Anywhere that Dream doesn’t reach.”
But even as he said it, I saw the truth in his eyes—he knew nowhere in the realm was safe anymore.
And somewhere deep in the forest, unseen, the Frostfather stirred.