The morning dawned with bitter cold. The warmth of the summer sun long gone. They hurried forward. Snow crunched under their soles. Heavily loaded with cameras and equipment, they set out to see the wrath of winter. When would they ever get to see a judgment from Rivjord? Probably never, and yet they hoped, perhaps if luck was on their side.
Underneath a thick jacket, Anderson stamped his feet, nervous with excitement. His body groaned from the long, sleepless journey. The rumors had to be true. It would be the first time in his 30 years to witness a miracle. No ghosts, no Riva creatures. No, images of darkened ice. The afterlife itself! And maybe even the lighthouse. Just a glimpse of holiness. He wanted to see it. The guiding light.
Barricades and other measures blocked the main road. Soldiers and men in black suits patrolled the area. They didn't look happy. Probably because the area was to be cordoned off. Did you want to stop people from seeing it? The realization made his nails tingle. Anderson just had to see it. He wouldn't let anything stop him! Not so close to his goal.
Unanimously, the group decided to leave the road. Soles slid over gravel and kicked up snow. Someone crashed into him with full force. Be careful! Damn, he almost fell. Luckily, his camera could take a beating.
Over hills and frozen earth. Snow in summer. Strange. It wouldn't bother anyone in the mountains, but this... Snow never fell in summer! And somewhere under these masses, a military base was supposed to be buried? He wanted to laugh at how absurd it sounded. However, no one joked about Rivjord.
It was blinding. The sudden light shimmered like a second sun on the horizon, kissing the earth. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe not. Anderson raised a hand to his face.
It was cold, colder than last winter. Frost gnawed uncomfortably at his skin. In hindsight, maybe he should have brought gloves. But how could he have known?!
The wind rushed through the black hair of a woman holding her hat. She barely reached his shoulder, yet she made her way through the obstacles as if nature spoke to her. Like everyone else, she wore thick clothing and gloves but no equipment. No camera. Normally, Anderson could tell at a glance which agency someone belonged to. But not with her...
She walked cheerfully, seemingly undisturbed in her Christmas red clothes, spinning on ice as if it were all a fun outing. One could be envious. Shrugging, Anderson decided not to think about it any further. Why should he judge her? Who wouldn't want to see such a rare mystery? Maybe she would enjoy it even more without a camera.
After that, the Alps were calling. What kind of photos could he take there? Mountain and clouds. He bit his lip with excitement.
They were getting closer. Shimmering layers of ice rose like waves into the sky. Thick and dark, yet it played the sounds of the sea. Its size was unrecognizable in the reflective light, and yet Anderson understood. He recognized it now. It was not a second sun but a gigantic sphere of blue ice that trapped land and storm inside, like a snow globe.
Swirling snow, meters high. He could hardly believe it. Floating wisps of fog and other events... were those trees made of smoke?
Only the sharp breathing crowd snapped him out of his trance. Startled, he looked around. When had he moved to the front? Wisps of frost. Dead trees swaying like polar lights... moonlight perhaps? Probably something magical. Lights captured as if from forgotten images.
He could almost hear the chains, the nets of frost swaying in the dead current, trapping corrupted souls. Ships sailing on the mystical sea. The true Rivjord must be an indescribable sight. Something that no human has ever taken a photo of. Better even than the dome of ice right in front of him. Surely unimaginable. What he wouldn't give for a trip. The images he could take. Well, one could dream.
"Isn't it beautiful?" the woman asked. Anderson nodded weakly. Her black hair matched the ice and the blue-white winter snow perfectly. Fascinated, he watched her graceful movements and her shimmering pupils. Oh, he quickly wiped the spit from his mouth. He hadn't even noticed it in all his daydreaming.
"Shouldn't everyone in the world be able to see this miracle?" Yes, everyone should! Their eyes met briefly. Smiling, she turned away from Anderson toward the sphere. She took a little snow in her hand. Yes, his photos could show it to the world. Fate must have led him here. And yet he saw only half of it. This entire thing… was only what had spilled over.
Not the lighthouse, the shore, the walls, the fishing nets, and the sailing rivers. Even in all its glory, the true wonders remained in Rivjord. How tragic...
The cold greedily seized his senses... His eyes couldn't look away. The darkness seemed to be alive, calling out. Soft whisper. Movement. What was that back there? He could almost see it. Just one step.
What would it feel like?
Closer, he had to get closer. Anderson ignored the warning cries of his conscience. He stared spellbound at the clear, beautiful ice. Suddenly, it didn't seem so dark anymore. Not so... dangerous. His fingers reached closer and closer. What was so bad about touching it once? Just to—
Someone grabbed his arm.
"Don't touch it! Especially if you don't know its nature," scolded the black-haired woman. Her fingers pressed against the fabric of his jacket. Ahh—for a brief moment, he thought he heard his bones crack. Where did that strength come from?
