The Galeheart Wilds did not welcome visitors.
That was something Axiom understood the moment he stepped fully past the edge.
The air felt heavier—not thick, but watchful. The wind, which usually rushed through the trees like a restless animal, had drawn back into uneasy stillness. Even the ground beneath his feet felt firmer, packed by generations of creatures that survived by being stronger than whatever tried to eat them.
And at the center of it all—
The frozen stream.
Axiom stopped a few steps short of the ice.
It wasn't natural. Not the cold, not the shape, not the way the water had been sealed mid-flow as if time itself had hesitated. The surface was smooth enough to reflect the gray sky above, unbroken by cracks or frost patterns.
Someone stood on it.
She looked his age.
That was the strangest part.
Barefoot, pale-haired, thin in the way children who survived hard places often were—but standing with an ease that didn't belong to someone who should have been shivering. A sword rested in her hands, too large for decoration, too balanced to be a toy.
She was staring down at the ice as if listening to it.
Axiom swallowed.
This wasn't fear.
It was disbelief.
Because this world had rules.
And she was already bending them.
"You're going to fall if you stare like that."
The girl turned her head slowly.
Her eyes were sharp, curious, and completely unafraid.
"I won't," she said. "It's solid."
"…That's not what I meant."
She studied him openly now, gaze moving from his worn clothes to the sword at his side, then back to his face.
"You live here," she said.
"Yes."
"This island is strange."
"Yes."
She nodded, satisfied. "Then it makes sense you're strange too."
Axiom frowned. "That's rude."
"It's accurate."
He had no good response to that.
They stood there for a moment, the silence stretching—not awkward, just unfamiliar. The Wilds remained still, as if waiting to see what they would do next.
Finally, Axiom spoke again.
"Did you do this?" He gestured to the ice.
"Yes."
"…Why?"
She tilted her head. "The water was noisy."
Axiom stared.
"You froze a stream because it annoyed you?"
"Yes."
"That's—" He stopped himself, exhaled. "Okay. New rule. I'm not questioning things today."
She seemed pleased by that.
"My name is Esdeath," she said.
Axiom hesitated only a moment before answering.
"Axiom."
She tested the name silently, then nodded once. "It fits."
"I didn't choose it."
"Neither did I choose the cold."
That… gave him pause.
He looked at her more carefully now. She wasn't posturing. Wasn't bragging. She spoke the way people did when stating facts, not threats.
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"I woke up yesterday," Esdeath replied. "It was cold. Then I walked."
"…From where?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
Axiom closed his eyes briefly.
Of course it couldn't be simple.
They didn't fight.
They didn't train.
They just… moved.
Axiom stepped cautiously onto the ice. It held his weight easily. The cold seeped into his feet immediately, sharp and biting.
Esdeath watched him, expression unreadable.
"You're tense," she said.
"You're standing on frozen water like it's a dock," he replied. "I think I'm allowed to be tense."
She considered that. "Fair."
He inched forward, testing balance, keeping his weight centered the way Toren had once taught him when crossing unstable planks. The ice didn't crack. It didn't shift.
It obeyed her.
That realization settled quietly in his chest.
"You can turn it off?" he asked.
"Yes."
"…Can you turn it back on after?"
"Yes."
Axiom nodded slowly.
"Then you probably shouldn't stay here," he said.
She blinked. "Why?"
"Because if someone else sees this," he explained, "they'll either try to take you or kill you."
Esdeath looked genuinely confused.
"…Why?"
Axiom sighed.
"Because this is the sea."
The walk back to Lowtide Village was tense for entirely different reasons.
Esdeath followed him without question, eyes wandering curiously as the Wilds slowly released their grip on the air. The wind returned first, cautious at first, then freer. Sounds crept back—birds, insects, distant waves.
By the time the docks came into view, Esdeath had stopped looking curious.
Now she was observing.
People stared.
Not openly—but enough.
Axiom felt it immediately. The shift in attention. A stranger, barefoot, armed, walking calmly beside him.
Hana noticed first.
She always did.
"Who's the child?" she asked, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"She's… staying with me," Axiom said.
That wasn't a lie.
It also wasn't the truth.
Hana looked at Esdeath, then back at Axiom. Something in her gaze softened—not with trust, but recognition.
"…Fine," she said. "She'll need food."
Esdeath tilted her head. "I don't eat much."
Hana snorted. "We'll see."
No one asked more questions.
Lowtide Village had learned long ago that the sea brought strange things ashore. If they survived the night and didn't cause trouble, they were allowed to stay.
That night, Esdeath slept on the floor near Axiom's bed.
She didn't shiver.
She didn't move.
Axiom lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind slip through the cracks in the walls.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not like this.
But as his thoughts slowly settled, one thing became clear.
Whatever rules the world had been following—
They had just been quietly rewritten.
And the Wilds had noticed first.