Shuan suddenly collapsed onto his knees.
He could no longer stand.
His entire body had become a battlefield between two impossible forces—burning heat inside him and the merciless cold surrounding him, as though his body itself no longer understood which world it belonged to.
His breathing shattered into uneven gasps.
Pain spread beneath his skin like cracks forming through frozen glass.
Then tears began falling from his eyes.
Not from fear alone.
But confusion.
Pain.
And the feeling that something inside him was breaking apart before he could even understand what it was.
“I… didn’t do anything…” he whispered weakly.
His voice sounded fragile.
Small.
Like a child lost inside a storm far too large for him.
The weapons remained pointed directly at him without hesitation.
One wrong movement.
One sudden breath.
That was all it would take.
The soldiers’ fingers rested near their triggers with frightening discipline.
They were not nervous.
Which made them even more terrifying.
One of the soldiers stepped forward quickly.
Then, in a single motion— cold metallic restraints wrapped around Shuan’s wrists.
Another locked around his arms.
Then across his chest.
The metal burned against his overheated skin like ice pressed directly onto open flesh.
“Do not move.” The soldier’s voice was absolute.
Not the tone used for a criminal.
Or even a human.
It was the voice of someone containing a dangerous unknown.
Shuan tried to resist instinctively.
His muscles twitched.
But his body refused to obey him properly.
The strength drained from him almost instantly.
He collapsed fully onto his knees again as the chains tightened with sharp metallic clicks.
The pressure crushed against his ribs every time he breathed.
Tears mixed with freezing sweat across his face.
His vision blurred.
The warmth inside him only continued growing stronger.
His skin felt hot enough to split apart.
And somewhere deep beneath the pain— something was moving.
Awakening.
Hol stood nearby.
Silent.
Smiling.
But this time… there was nothing warm in that smile.
Nothing kind.
It was different now.
Cold.
Measured.
Like a man observing the final stage of an experiment.
Shuan slowly lifted his eyes toward him.
Confusion filled his expression more than hatred.
As if he still could not fully understand when everything had changed.
Hol calmly stepped closer to a woman standing near the entrance.
She wore a long dark coat lined with pale fur, its edges dusted with snow.
Her dark hair was tied tightly behind her head, and her sharp eyes watched the scene without revealing a single emotion.
She had not touched her weapon.
Which somehow made her presence even more unsettling.
Hol spoke quietly, almost casually.
“All that remains… is confirmation.” The woman looked toward him slightly.
“Confirmation of what?” Hol’s smile widened faintly.
“That he is one of them.” A brief silence followed.
Then he added: “One of the Eyes of Ice.” The soldiers immediately tightened their grips around their weapons.
Even the atmosphere inside the tent seemed to freeze harder at those words.
And Shuan— still kneeling on the ground— heard the title for the second time.
But now it no longer sounded like a story told beside firelight.
Now it sounded like an accusation.
Or perhaps a sentence already decided long ago.
Lemar remained silent for several seconds.
Then she slowly approached him.
Step by step.
The sound of her boots against the frozen floor echoed softly through the tent.
She stopped directly in front of Shuan and lowered her gaze toward him.
Not looking at him like a person.
But like someone searching for something hidden beneath his skin.
Shuan unconsciously lowered his eyes.
Not out of submission— but because something inside him feared what she might see.
Then Lemar finally spoke.
“If he truly is one of them…” Her voice was calm and emotionless.
“…then his fate will not belong to us.” Silence.
Hol gave a soft laugh.
“Exactly.” Then he looked back toward Shuan once more.
And this time— there was no trace left of the man who had saved him from the snow.
Only someone waiting for the outcome of a process that had already begun long before Shuan understood any part of it.