Chapter 21

The sky was already pale when we left Reedwatch, though the sun had yet to crest the distant mountains. We were already deep in the hills, and by noon we reached the base of the peaks. As usual, we stopped to eat and train before beginning the ascent. Old snow clung to the ground here, crunching beneath our boots, and the air grew colder with every step. As we climbed higher, soft flakes drifted down around us, carried on a biting wind.

By midafternoon the trees thinned and vanished entirely, leaving us to pick our way along narrow paths cut into sheer stone, through winding passes and icy ravines. We spotted several large bears in the distance, hulking shapes moving slowly across the slopes, but none approached. As the sun slipped behind the peaks, the world narrowed to the pale gray of stone and the deep blue of ancient ice.

It was in one such canyon that we found a standing stone. Strange symbols had been carved into its surface, weathered but deliberate.

“This is a good place for an ambush,” Ashlara said, her eyes never leaving the cliffs above us.

“What do you think these mean?” Mirri asked, brushing snow from the stone, trying to make out the markings.

They stirred something familiar in me - not the symbols themselves, but the way they were carved. Scratched. Claimed. Like graffiti. “They’re names,” I said, tracing one with my fingers. “Like people carving their mark just to say they were here. Or that they mattered.”

“You’re right!” Mirri said, brightening. “This one says Pipni. I knew a Pipni once…”

“Vorami. Elvarin. Kelbie,” Serah added quietly. “So many tongues.”

The wind rose suddenly. Ice cracked overhead. Ashlara shifted, the haft of her axe finding her hands. “They’re here,” she said, flat and certain.

I dove on instinct as a rock the size of my head slammed into the wall where I’d been standing. I rolled and came up with my staff ready. Another stone flew - Ashlara caught it with her shield, the impact driving her back several steps. Ice shattered beneath Mirri’s feet as chunks of stone tore free from the canyon walls and hovered around her, trembling with barely contained magic. Serah retreated a pace, her eyes scanning for threats.

Something struck from behind.

I spun just in time to raise my staff, parrying a massive blow. The **** sent me sprawling. The arm attached to it was enormous, and the body behind it even more so.

A troll.

It stood over eight feet tall, its skin the same dull gray as the canyon walls, threaded through with veins of cold blue light. Thin, wiry white hair spilled from its head, framing a face like a statue hacked from stone - jagged, rough, only vaguely human. Its features were exaggerated, almost mocking, and its small, pale eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.

More of them emerged around us, dropping from ledges, climbing from cracks in the stone. The one looming over me swung again, its hand easily large enough to crush my skull. I barely twisted aside in time.

I heard Ashlara’s voice, raw and strained. “No… please, Seth…”

She wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes were locked on the troll in front of her.

That moment of distraction was all it took.

Something slammed into my chest - heavy, unyielding. It tore the breath from my lungs. The world spun, the canyon blurring into light and shadow, and then everything went dark.

* * *

I woke with my breath caught in my throat. It took a long moment before I could **** it out again. The nightmares were back. They always came back when work got bad - shapeless things full of anger, fear, and hopelessness that pressed in from every side.

I glanced to the left. Jennifer had built a wall of pillows between us again. She lay with her back to me, breathing slow and even. She couldn’t stand to look at me anymore. The fact that we still shared a bed at all felt like a fragile miracle.

A whimper drifted through the apartment.

As exhausted as I was, I pushed myself upright. I straightened the twisted mess of T-shirt and shorts I always ended up tangled in and followed the sound down the hall. Emily’s door was closed, but the soft crying inside left no doubt.

I knocked as quietly as I could. “Emily, are you okay?”

A stupid question. If she were okay, she wouldn’t be crying in the middle of the night. I clenched my jaw and shoved the self-loathing aside. There would be time for that later. Right now, she needed someone. Even if that someone was only me.

“Go away,” she said, her voice strained, followed by a sharp sniff.

“Emily.” I cracked the door open but didn’t step inside. This was her space, and she hated me in it. Still, she was a child, and I had a responsibility to her.

“I said go away,” she whispered.

I pushed the door open. In the dim light from the narrow window, I saw her roll over and pull the blankets over her head. I crossed the room, tripped over something on the floor, swallowed a curse, and sat on the edge of her bed.

“Emily,” I said softly. “Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I hate you.” The words came muffled through the blankets. Then louder. “I hate you. You and Mom fight all the time. Everything was better before you!” Her voice broke. “I miss my dad. I wish you would just go away!”

The words hit just as hard as they always did.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. She’d said it before. And she meant it. Her world had been torn apart, and I hadn’t made it any easier. For all her anger and sharp edges, she was still just a kid - lost, hurting, trying to make sense of a life that no longer felt safe.

None of that changed the fact that she hated me. That I was failing as a husband and failing just as badly as a father. I wondered, again, if things would be better if I left. Or worse… if I simply wasn’t here at all. Had I made things so bad they were irreparable and my presence was now irrelevant?

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. What else could I say? “I know this is hard. I wish…” My voice faltered. “I wish I could make things better.”

“I hate everything about you!” she shouted, sitting up.

