Olekyr waited until everyone woke up. They were lying right on the ice in the midst of an endless icy wasteland, where snow and cold had reigned for millennia, untouched by any living creature. Ancient ice cracked beneath their feet, and all around rose white waves of snowdrifts that shimmered in the morning sunlight.
Myrolana, with a light gesture, created a new dress of strange appearance for herself—the fabric seemed to be born from frost and light. This was not surprising: their old clothes had long since crumbled to dust after the severe trials. And although they knew each other's bodies well, a sense of shame still lingered, like an echo of human nature amid this boundless ice.
She leaned casually on his shoulder, gazing at the dark sky where the last stars still wandered. "And where are we going today?"
Olekyr was silent for a few moments, gathering his thoughts—unusually long for him. This made the others stop their morning routine and look at him. "We're not going anywhere," he finally said.
"What?!" A simultaneous exclamation shattered the silence of the wasteland.
"Are you sick?"
"Did something happen?"
"Did I do something wrong?"
A sudden wave of questions nearly knocked him off balance. Olekyr raised his hands, trying to calm them. Only after a few minutes did he manage to restore silence and begin to speak:
"Everything's fine, don't worry. It's just... we've already arrived."
The words hung in the frosty air like shards of ice. Even the wind died down, and the wasteland froze, listening to them. Myrolana felt her fingers involuntarily tighten on his shoulder.
"Arrived?" repeated Yaroslavna, her voice breaking mid-word.
Olekyr nodded. He had already spent some time alone with this thought, but even so, it was hard for him to hide his excitement. Myrolana subtly moved aside, and Yaroslavna took her place.
"Then it turns out that we've achieved what you sought," she said quietly but firmly. "Maybe then you'll tell us what you want?"
He hesitated. Silence fell like an unbearable weight on their shoulders. Only the cold wind slid over the ice, as if reminding them that even the wasteland was listening to their words. Finally, he sighed and spoke:
"You remember how I was once struck by a fever?"
These were unexpected words. Everyone nodded in confusion, only Yaroslavna sank into her own thoughts, her gaze lost somewhere in the snowy distance. Olekyr paid no attention to their expressions and continued:
"Then... it was then that I had a dream. Or maybe it was a vision? Or simply the ravings of a sick man—I don't know. And now I probably can't say anything for sure."
"What did you dream?" Myrolana's voice was almost a whisper, but it cut through the silence sharper than ice.
"The future..."
The group faltered. From surprise and shock, they couldn't utter a single word. But he didn't give them time to recover and continued, as if afraid of losing the thread:
"I saw the world torn apart. I saw people as nothing more than livestock raised for slaughter. I saw the great ones torn to pieces, and I was forced to fight against it. I saw the last alliance preparing to challenge the last of the rulers."
He paused for a moment, and the frosty breath of the wasteland filled the pause. Then his voice thundered again, like icy thunder:
"And I saw it crumble because of the ruler's sweet words. I saw everyone who dared to oppose him betrayed and killed."
His words hung in the air like shards of ice that wouldn't fall to the ground. Everyone was silent. Myrolana felt her heart tighten with fear, while Yaroslavna, on the contrary, looked at him with a strange determination, as if in these words she had found confirmation of her own thoughts.
"I don't want to repeat that fate, but it's inevitable. And so I want to prepare. Power is seething inside me now."
He clenched his fist and quickly opened it, creating a flame in his palm. It flared brightly, reflections dancing on the ice beneath their feet, but a moment later he extinguished it, as if afraid the light would betray his thoughts.
"But that's not enough," he continued. "No matter how strong I am, it's impossible to fight those who have lived for hundreds, if not thousands, of years and have countless loyal followers. I could gather people just as I did then: gradually, helping them become stronger. But what's the point if they'll easily betray me?"
His words fell upon the group like a heavy yoke. A wave of doubt and anxiety passed through them like the cold wind of the wasteland. Their minds filled with images they didn't want to believe but now seemed possible. Olekyr saw it in their eyes, though he didn't look directly—he knew what they were thinking. But it no longer mattered.
"Until suddenly a wizard approached me, old, feeble, reclusive," his voice became hollow but held strength. "And with him was a woman. She told me about research... research that was the vilest and most insane thing I'd ever heard."
His voice trembled with disgust and yet fascination. This combination frightened the others more than the words themselves. They felt he had touched something dangerous, something that could change their fate.
"They were able to prove and confirm the existence of... the soul."
Silence fell upon them, heavier than the ice beneath their feet. Even the wind died down, as if the world itself was listening to these words. Myrolana felt her heart tighten, Yaroslavna lowered her eyes, and Myroslava only silently looked at Olekyr.
