Since Snow Elves were on average shorter than humans, Rall had to lower his head to enter the trapdoor. A cozy dwelling welcomed him beyond, clearly not built but dug out of the stony ground of the Tundra. There was a sweet aroma, no doubt coming from a stove in the middle of the room. Inside was a soup, red and fuming like boiling magma. The open fire under the cauldron contributed to the strange warmth that permeated the homey abode, which surprised the mage since the elves did not seem affected by the cold. Did they fake their resistance, or was it just them being used to the freezing temperatures of the far North? In this instance, Rall did not care. He was more than satisfied with escaping from the oncoming storm and the icy atmosphere on the surface.

Raging winds howled noisily as one of the young bowmen closed the trapdoor behind his companion and the elder. All three looked at Rall with curious eyes, like he was the most remarkable thing to happen to them in some time. As for him, Rall was happy with the silence. It had been a while since he had been in contact with another living being, so the awkwardness did not bother him.

The woman pointed with hospitality at a pillow on the floor. Then she sat on an identical one on the opposite side of the room. Rall took the invitation and lowered himself on the red-embroidered cushion. It seemed like these people only knew white, red, and black for their clothes and interior decorations. Though it was natural, those were the colors of the Northern Tundra.

The woman put a hand on her heart and looked at her guest with a kind smile. "Name is Watuu, me is chieftain of A'Kaleera tribe."

Surprised by the basic yet understandable Alcian displayed by the elf, Rall responded with the same slight bow he had given her outside. "I am Rall. I thank chief Watuu for her hospitality," he said, talking slowly and enunciating each word with as much clarity as he could muster.

She nodded to show her understanding. "Rall is very far in our land. Why?"

"I come from somewhere more north than this," he said carefully, pointing to the general direction of the Deep North. Watuu looked astonished by his words. She turned to the two men behind her, murmuring something in a language unknown to the young mage. The two men nodded, and one of them exited the trapdoor in a hurry. The other, instead, came closer. His body language told Rall that he would attack at the first suspicious movement towards the chieftain.

"There is only the great lake north," she said after a long pause.

Rall answered with a simple nod. There was no need for other words.

"Rall," said Tui in his mind, "are you sure you should tell the truth to them?"

"There is no point in lying here," he answered telepathically. "She already sent men to follow my footsteps. And I can see it in her eyes. She will notice any attempt of deception."

Another awkward silence conquered the circular room, only broken by the occasional splashing sound from the boiling crimson soup. Suddenly, the trapdoor opened again, letting the sound of heavy rain enter the dwelling. A short cloaked figure carefully stepped in. Its steps were light on the stone pavement.

Small, soft hands moved to the soaked hood of the white cloak, revealing a puff of curly ginger hair, and under it, the face of a little girl. With her tiny ears hidden beneath her hair, only her black and red eyes revealed her as a Snow Elf. Plus, the fact that she was not trembling in the slightest.

Watuu turned to the child as she was wringing out her wet hair, and she hissed at her in that unknown language. The girl protested in that same tongue, and the old chieftain sighed in response. Rall understood that they were probably related.

The girl moved to the side of the room, took a simple wooden bowl from a pile, then moved to the cauldron. It was at that moment that she noticed Rall, who had been calmly observing the scene.

She asked something in the acute voice of a young girl, but it was nothing that the mage could understand. When he did not answer, she took the wooden ladle beside the fire, filled it with as much soup as she could, and poured it in the bowl. Then, she offered it to Rall.

"She is so cute! Look at those cheeks, I want to hug her so badly!" Said Tui in the mage's mind, which caused him to smile. Still, there was a reason he was not offered the soup in the first place.

Rall looked at Watuu, and she shook her head slightly. He understood. The color of the soup, the sweet aroma in the room. It was a soup of Laspillinae, the demonic rose that was toxic to life.

