Night swallowed Frostfang Forest whole. As Snow fell in slow, heavy sheets, drifting down between the trees and settling over the ground in a thick white blanket. The moon hung high above, pale and cold, but its light could barely push through the tangle of branches overhead. What little glow reached the forest floor looked thin and sickly, like a candle burning behind frosted glass.
Theon walked at the front, his boots sinking into the snow with every step.
Lyra stayed close behind him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Fen moved beside them without a sound, his massive white body gliding through the dark like a ghost. His predatory eyes swept the trees, never staying still, always searching.
For a long while, none of them spoke.
The only sound was the crunch of snow beneath their feet, over and over, steady as a heartbeat.
Theon could not shake the feeling that something was watching them. It was a small thing at first, just a prickle at the back of his neck, but it grew heavier the deeper they went. Every shadow between the trees seemed darker than it should be. Every gust of wind carried a faint sound that almost sounded like a whisper, though he could never quite catch the words.
His hand tightened around the hilt of his shadow sword.
"Fen," he said quietly, his breath fogging in the cold air. "Do you sense anything?"
The giant wolf stopped mid step.
"Yes, Master."
Theon’s eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
Fen’s ears twitched, turning slightly toward the deeper dark.
"Something is moving ahead of us."
Beside him, Lyra shivered, and not from the cold.
"The voice is stronger now," she whispered.
Theon looked back at her. Her face had gone pale, and her eyes were fixed on something none of them could see.
"What is it saying?"
She lowered her head, her fingers digging into her own arms.
"It keeps calling me."
A cold feeling spread through Theon’s chest, one that had nothing to do with the snow. He did not like this. Not at all. But there was no turning back now, so he only nodded and kept walking, forcing his legs forward one step at a time.
A few minutes later, he stopped without warning.
Something lay half buried in the snow ahead of him.
He knelt down and brushed the snow away with his fingers. A broken chain lay beneath, its metal blackened and covered in frost, as though it had been left there for years instead of hours.
"It came from the prisoner," Theon murmured.
Fen lowered his head and sniffed the air around it.
"And not long ago."
Theon rose slowly, looking into the darkness ahead. So the man was not hiding from them after all. He was leading them somewhere. Waiting for them to follow.
A few steps further, Lyra pointed toward a nearby tree, her hand trembling.
A single black feather was caught on the bark, its edges frosted white.
Then another feather appeared a few paces on.
And another after that, like a trail someone wanted them to see.
Theon’s jaw tightened. "The raven."
They followed the line of feathers deeper into the trees. With every step the air grew colder, thinner, harder to breathe. The trees around them grew taller and wider, their trunks twisting upward like giant claws reaching for the sky. Even the wind seemed to fall away here, leaving behind a silence so complete that Theon could hear his own blood rushing in his ears.
Then, from somewhere close, a low growl rolled through the darkness. Fen moved instantly, placing his body between Lyra and the sound. Theon raised his sword, his heart pounding hard against his ribs.
Two points of glowing blue light appeared between the trees. Then two more beside them. Then six. Then ten, until an entire ring of pale blue eyes surrounded them from every direction.
A pack of enormous wolves stepped out of the shadows, their fur made of what looked like solid ice and frost, each one nearly the size of a warhorse.
A-rank Frost Wolves. Theon had only ever read about them in old hunting records.
Lyra’s breath caught in her throat. "There are so many."
Fen’s growl deepened, low and steady. "Stay behind me."
The largest wolf peeled its lips back over long fangs.
Then it lunged.
"Shadow Leap!"
Theon vanished into a swirl of black mist. The wolf’s jaws snapped shut on nothing but empty snow. A heartbeat later Theon reappeared at its side and swung his shadow sword in one clean arc.
The blade cut across the wolf’s ribs, and black energy hissed where it touched the beast’s icy fur. The wolf let out a pained howl that echoed through the trees.
So shadow attacks cut deeper here. Good. He would remember that.
Another wolf came at him from the left, teeth bared.
Theon threw out his hand. "Shadow Strike!"