"And if that were all, it could be called a discovery. If not for the goal of their research..." Olekyr's voice became hollow, almost a whisper. "Ah, I still consider them different people. A pity."
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if seeing again what they had told him. "They were researching the possibilities of resurrection. Separating the soul and transferring it to another body. But they were struck by misfortune: during one experiment, the brother's soul entered her body. There they mingled, forever losing their own identities."
His lips twisted into a smile, but it was cold, without joy. "And no matter how disgusted I was, I kept listening to them. Because if self-taught wizards could learn this, what about such powerful beings as the rulers?"
The group froze. Myrolana took a step back, her eyes shining with fear. Yaroslavna, on the contrary, leaned forward as if eager to hear every word.
"They told me a lot," Olekyr continued, and his voice grew heavier, like a stone falling into an abyss. "How to preserve souls. How to divide them. How to combine them. And most importantly—what exactly happened then."
The wind howled over the wasteland, as if the world itself reacted to these words. Everyone felt that the knowledge he spoke of was more dangerous than any weapon.
"Power flows through all living things and converges in one place. A place that is almost impossible to reach. The path there is thorny, but the reward is enormous. Here, in the northern wasteland, one can create, one can research and not fear! Right?!"
Olekyr laughed like a madman, then suddenly fell silent.
"I came here, as you wanted, right?"
At that moment, the air around him thickened, swirling into a vortex. The ice beneath his feet rang, and the snow rose upward as if sucked by an invisible force. And then the unthinkable happened: a radiance burst from his chest, taking shape. It was part of him, yet something else.
Another moment—and there was no one beside him. Then from this radiance emerged her: a snow-white beauty, as if stepping out from within him. Her face was adorned with an attractive smile, and her eyes shone with a cold light that both beckoned and frightened.
"How long have you known?" Her voice was quiet, but it echoed within him, as if she spoke not from outside but from within.
"Only a few moments ago," he replied, feeling their emotions intertwine. "When I felt your excitement, which amplified mine."
She tilted her head slightly, her smile widening.
"And I thought I had managed to suppress it... Well, it seems my control isn't so perfect."
The group behind them froze in silence. They weren't just seeing the appearance of a stranger—they were witnessing a being erupt from Olekyr himself, part of him yet alien.
Olekyr smiled, but his smile held more self-deprecation than joy.
"So it wasn't a dream after all, was I right?"
The white figure tilted her head, her eyes shining with cold light.
"Of course not, silly. It was something far greater than you can imagine. It affected the entire continent and every living being, but to varying degrees. And when it ended—the world returned to normal."
"And you?" His voice broke, anxiety in it.
"And what about me?" She smiled, and the smile was both tender and unsettling.
Olekyr shook his head, feeling the words stick in his throat.
"You know perfectly well what I mean. How did you end up inside me if everything returned to normal?"
She sighed, and her voice became quiet but confident:
"Ah, that. I simply decided to stay with you. Because I knew: you would definitely come here."
"How?" He uttered it almost in a whisper, as if afraid to hear the answer.
"Don't ask such foolish questions," her eyes flashed with cold fire. "You know who I am. I am the most powerful sorceress of all when it comes to the soul."
His heart tightened.
"And what about your body?"
She smiled even wider, but there was no warmth in her smile.
"Probably lying dead in a vault."
Myrolana suddenly interrupted the conversation, her voice cutting through the frosty air:
"Who is this?"
Olekyr shuddered but replied, as if still not believing his own words:
"This... This is Elykoriya. The sorceress I told you about."
Myrolana narrowed her eyes, her cheeks already faintly flushed, but she didn't back down:
"I already figured that out. Who is she to you?"
This question made him freeze. He felt his heart beat faster, but the words wouldn't come. No matter how much he thought, there was no answer.
Elykoriya smiled, tilted her head, and spoke calmly, but in a way that every word echoed in their souls:
"Is it really so hard? I am you. I am your mentor, your faithful friend, your shadow. And if needed, I can be a lover too, just like these."
Her words fell like a stone into water.
Myrolana flushed to her ears, sharply turned away, crossing her arms over her chest.
"S-saying such things in front of everyone... You're completely shameless!" Her voice was sharp, but it held a hidden fondness she tried to conceal.
Yaroslavna also blushed, but her eyes blazed. She clenched her fists, trying to restrain herself.
"If you're truly his shadow... then I'll accept you, because he wants it. But remember: he is my world. And if you even try to harm him, I'll stop at nothing."
Even Myroslava, the mother, colored slightly, but her voice remained soft and warm:
"Girls..." she sighed and placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "Don't argue. I can see she's not an enemy."
Elykoriya only smiled wider, her gaze sliding over each of them as if weighing their souls.