Volume IV The White King
ARC I THE LAND OF ETERNAL WINTER
Chapter 4 The Silent Escort
Morning arrived beneath a sky of silver. Neither blue nor grey. Silver. The kind of sky that belonged only to the far north. The kind that made the world seem frozen inside a dream. Snow covered everything. Ancient forests. Frozen rivers. Endless hills. It is a breathtaking wonderland of snow and light. Every tree a masterpiece, its branches draped in sparkling white crystal The landscape stretched toward the horizon like a painting carved from ice. It possesses a quiet beauty unlike any other landscape on earth. Beneath its frozen surface lies ancient ground preserved for countless ages, while above it stretches a world sculpted by ice, snow, and time. The land gleams beneath a blanket of white so pure it seems untouched by mortal hands, reflecting sunlight like fields of scattered diamonds. Toivo sat beside the campfire finishing breakfast. A thick fur cloak hung around his shoulders. The cold no longer bothered him as much as before. Months of travel had hardened him. Years of northern blood helped too. As if he was built to adapt to this Yet even he could feel the unnatural chill lingering in Everfrost. This cold felt alive. Watching. Waiting. Beside him Gret Ironwolf sharpened his massive greataxe. The giant Northman seemed perfectly comfortable. As usual. Kev sat nearby in cat form. Curled beside the fire. Though the black cat's crimson eyes remained open. Watching everything. Always. Moon sat quietly upon a fallen tree. Long black hair flowed around him like liquid silk. Child form. White robes. Small moon winged fairies made of light drifted around him lazily. Toivo caught himself staring. Again. He quickly looked away. Again. Then immediately looked back. Again. The cycle had become a problem. A serious problem. One Gret noticed every single time. The blond giant warrior smirked behind his beard. Toivo pretended not to notice. The camp eventually packed up. The marble horses emerged from Moon's shadow. Silent. Beautiful. Their smooth white bodies resembled carved statues more than living creatures. The palanquin followed shortly after. Silver curtains swayed gently. Moon stepped inside. The fairies lifted it effortlessly using strands of glowing celestial silk. Then the bells returned. Soft. Distant. Silver chimes drifting through the forest. Toivo immediately recognized them. The Frost Death Reapers. The group turned toward the trees. Four white figures emerged silently from the snow-covered forest. Just as beautiful. Just as terrifying. Their frost-covered armor reflected pale sunlight. White cloaks drifted behind them. Silver eyes watched quietly. The giant halberd wielder stepped forward first. Then stopped. He did not speak. Neither did the others. Instead they began walking. North. Nothing more.
Toivo frowned.
"They're back."
Kev's tail flicked irritably.
"I can see that."
"What do they want?"
"They wanted something yesterday."
Kev yawned.
"They probably still want it today."
The Frost Reapers continued walking. Not approaching. Not threatening. Simply moving northward. Moon watched them calmly. Then closed the curtains of his palanquin. The signal was obvious. Continue. The journey resumed. The strange procession moved through the endless winter wilderness. Toivo. Gret. Kev. Moon. And always ahead the Frost Death Reapers. Not leading. Not exactly. Yet somehow guiding them. The frozen warriors never looked back. Never spoke. Never demanded anything. They simply moved. And somehow the safest paths always appeared before them. Frozen rivers solid enough to cross. Mountain trails free of avalanches. Ancient roads hidden beneath snow. The Reapers always knew where to go. By midday the group reached a frozen gorge. A massive crack in the earth. Hundreds of feet deep. Toivo stared downward. Darkness swallowed the bottom completely. A narrow bridge of ice crossed the gap.
The blond young warrior frowned.
"That looks unsafe."
The Reapers crossed first. Without hesitation. Without slowing. The bridge never cracked. Never shifted. Moon's palanquin pulled by small, winged fairies made of light, using strands of magical silk. floated across next. Then Gret. Then Toivo. The moment they reached the other side the bridge shattered. Ice exploded into the abyss. Toivo spun around. The crossing vanished entirely. Only empty space remained. His blue eyes widened his stomach dropped.
"That was our only path."
The handsome bow-wielding Reaper finally spoke. His voice sounded like falling snow.
"It was."
Then silence again. Toivo stared. The Reaper continued walking. As though speaking more than three words would somehow kill him. Kev burst out laughing. The black cat nearly fell from Gret's shoulder.
"I like him."
The journey continued. Hours later another problem appeared. A pack of winter wargs. Huge beasts emerged from the forest. White fur. Blue eyes. Bodies larger than horses. Their growls echoed across the snowfields. Toivo reached for Frostfang. Gret lifted his axe. The wargs prepared to attack. Then the Frost Reapers stopped. The female spear wielder turned slowly. Silver eyes met the alpha warg's gaze. No magic. No threats. No movement. The beast immediately lowered itself. Its ears flattened. The entire pack backed away. Then vanished into the forest.
Toivo blinked.
"What just happened?"
The spearwoman answered calmly.
"They know better."
The giant Northman barked a laugh. Even Gret looked impressed. As evening approached, the landscape changed again. The forests became older. The trees larger. Ancient. Massive roots twisted beneath snow-covered ground. Frozen ruins appeared among the hills. Broken statues. Collapsed temples. Forgotten monuments swallowed by winter. Everywhere Toivo looked, he saw signs of a civilization long vanished. The White King's influence lingered here. He could feel it. The snow spirits returned too. Dozens of pale figures appeared among distant trees. Watching. Observing. Never approaching. Yet unlike before they no longer watched Moon. Now they watched the Reapers. Almost reverently. As though they were guardians. Or saints.
Night eventually arrived. The group stopped beside a frozen lake. The water beneath the ice glowed faintly blue. Moon sat quietly near the shore. The fairies drifted around him. Silver reflections danced across his pale face. Toivo found himself watching again. Not intentionally. It simply happened. Moon always seemed beautiful. But beneath moonlight he became something impossible. Something no mortal should resemble. Gret eventually sat beside him. The giant warrior followed Toivo's gaze. Then sighed.
"You've got it bad."
Toivo nearly jumped into the lake.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You absolutely do."
"I don't."
"You stare at him more than the fairies do."
Toivo covered his face.
Gret laughed so hard the ice echoed.
Across the lake the Frost Death Reapers stood motionless. Watching the dark horizon. Standing guard. Like beautiful but haunting statues carved from winter itself. The female spear wielder quietly approached Moon. For several moments neither spoke. Then she bowed her head slightly. Not deeply. Not formally. Like greeting an old friend.
"Lord Moon."
Moon looked up. His black eyes changed colour and shimmered silver. The Reaper hesitated. For the first time uncertainty touched her expression. Then she finally asked:
"Will you truly not see him?"
The question hung in the cold air. Moon was silent for a very long time. The fairies dimmed slightly. Then
"No."
The answer came softly. Almost sadly. The Reaper lowered her eyes. She already knew. Yet disappointment lingered anyway. Moon looked toward the northern horizon. Toward the lands waiting ahead. Toward the kingdom hidden beneath eternal snow. The kingdom of the White King. And far away inside a castle of ice older than kingdoms a silver-haired ruler sat alone upon a frozen throne. A single book rested upon his lap. A page lay open. An ancient sketch. A young celestial with long black hair. Smiling. The White King's pale fingers traced the drawing gently. Outside, snowstorms swallowed the world. Inside, memory refused to die. And northward the silent escort continued.
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