Under the pale dome of Rall's magic, time passed slower than usual. The mage spent his time in deep meditation, speeding up the recovery of his energy for the long journey to come. The snow elves avoided his tent, as he expected, with two exceptions. One was Sharyah, who had returned to her elven appearance and reprised her part as a guest from the eastern tribes but often visited the mage to bring him food and water. The other was the little girl. She would sneak into Rall's temporary dwelling and silently sit beside him as he meditated. At some point, the light mage noticed he did not know the girl's name. But there was something beautiful about their quietness, so he never dared disrupt it.

The little girl's vivid curiosity was not the only reason for her frequent visits. The atmosphere in the village had grown heavy. The snow elves, unused to life beneath the Lighthouse, often stared at the Fog flowing peacefully outside. One time an old lady even tried to exit the dome, seeking the chance for cleansing that she once thought lost forever. The hunters managed to stop her in the nick of time, but it was clear others would try.

There were indeed other attempts, but fortunately, no victims. The dawn of the third day marked the end of the elves' silent descent into madness. It was then that the Fog finally retreated.

The white Lighthouse followed, clearing the view of a beautiful pink-hued sky. When the hunters went in to check on the light mage, he and Sharyah had already disappeared from the village. Some would later remember them like a mirage, others like a passing nightmare.

"Are you sure about leaving the girl there? They might try to sacrifice her to the Fog again..." Tui said in a concerned voice.

"Where we are going is no place for a child. Plus, I have a feeling that we'll meet her again, someday," Rall replied, a tranquil smile on his face.

***

"I used to read a lot about Geography, and the books always described the Tundra as a cold, desolate expanse of white. As accurate as that description might be, I honestly expected a lot more snow," Rall said, looking down at the dry soil at his feet.

"A common misconception," Sharyah replied. "Have you ever heard of a man named Garbuncle Holl?" She suddenly asked.

"I..." he took a second to search in his memory. "No, I don't think so."

"'Not surprising. It was the spring of year 831 since the fall of Theorzea. Bartholomew Gothric I, the founding father of the Alcian Kingdom, ordered a series of surveys around the borders of his newly founded nation, planning to commission an accurate, up-to-date map of his lands. Garbuncle was a barely decently talented painter who took part in a large mission through the Red Peaks and into the depths of the Northern Tundra. The story goes that misfortune had struck that expedition since its first steps, and, several mysterious incidents later, the chief in charge called it off halfway. They never reached the Tundra, and only half of them ever returned."

"As much of a lover of History as I am, I don't understand where you are going with this."

"You see, Garbuncle never returned, but one of his paintings did. An absolute masterpiece, a beautiful landscape of the Tundra seen from the Red Peaks. The white expanse in all its desolate beauty. From then on, news in the Kingdom became of this vast and empty plain of snow. It simply made sense."

"Haven't there been other expeditions since? Wouldn't the idea of an ever-snowy land disappear after a while?" Rall asked.

She laughed at that. "My boy, an idea can be harder to kill than an ancient dragon. 'The Tundra is the cold, northernmost region of the Continent. If it's always white, it must be snow! There's no reason to debate it!'"

She stopped her stride, then slowly bent down to the ground, making sure to give Rall a good view of her curves. The mage turned around, blushing slightly in embarrassment. After successfully teasing her young companion, the demoness turned to the ground and swept a small pile of white dust with her index finger. Then she straightened up and pointed at him with the same finger. "Have a taste."

Rall looked at the finger for a second, then back at her. "I am not licking your finger," he said, his face still red.

She grinned, retracting her hand. "Boring!"

"Bitch," Tui said, clearly annoyed by the demon's antics.

"Tolerate her for now. We need all the help we can get. You said it yourself," Rall answered telepathically.

"I'm starting to regret those words..."

Rall felt a new kind of emotion coming from his bonded, but he could not recognize it, so he shrugged his shoulders and knelt to take a pinch of dust for himself. When he finally tasted it, his eyes opened in realization.

"Salt."

"Precisely," Sharyah responded.

He looked incredulously at his surroundings. "This is all salt? Why is there so much salt in the Tundra?"

"What do you think?" She asked.

"Hmm..." Rall's hand unconsciously moved to his chin as he fell deep in thought. Many theories appeared and disappeared in his mind, but none fit perfectly to the Tundra's condition. Was magic involved, somehow? Was there even a spell capable of having such a profound effect on the environment? Not to say anything about a caster able to use such magic. Would someone like that ever be forgotten?

"I'll give you a hint. A thousand years ago, the Tundra did not exist."

"What are you talking about?" His voice rose in further astonishment. "We have stories of the snow elves from centuries ago. Unless the Tundra appeared out of nothing, there is no way..." he saw the demoness smile, a feeble glint of crimson in her eyes. "There's no way, right?"

"Not for a mortal. But for Them, it's another story," Sharyah said, as her gaze rose to the clear blue sky. The winter sun shone brightly on her face, taking away Rall's breath for an instant. He found her a lot more beautiful when she wasn't trying. Again, he felt that strange unknown emotion grow silently within Tui.