Her skin was astonishingly pale, and glistened as if ice crystals stuck to her cheek. Her white breath snowed in the air. She must have seen his eyes clearing, because shortly afterwards she patted him on the back. "Please be careful." Of course...
He secretly stared after her as she stumbled toward another person about to touch the ice. The woman looked modish and seemed to know more than anyone else here. Maybe a researcher or an outlaw? Well, he hadn't seen a symbol on her chest. But she knew her stuff.
Mmm, maybe he would meet her again later and could invite her to dinner... just to thank her, of course. What was so strange about that?
Anderson noticed how the ice was gnawing at his thoughts again. The soft whispering. He wanted to see the secrets. What if he could write an article about it? How many would read it? One step closer, and maybe he would understand more. Maybe he could even learn Riva!
He blinked and then slapped himself. Pull yourself together. Damn it. This place was not meant for humans. He shuddered at his thoughts. What would have happened if the woman hadn't stopped him? The strangeness. He didn't even notice such trickery.
'Fire! We should have brought fire with us!' Instinctively, Anderson distanced himself. Maybe he should have left right away. Again and again, he found himself moving closer to the ice. One more photo. What was another minute?
He shook his head and forced his attention elsewhere. Anderson watched the woman jumping around for quite a while. Her smile shimmered with the dancing sun. Her presence was reassuring and calming. How lucky they met someone like her. She must have pulled a dozen people out of madness by now. What stories she could tell, the adventures—he wanted to hear them all.
Maybe he could even shoot a photo of her. It would certainly look good against the blue ice. No, no, no way. What was wrong with him? In good spirits, he packed his bag. He would be the first to publish the photos. Ice Man! What a great headline!
Smiling, the woman directed the proceedings and continued to try to keep everyone off the ice.
She cheerfully pointed to frozen and half-buried trees and poles. To the shimmering moonlight that seemed to live inside. It was incredible that she recognized these things. Even with his eyes squinted, he had trouble glimpsing anything at all. The ice was just too thick. What a shame they couldn't see the snow-covered military base. But with the storm inside, that was probably too much to ask.
Screams. Painful ones. Ghosts? Here in the cold? Impossible, they hated Rivjord! But it didn't sound human. Anderson spun around. In the distance, far away from the group, someone touched the ice. Frost-colored lines crawled greedily up the arm, reaching the shoulder and devouring the warmth like hungry fish. Skin, hair, and clothing faded to stiff ice.
Let go! His words didn't leave his tongue.
Frightened, the woman jumped forward but was forced back by the angry wind. Fog howled, circled the man, streamed into nose and mouth. Anderson didn't look. And yet he heard the inhuman gurgling and cracking. Oh Rivjord. Sweat froze on his fingers. His heart was pounding, even hurting. Was he having a heart attack?
He pressed both hands on his chest. There was a flash. An echo hummed through the ice layer. The sound of the sea.
He cautiously opened his eyes. An ice sculpture. Nothing remained of him. The sight spoiled his stomach. He felt sick. The group stood frozen, too afraid to move even as the air howled over the tragedy.
And suddenly he heard it. The wind answered, faint whispering. Anderson couldn't understand it. Maybe they weren't even words. He only knew that they came from the sphere. Dark sounds. They sang, louder and louder. Calling for warmth. Out of the corner, he saw movement behind the snowstorm—
Anderson ran. He had to get away! No one could resist this temptation. He was a coward. So what! He had seen Rivjord. He had felt the cold. Never again! Even after he had reached his car in the blazing heat under the sun, the frosty cold remained in his body like a disease.
On that day, Anderson turned the heating up full blast in hope of stifling the whispering, frosty wind. He followed the road in silence, letting the woman's gentle words play in his mind. She was probably fine. Right? He had simply walked away... leaving everyone behind.
Anderson pushed the thoughts away. It must already be noon. How did the time just vanish? The article still had to be written. With trembling fingers, he gripped the steering wheel. One last time, he remembered the woman. Her black hair and protective presence. Oh… he didn't even ask her name...
"My little rascal!" Mathilda spread her arms to catch her son in mid-air, ignoring the frosty pain shooting through her bones. Blankets and pillows were already scattered. A veritable battlefield. "Did you make this mess?"
He shook his head. Liar. But a cute one. She hugged him tightly. His innocent eyes pierced deep into her chest. She couldn't lose Florian. They had to run, preferably far away. But where and when? Tourists should swarm the city any day now. The mess bought her time, hopefully enough.
"Hungry, hungry!" Florian cried excitedly. Mathilda smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and set him down. As if struck by lightning, he jumped toward the wardrobe. Well, one could only keep a child in a hotel room for so long. After all, he had slept way too long. She looked through the window one last time.
