Volume IV The White King
ARC I THE LAND OF ETERNAL WINTER
Chapter 3 Frost Death Reapers
The snow stopped. That was what woke Gret. The blonde giant Northman opened his eyes immediately. Something felt wrong. The fire had died. The wind had vanished. Even the trees seemed frozen in place. Silence ruled the world. Absolute silence. Gret slowly reached for his greataxe. Around him the camp remained intact. Toivo slept beneath heavy furs. He looked younger while sleeping, almost cherubic with his messy blond hair. Kev lay curled beside the firepit in black cat form. Moon sat awake. As though he had never slept at all. The celestial god rested quietly upon a fallen log. Long black hair spilling over white robes. Tiny winged moon fairies made of light drifted around him like stars. His jet-black eyes stared into the darkness beyond the camp. Watching. Waiting. Gret immediately understood. Moon had sensed it too. Something was nearby. Something dangerous. Then a bell rang. Soft. Distant. Beautiful. The sound drifted through the frozen forest. One chime. Then another. Then silence.
Toivo's eyes opened instantly.
"What was that?"
Nobody answered. The bell rang again.Closer this time. The sound felt wrong. Neither threatening. nor hostile. Yet hearing it filled Toivo with unease. His blonde hair moved in the wind and his blue eyes was searching Like listening to a funeral song he somehow already knew. Moon slowly stood. The fairies brightened. Silver light illuminated the surrounding trees. Then the snow spirits appeared. Hundreds of them. White figures emerging silently from the darkness. Children. Women. Old men. All made of frost and snow. All staring toward the northern forest. Not at Moon. Not at the travelers. At something else. Something approaching. The spirits began retreating. Stepping backward. Vanishing among the trees. Fear lingered in their pale eyes. Toivo felt cold. Not from winter. From instinct. The bell rang again. Much closer. A figure emerged from the forest. Tall. Silent. Clad entirely in white. Then another appeared. And another. And another. Four figures stepped from the darkness. Toivo immediately understood why even the snow spirits feared them. The newcomers looked human. At first. But only at first. Each stood maybe six feet tall, nearly seven feet tall. Their armor appeared forged from silver ice and pale steel. Frost covered every surface. Ancient runes glowed faintly across breastplates and gauntlets. White cloaks drifted behind them despite the absence of wind. Their faces were beautiful. Terribly beautiful. Like statues carved from winter itself. Pale skin. White hair. Silver-blue eyes. Eyes completely devoid of warmth. Each carried a different weapon. A spear. A sword. A great bow. A massive halberd. They moved with perfect synchronization. Not a single wasted motion. Not a single sound. The bells hung from their waists. Small silver bells. The source of the haunting chimes. Toivo tightened his grip on Frostfang. Gret rose fully. Greataxe in hand. Kev transformed. Black smoke erupted beside the fire. Moments later a pale man with short red hair stood there. Crimson eyes narrowed. His expression unusually serious. Moon remained calm. The four strangers stopped several paces away. Then they knelt. Every one of them. Toivo blinked. Gret frowned. Kev looked confused. The Frost Reapers lowered their heads toward Moon. Not toward Gret. Not toward Toivo. Toward Moon. Respect. Not submission. Recognition. Moon stared quietly at them. One of the Reapers finally spoke. The woman carrying the spear. She was beautiful and her voice sounded like snow falling across frozen lakes.
"Lord Moon."
Silence followed. The title seemed ancient. Older than kingdoms. Older than memory. Moon's expression remained unreadable.
"It has been a long time."
The Reaper bowed her head lower.
"Far too long."
Toivo looked between them. His confusion grew. They knew him. Not as a legend. Not as a god. As someone familiar. The female Reaper slowly stood. The others followed. The giant carrying the halberd stepped forward. He was enormous. Even larger than Gret. White hair braided behind his back. Pale blue eyes. A face marked by countless scars. Yet his expression remained completely emotionless.
"We have orders."
Kev immediately smiled. A dangerous smile.
"Orders."
The red-haired steward cracked his neck.
"Those are usually unpleasant."
The Reaper ignored him.
His gaze never left Moon.
"The White King requests your presence."
Silence. Even the wind seemed to pause. The White King. For the first time his name entered the story directly. Not a legend. Not a rumor. A living ruler. Waiting somewhere in the frozen north. Moon's black eyes reflected moonlight. For several moments he said nothing. Then
"No."
The answer came calmly. Without hesitation. Without anger. Just certainty. The Reapers did not react. As though they had expected that answer. The female warrior nodded once.
"He believed you would refuse."
Moon almost smiled.
"Then he knows me well."
Something flickered across the Reaper's face. Sadness. Gone instantly. The bowman also of strikingly handsome Nordic features finally spoke. His voice sounded younger.
"He remembers."
Moon's expression changed. Only slightly. But Toivo noticed. So did Gret. So did Kev. The words mattered. The Reaper continued quietly.
"He remembers more every year."
Moon lowered his eyes. A strange silence followed. Heavy. Painful. Ancient. Toivo felt as though he stood between ghosts. People connected by centuries he could barely imagine.
Finally the spearwoman spoke again.
"Lord Moon."
Her silver eyes softened.
"He waits."
Moon looked toward the distant north. Beyond forests. Beyond mountains. Beyond frozen horizons. Toward the kingdom hidden beneath eternal winter. Sadness appeared clearly in his eyes. Not fear. nor anger. Regret. Then it vanished. Moon turned away. The conversation was over. The Reapers understood immediately. Without another word they stepped backward. The bells chimed softly. Snow began falling again. Heavy. Endless. The world turned white. And when the snowfall cleared they were gone. No footprints remained. No traces. Nothing. Only silence.
Toivo stared into the forest.
"What were they?"
Kev answered first. His voice unusually quiet.
"Bad news."
Gret nodded.
"Very bad news."
Moon looked north. Toward a kingdom of ice. Toward a king who still remembered him. The fairies surrounding him dimmed softly. And far away inside a castle frozen beneath eternal snowfall a pale ruler slowly opened a book centuries old. Upon its final page rested a single name. Moon. The White King's silver eyes lingered there. And for the first time in many years he smiled.
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