The town of Frostfall was less a settlement and more a scar on the edge of the wilderness. A haphazard collection of log buildings and patched-up stone structures huddled behind a wooden palisade, smoke from countless hearths struggling to rise against the perpetual chill. It was a place for trappers, miners, and adventurers too poor or too desperate to live further south. A place where questions were scarce and anonymity was a currency.
It was perfect.
Kai stood at the tree line, observing. The simple act of consuming the Frost-Blossom had done more than just amplify his power; it had sharpened his mind. His thoughts were clearer, more strategic. The raw, vengeful fury was still there, but it was now a tool he stored in a sheath of ice, not a wildfire threatening to consume him.
He needed supplies. A cloak to hide his distinctive appearance. Information. The world had moved on without the True Dragons, and he was dangerously ignorant.
But first, he needed to look... normal.
He focused on the Draconic Heartcore, imagining a valve closing, damping the flow of primordial energy. The faint, visible mist that coiled from his skin receded. The intense, glacial blue of his eyes softened, the crystalline fracture within them receding until they looked almost human—a pale, icy blue, but passable. It was a strain, like holding his breath, but it was necessary.
He pulled the hood of his tattered tunic up, shadowing his white hair, and walked toward the town gates.
The two guards at the entrance were bundled in furs, their noses red from the cold. They gave him a cursory glance. One of them, a man with a bushy beard stiff with frozen breath, grunted.
"Business in Frostfall?"
"Supplies," Kai said, keeping his voice low and even. "Heading south."
The guard shrugged, already losing interest. "Watch your coin purse. The Weeping Wolf's full of cutthroats." He waved him through.
Kai stepped into the muddy, slush-choked main street. The air was thick with the smells of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and unwashed humanity. It was overwhelming. His heightened senses, accustomed to the pristine cold of the high peaks, recoiled at the stench. He saw the world in hyper-detail: the dishonesty in a merchant's smile, the hidden knife in a trader's boot, the fear in the eyes of a servant. It was a den of desperation, and he felt entirely separate from it.
His destination was a modest trader's post, its sign bearing a faded painting of a sack of grain. He needed a cloak, a pack, and most importantly, a map.
The bell above the door jangled as he entered. The shop was cluttered and warm, a stark contrast to the outside. An elderly woman with a face like a wrinkled apple looked up from behind a counter.
"Help you, lad?" she asked, her eyes sharp and missing nothing.
Kai nodded, keeping his head down. He selected a heavy, wool-lined traveler's cloak in a dark grey, a sturdy backpack, and a waterskin. He carried them to the counter.
"And a map of the region," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
The woman produced a rolled parchment from under the counter. "This'll show the trails to the capital, Silveridge. Marked the safe routes and the… less safe ones." She eyed his torn, blood-stained tunic. "You look like you've seen the less safe ones."
Kai didn't reply. He placed a few silver coins on the counter—the last of his money from the failed expedition with Liam.
As the woman counted the coins, her eyes flickered to his hand resting on the counter. She froze. The faint, ethereal lines of the dragon sigil were just visible, creeping up from his chest to his neck. They pulsed with a soft, azure light he hadn't fully been able to suppress.
Her gaze snapped to his hood-shadowed face, and for a moment, their eyes met. She saw the pale blue, the hint of something ancient and inhuman lurking within. Her breath hitched.
Kai's heart thudded once, a cold spike of alarm. The icy power within him stirred, ready to lash out, to freeze this potential threat into silence.
But the old woman did not scream. She did not call for the guards. Instead, she slowly pushed the coins back toward him.
"Keep your silver, child of the mountain," she whispered, her voice trembling with something that wasn't quite fear. It was awe. "The old stories say the ice gives gifts to those it favors. Take the supplies. And take this." She slid a small, smooth, rune-etched stone across the counter. It was cold to the touch. "It's a Warding Stone. It will hide the… song of your spirit from those who listen for such things. For a time."