“I know,” I said, the hopelessness creeping higher. “But I’ll try to be better. I need to be better. For you. For your mom. For… us.”

I hugged her.

It had backfired before. Often. But I needed her to know I was still trying. That she mattered. That even if I was terrible at this, I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Please,” I whispered as tears slid down my cheeks. “Give me another chance. You don’t have to forgive me. You don’t have to like me. I’ll still be here. I’ll keep trying. Always.”

For a long moment she was rigid. Then, slowly, hesitantly, her arms wrapped around me. She buried her face in my shirt, her tears hot against my chest.

Snow began to fall.

Soft flakes drifted down, settling on her pillow, her dresser. The window cracked with a sharp, mournful sound. A jagged pane fell away, revealing ice-coated stone beyond. Cracks spread, crawling across the wall like veins, chunks of the apartment breaking away to expose a frozen canyon.

I held Emily tighter, rocking her gently as the world came apart.

The snow stopped falling, hanging suspended in the air.

Mirri knelt on the frozen ground nearby, tears frozen on her cheeks, her head bowed in hopeless resignation. Looming over her stood a goblin man, pale as ****, nude and blue-lipped, his white hair crusted with ice. His features were blurred, indistinct, as if looking at him through a smudged camera lens. Yet his eyes were sharp and clear - pale blue and burning with grief and anger.

Ashlara lay curled into herself, her back to me, shoulders shaking. A frozen naga woman stood over her, clad in a tattered skirt, her pale brown eyes sharp and mournful through the haze that hid her face.

Even Serah was broken - knees drawn under her, arms wrapped tight around herself as she sobbed into the snow. Above her stood a young orc man, frozen and half-clothed, one boot still on his foot. His gaze held the same mix of rage and pity as the others.

Only then did I look down.

I knelt on the ice, arms wrapped around a human woman. Her skin was pale, her white hair frozen against her head, her simple brown dress torn and stiff with ice. She clutched me the way Emily had, her tears burning cold against my skin.

I eased her back enough to see her face. She looked to be around forty, once beautiful I guessed, despite the blur of her features. Her green eyes were so pale they were nearly white. Tears froze on her lashes and shattered when she blinked. And yet, beneath the grief, there was something else.

Tentative relief. Not the removal of her anguish, but the slight easing of it. Like a candle of hope in a world of despair.

Around her neck hung a delicate chain with a small locket. Amilie, etched in soft script.

“Is that your name?” I asked gently. “Amilie?”

She nodded. As she did, her features sharpened, the blur lifting just a little.

“Amilie, I need to check on my friends. Is that okay?” Another faint nod. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

When I stood, I realized I wasn’t cold. The wind was gone. The air was still. Snowflakes still hung motionless in the air.

I approached Serah, meeting the gaze of the frozen man above her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I told him softly.

I knelt and touched Serah’s shoulder. “Serah.” She whimpered. I rolled her gently onto her side. “You’re safe. I’m here.”

It took time, but her eyes finally fluttered open.

“Seth!” she gasped and gripped my shirt. “My father - he’s coming! It’s not safe!” Her body tensed and her eyes darted about in fear.

“He’s not here, Serah,” I said softly. “It was a bad dream.”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. Her gaze snapped to the orc, smoke curling from her nostrils. “That troll!” she spat.

I wrapped my arms around her to prevent her from doing anything rash. The muscles in her body tensed and warped unnaturally as I held her tighter. “He’s not a troll,” I softly corrected her. “He’s an orc. It’s ok. I’m not sure where the trolls went, but they’re not here anymore.”

Confusion rippled across her face. Doubt. Fear. She looked from him to me and back.

Then it struck me, and it was my turn to doubt. Was this their mind magic? Was it affecting me? Her? Both of us? At this point I couldn’t trust anyone or anything. But I still had to do something.

I stood carefully. She grabbed my arm with crushing strength, almost dislocating my shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said with a nod more confident than I felt. Eventually she let go.

I approached the orc slowly. “What’s your name?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as friendly and calm as possible. Even if we didn’t speak the same language, maybe the tone of my voice would help, like talking to a dog.

I touched his shoulder. His pale flesh cracked like ice.

I yanked my hand back, heart racing. “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to- Are you ok? Is that…” I stared at his shoulder, “going to be ok?”

He wasn’t bleeding. His flesh had fractured like glass, but he didn’t seem to be in pain.

“Ok, no touching...” I said as much to myself as to Serah and him. “Ok…Ok… How do we do this… Name… Name… The stone!” I cried. I ran to the pillar of carved rock, keeping my eyes on the orc. “Is one of these yours? Can you show me which one?” After a long moment, he stepped forward and brushed the snow away, pointing.

“Serah?” I asked.

She glanced from the orc to the stone and back, swallowing. “Makresh.”

The orc staggered back as if he’d been struck. “Your name is Makresh?” I asked tentatively, softly, not wanting to inflict any more pain. His gaze softened some, much like Amilie’s did, and he nodded. His features sharpened. The blur faded.

“He’s… an orc,” Serah whispered.

“I think so,” I replied softly. It had something to do with their names. “Stay here, I’ll get the others.”