Volume IV The White King
ARC I THE LAND OF ETERNAL WINTER
Chapter 6 The Ice Road
Toivo has realized to appreciate the beauty of ice and snow. Winter possesses a beauty unlike any other season. When snow blankets the land, the world is transformed into a sea of pure white, covering forests, mountains, and fields in a layer of shimmering frost. The whiteness of winter reflects the light of the sun and moon, making even the darkest nights glow with a gentle radiance. It brings a sense of peace and stillness, as though the world has paused to admire its own reflection. These lands were permafrost. The road appeared at dawn. No one saw where it began. One moment the travelers moved through ancient forests of frost-covered pine. The next the trees opened. And before them stretched a road of ice. Toivo pulled his marble horse to a halt. The frozen path cut across the landscape like a river of crystal. Perfectly straight. Perfectly smooth. The ice gleamed beneath the pale northern sun. Silver-blue. Beautiful and unnatural. The road vanished into the distant horizon. Toward the far north. Toward the White King's domain.
For several moments nobody spoke. Even Gret looked impressed.
The giant Northman whistled softly.
"Now that's not natural."
"No."
Moon's voice drifted from within the palanquin. The silver curtains shifted gently.
"It isn't."
The Frost Death Reapers waited beside the road. Silent. Motionless. Like beautiful statues carved from winter. The female spear wielder stepped onto the frozen path first. The others followed. Not a word was spoken. Yet the message was clear.
This way.
Toivo looked toward Moon's palanquin.
"Do we trust them?"
Kev answered immediately.
"No."
The black cat stretched lazily atop the roof.
"Absolutely not."
Then he yawned.
"But we're following them anyway."
Gret laughed.
Moon said nothing.
Which meant yes.
The journey resumed. The Ice Road carried them north. The landscape slowly changed around them. The forests grew thinner. The mountains larger. Every mile felt older than the last. Ancient glaciers towered in the distance. Frozen cliffs rose toward the heavens. Entire valleys lay buried beneath snow that had never melted. Not once. Not in thousands of years. The world felt untouched. Forgotten. As though civilization had never existed here. Toivo rode beside Gret. The marble horses glided effortlessly across the ice.
The blond young warrior stared at the distant mountains.
"How much farther?"
The giant warrior shrugged.
"North is always farther."
"That's not an answer."
"It is in the north."
Toivo groaned.
Gret laughed loudly.
The sound echoed across the frozen wilderness. For the first time in days Moon smiled faintly inside the palanquin. Toivo immediately noticed. That only made Gret laugh harder. By midday they encountered the first sign of the White King's influence. A village. Or what remained of one. Small wooden houses stood beside the Ice Road. Their roofs buried beneath snow. Windows frozen shut. Everything preserved perfectly. Yet there were no people. No animals. Nothing. The village appeared abandoned. But not ruined. It looked as though the inhabitants had simply vanished.
Toivo frowned.
"This place is strange."
Moon looked toward the empty settlement.
His expression grew distant.
"The White King protects the roads."
That answer raised more questions than it solved.
"What happened here?"
Moon remained silent.
The Frost Reapers did not answer either. The female spear wielder simply lowered her gaze. The silence itself became the answer. Whatever happened nobody wished to discuss it. The journey continued. As evening approached, snow began falling again. The pale flakes drifted gently across the Ice Road. The snow spirits returned. Dozens of them. Then hundreds. White figures appeared among distant hills. Watching. Observing. Following. The strange spirits seemed fascinated by Moon. The fairies floating around the palanquin fascinated them even more. Several tiny moon fairies drifted toward the spirits. The snow spirits responded by gathering around them. Children staring at stars. Toivo watched quietly. The sight felt strangely peaceful. Then something changed. One of the snow spirits froze. Its silver eyes widened. The spirit turned northward. The others followed. Fear appeared on every pale face. They immediately vanished. Gone. Every single one. The fairies returned to Moon. The atmosphere grew colder. Much colder.
Kev stood up. His crimson eyes narrowed.
"What was that?"
No one answered. The Frost Reapers stopped walking. For the first time since meeting them they appeared uneasy. The giant halberd wielder slowly turned toward the horizon. His hand tightened around his weapon. The bowman reached for an arrow. Even the spearwoman frowned. Moon stepped from his palanquin. Long black hair flowed around him. The fairies gathered close. Silver light danced across the snow. Toivo immediately felt tension in the air. Something was wrong. Then they saw it. Far away. Standing atop a frozen ridge. A single figure. Too distant to identify clearly. Tall. Motionless. Watching. The wind howled suddenly. Snow erupted around the stranger. A white cloak billowed behind them. Then the figure vanished. Gone. As though they had never existed. The Frost Reapers relaxed slightly. The female warrior lowered her spear. But her expression remained troubled. Toivo looked toward Moon. The celestial god stared at the empty ridge. His black eyes shimmered silver briefly. Recognition. Not fear. Recognition. Then Moon quietly returned to his palanquin. The journey resumed. No explanation was given. None was needed. Everyone understood. Someone else was watching now. Someone powerful. Someone connected to the White King. That night the group camped beside a frozen lake larger than some kingdoms. The ice stretched endlessly beneath moonlight. Like a second sky. Moon sat alone near the shore. The small winged fairies drifted around him. Silver reflections danced across his pale face.
Toivo approached cautiously. For several moments neither spoke.Then
"You're worried."
Moon looked toward him. The celestial god seemed surprised by the observation.
"A little."
The answer came honestly. That alone shocked Toivo. Moon rarely admitted weakness. Or uncertainty. Toivo sat beside him. The frozen lake stretched endlessly before them.
"About the White King?"
Moon was silent. For a long time.Then
"No."
The answer surprised him. Moon lowered his eyes toward the ice. His voice became very quiet.
"I'm worried about what he remembers."
The words lingered in the cold air. Heavy. Painful. Ancient. Toivo didn't understand. Not fully. But he understood enough. Some memories were wounds. And some wounds never healed.
Far away beyond the mountains beyond glaciers older than kingdoms a castle of ice stood beneath eternal snowfall. Countless towers rose into the sky. Frozen banners drifted in the wind. Silver lights glowed behind crystal windows. Upon the highest balcony stood the White King. Tall. Pale. Handsome. His newly shortened silver-blond hair moved softly in the storm. From a distance he almost resembled Toivo. Almost. But colder. Lonelier. His silver-blue eyes gazed southward. Toward the Ice Road. Toward the approaching travelers. Toward Moon. A faint smile touched his lips. Not cruel. Not triumphant. Hopeful. The expression looked strangely tragic. Because after centuries of waiting the distance between them was finally closing. And neither knew whether reunion would bring healing. Or heartbreak.
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