Once upon a time, an explorer from the South shipwrecked on the Northern Tundra with his crew. Naturally, they had contacts with the Snow Elves, and the story went that the explorer found love in these cold and unforgiving lands. He refused to return, so his loyal crew stuck around, repairing the ship for the time when their Captain would change his mind. Alas, they never sailed again.

Members of the crew started dying, and even the explorer fell sick. It was then that they understood. While everywhere in the Continent, the Fog had forced civilization to either build their farms in the protective range of a light mage or find food underground where the foul mist did not reach, the people of the Tundra had a more comfortable alternative available. Since the Fog had destroyed all its natural competitors, the demonic rose was able to spread like an infection through the pale land. It was attractive, and its taste delicious, thus becoming the principal source of sustenance of the tribes. Soon, however, only the Snow Elves remained. They were a race known for their resistance to poison.

Soon, it became a common misconception throughout the Continent that the elves' diet of demonic rose was the reason for the color of their eyes. Famous alchemist Roy Cornelius, known for his work on Fog-resistant crops, had once experimented with such beliefs on himself, frequently injecting himself with a homemade antidote. It was said that he had quickly become addicted to Laspillinae, refusing any other food with vehemence, and sometimes even violent bursts of rage.

"How is this girl still cute while offering poison..." muttered Tui with a sigh. Rall smiled wrily and turned to the girl, refusing her offer with a gentle wave of his hand.

And so they waited, but the silence was no more as the little girl talked and talked while eating her soup. She was an excited ball of energy, spewing the curious and joyful nonsense that children are known to produce. And yet, the eyes of Watuu and the bowman were still fixed on Rall. The warmth of ordinary domestic life, mixed in with the wariness towards a mysterious stranger, created a peculiar atmosphere that Rall had not yet experienced in his life.

"Maybe I preferred fighting in that damned cave to this awkward silence," he jokingly whispered to Tui.

"Do not joke about this," the mermaid answered with a serious tone. "You finally get a moment to breathe. You should not waste it."

"Ahhh, you are right. As usual."

The sudden opening of the trapdoor interrupted Rall's mental exchange with Tui. From the sound of it, the rain had gotten even heavier, and now thunder frequently boomed under the dark northern sky. A cold gust whistled through, yet lost against the warmth of the demonic rose soup. The bowman, whom Watuu had sent out, came down the opening. His soaked clothes revealed the chiseled physique of a warrior and a hunter, and even Rall was impressed while Tui whistled in his mind. I still have a lot of work to do, don't I?

The bowman turned back to close the door, but Rall could still hear the sounds of the storm muffled by the thick stone ceiling. Then, he moved to the old chieftain and whispered something to her. Her eyes opened wide in response, and she looked at Rall with less hostility and a lot more interest.

"My hunters follow your path. They confirm your word, guest from the sea," she pronounced with a weirdly respectful tone, almost like she felt a sense of guilt.

"I understand," he answered slowly and clearly, "and I am not offended by your mistrust."

Those words of reassurance were enough to release the slight tension in the elder's expression. Seeing this, he resumed. "I am a simple traveler, seeking shelter from the storm."

She nodded and turned to the bowmen, who had yet to relax their hostile gazes. She said something, and the two nodded. Then her attention returned to Rall.

"They accompany you to shelter and give food you can eat. Until the storm pass, you are guest of the A'Kaleera tribe."

Rall gave the chieftain a respectful bow, then got up to follow the two elves. When he did, he heard the little girl ask a question to Watuu. Rall gathered that she wanted to know who he was. As the bowmen opened the trapdoor and he was about to exit, Rall felt something tugging at his cloak. He turned around and saw the little girl smiling with a pure expression only a happy child could make. Having successfully stopped him, the girl ran to the other side of the room and picked up something from a basket made of intertwined Laspillinae stems. She returned to hand him a dried red flower, small enough to fit in her tiny hand.

"A gift from the land, she said. Our children know guests are sacred," explained chief Watuu.

Rall nodded and took the rose with a smile, and she smiled back.