The afterlife had materialized. Everything worked a little too smoothly. The Riva Ministry reacted barely. Slow. Too slow. She shook her head. These ugly thoughts were shriveling her skin. But what if... Concentrate. Just observe the situation and wait. There were no further instructions. Not yet— hopefully, it remained that way.
Mathilda narrowed her eyes and stared at the street. Two trucks and figures in black suits. It couldn't be. But what if... Were those...? No, he wouldn't do it in broad daylight.
Soldiers then? Inconspicuous to most. Heavy boxes were being loaded into trucks. Quickly, effortlessly, and restlessly, the complete opposite of the citizens of this city. A few ghosts were also loitering nearby. Hmm, they shouldn't be a problem.
When she closed the curtain, Flo already had his first shoe on. She was running out of time. Mathilda quickly took out her cell phone and typed, Everfrost is here. Bigger than expected. Not well guarded yet. Mining should be completed quickly. No sooner had she sent the message than the letters lit up. He read it, right now. It disturbed her how well she could imagine the malicious smile on the other end of the line.
"Come on, come on, come on!"
"Our food isn't going to run away," replied Mathilda, pushing her worries aside. She didn't have time for that. Otherwise, Flo would notice something. An inconspicuous jacket. Don't forget! Oh, and normal shoes. Today, she played a normal citizen. Magic? What was that!
"McDonald's?"
"Not today."
"Ohhh..."
Mathilda opened the door. Florian jumped into the hallway and was already halfway to the stairwell. She put her cell phone in her pocket, grabbed a sun hat, and stepped through the doorway. A rustling sound. Something else was here.
An unpleasant feeling flooded her veins. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Had the hallway always been this dark blue? Absent light, like she had only seen in Rivjord. Everything seemed shrouded in fog, as if no one had entered this building in years. And then she heard it. Dull whispering; ice-clear letters burned in her field of vision and floated like feathers in the wind.
Hello...? Had he noticed? He couldn't have, right? Her heart was pounding. She turned pale with fear. The sound of the sea. It was faint, but her ears picked up something behind her. She stumbled forward and spun around. The key card flew out of her hand. No one was there; her room was empty. The curtains were still half closed. No lights. Jackets and bedding lay on the floor... Just as she had left it.
Mathilda rubbed her thumb over her damp palm. She trembled. Stay calm. Be strong for Florian. Okay... "Lighthouse, I'm going crazy." Restless, the letters shimmered in the air and led her to a distant place until her thoughts stood before a large iron gate. Whatever was behind it had to be incredible.
Metal steeped in deepest cold. Frozen shadows sealed the slit in the middle. Head-sized hinges and meter-thick chains kept the object floating in the air. White wings, engraved on the heavy metal. A place that seemed frighteningly familiar and welcoming at the same time.
Regular lights whispered under the door crack. Full of warmth...? How could that be? Maybe a candle or something else? Words, honey-sweet and full of love? Like a safe blanket wrapped around her body.
Relief washed over her. It was something else. No one shadowed her. Probably. She just had to take one step and find the light behind it. With this power, she didn't have to run. Then she could solve all her problems. Then she wouldn't have to hide anymore. No longer worry about the future. No longer...
Mathilda stepped back in awe. What did she just think? Why had she trusted the whispering mist when she didn't understand a word? Stay away from what you don't understand. She had explained that to the man earlier. Whatever was happening in her head, it was only pretending to be warmth. It had to be a trick!
No one loved her. Mathilda didn't deserve it. What was she supposed to make of it? She should feel terror, but her heart wouldn't let her.
Confused, Mathilda could only stare at the large gate. She should be afraid, shouldn't she? But she wasn't. Why? She had seen Rivjord's danger just a few hours ago. With each passing moment, the writings became clearer. The frozen seal burned. Shadows dripped to the ground and hissed into a rising black smoke.
The seal was weakening! More light shone under the door, and for some unexplained reason, she felt herself drawn to it. Pale with fear, she moved away. All these emotions... wow—it was just too much; it had to be wrong, an illusion!
Whatever this place was, Mathilda didn't want to be a part of it. This warm invitation did not bode well.
Then it was quiet. Her cell phone vibrated. A ringtone she had heard too often. What did he want now? Still frozen, she bit her lower lip. The white crystals on her skin itched. She had used too much Riva...
"Mom?" The voice woke her up like a loud alarm. Florian! The key card between his fingers, his eyes wide and full of concern. She quickly smiled, ruffled his black hair with relief, and hugged him. Her eyes were moist. She didn't want to let go of her boy. However, he would worry if she didn't.
"Everything's fine," she lied, wiping her moist eyes. "I was just thinking about what we're going to do later. I think you'll like it!"
"Really?" he asked excitedly, tugging at her shirt. "I don't want it to rain tomorrow."
"Then we'd better go eat quickly, right?" Everything would be fine again; she had to make sure of that. The door clicked shut, and they hurried together into the stairwell.