Kai stared at her, then at the stone. This was unexpected. He gave a slow, cautious nod, taking the stone and feeling an immediate, slight dampening of the energy radiating from his Heartcore. It was a relief.
"Thank you," he said, the words feeling foreign.
"Go south," she urged, her voice low. "But avoid the main road. The King's Inquisitors are hunting. They seek abominations… things that are not meant to be." Her meaning was clear. She saw what he was, or at least, saw enough to know he was different.
He gathered his supplies and turned to leave.
"And child?" she called softly. He paused at the door. "The ice does not give gifts lightly. There is always a price."
He stepped back into the cold street, the Warding Stone a comforting weight in his pocket. He had gotten what he needed, and a warning. The hunters Aurelis spoke of were not just a future threat; they were already here. Inquisitors.
He needed to leave. Now.
But as he moved to melt into the crowd, a commotion erupted at the other end of the street. A group of three riders clad in polished steel plate armor over white tabards forced their way through the muddy thoroughfare. Their leader, a man with a severe, clean-shaven face and eyes as grey and hard as flint, held up a hand. The symbol on his tabard was a blazing sun imposed over a broken chain.
Inquisitors.
"By the order of the Sun Throne!" the leader's voice boomed, cutting through the noise of the town. "We seek information on a disturbance in the glacial magics! Any strange occurrences, mutated beasts, or individuals exhibiting unnatural control over frost are to be reported immediately! Silence is complicity!"
The crowd murmured, fear evident on their faces.
Kai pulled his new cloak tight, the hood casting his face in deep shadow. He turned down a narrow alley, moving with purpose but not haste. Panic would draw attention. He could feel the lead Inquisitor's gaze sweeping over the crowd like a physical weight. The man's presence was a void of warmth, an anti-thesis to the power Kai carried.
He reached the edge of town near the stables, where the palisade was at its lowest. He was moments from escape.
"You there! Halt!"
The voice was directly behind him. One of the Inquisitors, a younger man with a zealot's fire in his eyes, had followed him into the alley. He had his hand on the hilt of a sword that glowed with faint, warm enchantments. A sword designed to burn away magic. To burn away him.
"You match a description," the Inquisitor said, stepping closer. "A boy with white hair, seen near the glacier. Take down your hood."
Kai stopped. He didn't turn around. He could feel the Warding Stone working, but it wouldn't hide his physical appearance.
"I said, take down your hood!" the man commanded, his voice hardening.
Slowly, Kai turned. He met the Inquisitor's gaze, letting his hood shadow his eyes but revealing the lower part of his face, the pale skin, the set of his jaw.
The Inquisitor's eyes widened. "Your hair… it's white. By the Sun, it's you." He started to draw his sword. "In the name of the Order, you will submit to—"
Kai didn't let him finish. He had learned his lesson with the goblins. There was no room for theatrics. Only efficiency.
He didn't raise his hands. He didn't speak a word. He simply willed it.
The moisture in the air around the Inquisitor's metal gauntlets, still on the hilt of his sword, flash-froze. There was a sharp crack as the steel became brittle and the skin beneath it instantly fused to the metal. The Inquisitor screamed, a short, guttural sound of agony and shock, as his hand was frozen solid to his weapon.
Before the man could even process the pain, Kai took two swift steps and drove his knee into the Inquisitor's armored stomach. The blow carried the enhanced strength of his draconic body. The air left the man's lungs with a whoosh, and he crumpled to the ground, gasping and clutching his frozen, ruined hand.
Kai looked down at him, his expression hidden but his voice a whisper of absolute cold that cut through the man's pain.
"Tell your Order," Kai said. "The ice is no longer sleeping."
Then he turned, took a running start, and leaped. He cleared the eight-foot palisade with unnatural ease, landing silently in the snow beyond.
He was gone before the fallen Inquisitor could even cry for help.
The hunt had begun. But Kai was no longer just running. He was leading them into his domain.