"Aaaaah, I need to squeeze those cheeks..." said Tui longingly.

The mage ignored the voice inside his head and turned to follow the bowmen. He raised his hood and prepared himself for the chilly winds and the unyielding rain.

***

The sound of a crackling fireplace filled a small underground dwelling with warmth. The meat of a skinned rodent hung over the fire from its tail, producing a smell that would have made any hungry creature salivate. A heavy black cloak rested near that same fire, wholly soaked and slowly drying. Rall sat cross-legged, his hands hovering over the flame to save as much of the heat as he could from the freezing temperature of the Tundra. His upper body was bare, showing a healthy yet shivering musculature.

"I thought winter was cold in Korn... how wrong I was!" Said Rall between clenched up teeth. "Tui, I'll need your help."

"What is it?" The mermaid asked as her ethereal form slowly exited her light mage's body. Her pale white gleam fused with the fire's dancing blaze, projecting a spectacle of lights and colors over the naked walls of stone.

"There is a spell in my dad's notes," he said with his voice trembling from the cold. "I have never had the opportunity to try it since it has no combat use and requires multiple mages. However, I don't think dad ever accounted for our... circumstances."

She nodded. Some time ago, they had discovered that they could cast spells independently, as well as interfere with each other's cast. It had been a great boon during the trials while also raising many questions about light magic as they knew it. "What do I have to do?"

"Just repeat my words," he said, closing his eyes to concentrate on his power.

"Light of hope that does not waver..." he pronounced.

"Light of hope that does not waver~" she sang after him.

"...warm the hearts of your resting soldiers, for Yule has no power in the heavens..."

"...warm the hearts of your resting soldiers, for Yule has no power in the heavens~" she followed, feeling the fluctuations of magical energy within her.

"...and your call ever pierces through the winter's sky!" They declared in unison.

At first, nothing happened. Then, the fireplace's dancing became more violent, and a strange breeze rose to circle around Tui. Suddenly every surface in the dwelling shone like day, and for the narrowest of moments, Rall stopped shivering. Then it all stopped as if the spell was never cast in the first place.

Rall looked at his steady hands as the cold resumed biting his body and the room became dark.

"Well, it's already a miracle that something happened," said Tui looking around at the fading effects of their spell.

And yet, Rall was smiling while tears streaked down his face.

"Hey, Rall, is everything alright?" Her tone turned motherly as she felt her companion's emotions going in disarray.

"I don't know," he said, failing to keep his voice from cracking. "It felt like someone was hugging me, a warm embrace. It's like I found something I never knew I needed. Something I longed for yet never knew existed."

"Rall..."

"It's ok," he said, hurriedly wiping his tears with his scarred forearm. "I should not cry for something like this. I am not a child anymore."

"So what if you are not a child? Cry if you want to cry. Smile if you want to smile. Isn't that what you want? Freedom!"

His head lowered, a hand over his reddened emerald eyes. "You are right... milady," he said as his hand moved to reveal a cheeky grin. His eyes were still glossy, and Tui knew that those emotions were real. Still, she would not force him to explore them. For now.

"Always at your service, milord," she said, with a respectful nod of her head.

They paused for a moment, then broke into laughter. "What would I do without you?" Said Rall as he got up to get the roasted meat from the fire.

"Oh, you would be fine. Just... slightly more miserable," she joked. "By the way, what was the name of that spell? I have never heard that incantation."

Rall turned to look at the fire before taking a bite of the roasted rodent in his hand. "I don't know. It was the only one without a name..."

***

And so, the night passed on the storm-ravaged land, giving way to the first lights of the morning. Or so it should have. Alas, while the downpour had stopped, something else now blotted out the sky.

Someone banged on the trapdoor of Rall's shelter, and he opened it up still half-asleep. It was one of the bowmen from the day before. Now that his clothes were dry, he looked even more imposing. With an unmoved expression, he pronounced one word, probably the only word he knew in Alcian.

"Fog."