Three daggers of black mana shot forward, striking true. One buried itself in the wolf’s eye, and the beast dropped without another sound.
The rest of the pack surged forward together, a wall of teeth and frost.
Fen exploded into motion, his white shape becoming a blur across the snow. He slammed into two wolves at once, sending both crashing sideways through the trees in a shower of splintered bark and flying snow.
Lyra pressed her back against a rock, watching with wide eyes, her heart hammering so hard it hurt.
Theon leapt again, vanishing and reappearing above another wolf, driving his blade straight down through its neck. It fell instantly.
But another wolf was already behind him, closing the gap he had left open.
Claws raked across his shoulder, tearing through cloth and skin. Pain flared bright and hot, and Theon staggered forward, blood spilling into the snow beneath him.
"Theon!" Lyra cried out, starting toward him.
"I’m fine!" he shouted back, forcing himself upright through gritted teeth.
The wolves were closing in now, circling from every side. There were simply too many of them. Fen was holding off three at once, snarling and snapping, but even he could not guard everyone forever.
Theon forced himself to breathe. Calm. Think.
The wolves feared the shadows more than anything else. That much was clear. That was the key.
He spread both hands wide, and dark mana surged around him like smoke given weight.
"Shadow Strike!"
This time six weapons formed in the air at once. Spears, daggers, curved blades, all shooting outward in every direction like a burst of black stars. Three wolves dropped where they stood.
Fen seized the opening at once. "Blizzard Breath!"
A storm of freezing wind tore from his open jaws, throwing the remaining wolves backward off their feet.
The largest wolf tried to slip away into the trees, tail low, retreating.
Theon’s eyes hardened. "Shadow Leap."
He vanished again, appearing directly in its path, and drove the shadow sword straight through its head. The wolf froze in place for one long second. Then it collapsed into the snow and did not move again.
Silence returned to the forest, thick and heavy.
Theon stood there breathing hard, blood still dripping warm down his arm and staining the white snow red at his feet. Fen padded back to him, his own fur scratched and matted in places.
Lyra rushed over, her hands hovering near his shoulder, afraid to touch it. "You’re hurt!"
"It’s nothing," Theon said, though the wound burned fiercely with every heartbeat.
He looked around at the fallen wolves scattered across the snow. A-rank beasts, all of them, and the three of them together had barely survived the fight.
If this was still only the edge of Frostfang Forest, what could possibly be waiting deeper inside.
Fen suddenly went still, every hair on his body standing on end.
"Master."
Theon looked at him. "What is it?"
Fen stared straight ahead, his voice tight and low.
"We’ve reached our destination."
Theon turned to look where Fen was staring at.
The trees simply ended. Beyond them stretched another forest entirely, one that felt older, darker, wrong in a way he could not explain. The snow there lay untouched, without a single mark or footprint. The air pressing out from it felt heavier against his skin, colder somehow than the snow around them, and impossibly old. No sound came from within it. Not even the wind dared to move there.
Lyra slowly lifted her hand and pointed. "There."
Theon followed her gaze.
At the very edge of the darkness stood a dead tree, its bark long since turned black, its branches twisted like broken fingers reaching for the sky. On the highest branch sat a single black raven, its eyes glowing faintly in the thin moonlight, watching them without blinking.
It stared directly at Theon
Then it spread its wings and flew straight into the darkness of the forest beyond, vanishing between the black trunks as though the shadows themselves had swallowed it.
Fen took a slow step back, his voice tense.
"Master. We are no longer in Frostfang Forest."
Theon stared ahead into the endless dark, and a chill crawled slowly down his spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold night air. He took a long, slow breath to steady himself.
Then he stepped forward.
"Then we’ve already crossed the border."
Behind them lay Frostfang Forest, with its wolves and its snow and its familiar cold.
Ahead of them waited the Ancient Forest, silent and endless and utterly unknown.
The black raven had disappeared somewhere inside it, but Theon knew it was still watching. Somewhere in that darkness the escaped man was waiting for them too, patient as the trees themselves.
And for the first time since arriving in this world, Theon felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold at all.