"Some seals are made not to hold evil in, but to keep worse things from finding it."
—Inscription on the Gate of Veilstone
...
The wind howled like a mourning song as Ash stepped onto frostbitten soil for the first time.
The Frost Courts of Veyr loomed in the distance—spires of pale crystal jutting from the mountains like the bones of some ancient god. Snow clung to the cliffs in ragged sheets. Below, the narrow road twisted through gorges choked with pine and silence.
Ash pulled his cloak tighter, flames flickering faintly beneath the cloth. Even with the shard's warmth, the cold gnawed at his bones.
Lira trudged beside him, her breath fogging the air. "Remind me again why we couldn't find a warmer shard to chase?"
"You said Kael was dangerous," Ash muttered.
"I also said he might try to kill you."
Ash smirked. "Then we'll find out."
---
Three days into the mountains, they reached the outpost town of Gravefrost. The locals didn't speak much. They stared. At the fire curling from Ash's fingers. At the mirror tattoo on Lira's neck. At the southern coins Ash handed over for lodging.
But one face stood out: a girl watching them from the roof of the tavern.
She was dressed in frostweave leather, her face marked with the sigil of the White Eyes—a northern assassin clan once loyal to the Frost Courts. A silver dagger gleamed on her hip.
When Ash and Lira turned toward her, she was already gone.
"Friend of yours?" Ash asked.
Lira's expression darkened. "I think we're being hunted."
---
That night, Gravefrost burned.
Ash woke to screams and smoke—flames rising not from him, but from within the tavern walls. A sigil of black ice had been carved onto the ceiling, flaring with ghostfire.
Illusions shattered in the chaos. Men with white masks stormed in, blades drawn.
"Find the Crown-Bearer!" one of them shouted.
Ash didn't wait.
He hurled fire like a storm, the Path of Flame roaring through him. Lira struck from the shadows, her illusions weaving chaos among the masked attackers.
But they weren't ordinary assassins. These were Wyrmfrost, elite killers once bred by the Frost Courts to slay mages.
And their leader—Lady Nevalis, the Pale Widow—was said to have killed three Ascendants with her bare hands.
Ash barely caught the frost bolt she launched from the rooftop. It struck a chimney behind him, shattering it into dust.
Lira grabbed his arm. "We're not ready for her!"
"We can't run forever," Ash growled, eyes flaming.
"No," Lira said, grimacing. "But we can make her chase us."
---
They fled north, deeper into the ice-veined mountains—toward Veyrhold, the ancient capital.
The path led them through forgotten passes, buried ruins, and one cursed monastery where monks had once frozen themselves in eternal prayer.
And always, the frost whispered behind them.
They crossed swords with Nevalis's assassins again at Mirrorwatch Crag, where a relic of the Path of Mirrors lay in shattered silence.
There, Ash discovered something chilling: the Wyrmfrost were not after him alone. They were hunting Kael Draven too.
But Kael was not running.
He was waiting.
---
They found him atop the Thornspire, a fortress of black ice built into a broken glacier. Kael Draven stood on the battlements, cloaked in silver frost, his eyes like burning stars of winter.
His face had changed. Older, sharper. A scar split his brow. But it was him.
Ash stepped forward, heart hammering. "Kael."
Kael did not move. "I thought you were dead."
"I was," Ash replied. "The world thought I was."
Kael studied him. "And now?"
"I need your shard."
A long silence.
Then Kael chuckled. "Of course you do."
He turned, cloak flaring in the wind.
"But what makes you think I'll give it to you?"
---
Ash raised his sword, flame coiling.
Kael answered with a blade of pure frost.
The two collided beneath the shattered stars.
Ash's fire roared. Kael's frost sang.
Each blow shook the spire. Magic bled into the stones. Lira shouted from the edge, trying to hold off the assassins now scaling the cliff below.
Ash's fire should have melted Kael's ice. But it didn't.
Kael's shard—the Frostbound Sigil—wasn't just resisting.
It remembered him.
As they fought, their shards pulsed—calling to each other. And for a brief moment, Ash saw it: a glimpse of the past.
Kael kneeling at Queen Lysaria's side… handing her a shard… swearing loyalty.
He had once been one of them.
Ash hesitated.
Kael's blade nearly took his arm.
"You're not ready," Kael snapped, breathing heavily. "You don't even understand what you carry."
"Then teach me," Ash growled.
Another silence. Then Kael slowly lowered his blade.
"No," he said. "But I will show you."
He turned toward the storm brewing beyond the horizon.
"The Queen of Sorrow has begun her move. The shards aren't just waking—they're calling. And if we don't gather them first…"
Ash finished the thought. "She'll reforge the Crown."
Kael nodded. "And end the world."
---
Preview for Chapter 6:
As Ash, Lira, and Kael form a fragile alliance, the truth of Queen Lysaria's fall begins to unravel—and deep beneath the mountains, a sealed shard stirs, guarded by a creature that remembers the flame…