"Once, the worshippers of the self-proclaimed Goddess were preparing the ritual to conjure the Fog. Sensing the arrival of the spell, one of Them took a step beyond the silver gate," she said, accompanying her narration with a stop on the ground, raising a small plum of dust around her feet. "The world shook, the Continent morphed. Mountains rose, and others fell. And what was once part of the ocean's floor became the Tundra. Ignorant historians later dismissed the earthquake, marking it as the first signs of the Fog's appearance."

"So the Tundra was... an aftereffect? The ripple of a simple step?"

"Yes. But as I told you before, coincidences are just a mortal's illusion. Fate has plans for these lands. Perhaps, we are yet too early to witness them," she concluded.

The two stood silent for a moment, basking in the cold northern sunlight. "Sharyah, I want the truth. Will They destroy this world if I succeed?"

Her smile remained, but her gaze held a hint of sorrow that Rall had never noticed. "Do you remember when we first met, years ago? I asked you about the nature of good and evil. Do you think you could answer now?"

Rall shook his head, then resumed his steps towards the Peaks. "I see you won't answer my question," he said. "I understand."

Sharyah stood still, watching the mage's back move further away. As the distance between them grew, a dark cloud covered the Sun. Her crimson eyes shone brightly, and dark blood-colored energy formed around her right hand. However, like the passing cloud over their heads, so did her arts vanish as they came. Her fist clenched, she forcefully returned to her elegant bearing. It was yet too early. Soon, the time would come.

***

Two strangers sat around a fire, under the light of the stars at the edge of the world. Rall and Sharyah hadn't spoken for the last week, only communicating to share practical information. The Red Peaks were close. They could almost touch the jagged form of the mountains growing from the reddish ground like the spikes on a gladiator's armor. And yet, they still remained silent, letting the crackling of the bonfire do all the talking.

"The provisions we stole from the village will last you another two or three days at maximum," Sharyah said to break the silence. "As for the water, you haven't drunk more than a sip in the last few days. How are you still on your feet?"

Rall turned towards her, still chewing away at the roasted rodent in his hands, then lazily diverted his eyes again. "Let's keep our eyes open for prey, starting tomorrow."

"No, seriously. Are you even hu--" A thundering roar shook the air, abruptly interrupting Sharyah's words. The two jumped on their feet and turned southward towards the origin of the cry. The rustling noise of hundreds of feet dashing through the dusty plains steadily rose. Many shadows appeared in the distance, backed by the imposing presence of the sharp Peaks.

"Tui, if you may," Rall said under his breath.

"Sure," she murmured back.

The mermaid's ghostly figure floated out of his body, then another few meters up until she could not go any further. She moved her hands together in front of her chest and closed her eyes. Sparks of power surrounded her ethereal body, condensing her energy where her heart once was. When she finally let go of her arms, a cold, blinding light flashed to illuminate a large portion of the surrounding Tundra.

Another roar accompanied the dazzling shine. When the light finally caught the distant shadows, Rall noticed forty or so slick canine bodies dashing towards the camp with dangerous silver-hued fangs and clean white mantles. Strangely enough, many of them had pups hanging by the back of the neck from their jaws. Why would they bring their puppies to a hunt?

"Tundran wolves," said Sharyah. "They only leave their underground dens to hunt, and when they do, they always stalk their prey until the last moment. Why is an apex predator running so desperately?"

Another roar made the air tremble.

"They are running away from something," Rall said. As he sensed the incoming danger, white magic crackled around his hands. This time, he would not have a Lighthouse to maintain. With Tui fighting beside him, he was not scared of anything. Well, almost anything.

One last shadow appeared behind the pack, this one larger, faster, stronger. And yet, it never came into view, vanished like a bad dream in a night of terror. Or so it seemed.

The alpha of the wolf pack cried as three large wounds suddenly appeared on its back. The other wolves halted their run and quickly spread around their chief, growling towards him in an intimidation attempt born out of fear. The alpha whimpered, collapsing on the salty ground as the air above him seemed to change color. Where once was nothing, two large black paws appeared to push the wolf to the ground, their large claws eating onto their prey's skin like butter. The rest of a gigantic feline body slowly took form.

It was akin to a giant panther, black like the night with two pairs of astute eyes and two large fangs protruding from its wide maw. Behind the beast was a slim, hairless tail, long twice the feline's full height and ending like a glaive with a terrifyingly sharp edge. With swift movements, the creature flicked its tail like a whip, cleanly chopping the alpha's lofty head and painting the white dust with a pool of its blood. With another swipe of its tail, the feline skewered the canine's head to bring it to its mouth, devouring it in one go.

Rall's eyes followed the head's journey down the beast's throat and into its stomach. When it finally arrived, the creature's body quivered violently, growing larger, sharper, wiser. Its black mane lightened up, quickly turning perfectly white, just like a native Tundran organism.

One last deafening roar marked the end of the pack's loyalty, as all the white wolves fled as fast as their powerful legs allowed, spreading in every direction without care for a destination. Luckily for them, the beast never intended to follow them, its eyes locked on the camp and its tasty-looking, glowing inhabitants.