Cathra tears into the leathery jerky with her teeth, working it methodically with her tongue to suck up as much flavor from it as possible. She swallows, contemplates another bite before wrapping up the rest to save for later. Along the narrow tunnel walls, she hears the echoes of a deep bone-shaking rumbling, like a dragon breathing down across the mountainside.

Since she escaped from the yaojin’s village, a storm has been following her all the way to the Dragonpsines, picking up speed and power every day until it seems that even the goddesses are trying to keep her from going deeper in.

Cathra hunches down closer to the fire. The mountain snores again.

It’s telling me to go no further.

She feeds the last of her twigs into the small campfire, watching as the embers sputter and glow brighter.

I really should listen.

Flames devour the sticks quickly. Before long, what little heat there is dies.

“I hate the cold,” Cathra mumbles, huddling deeper into her nest of furs. “I hate these tunnels. I hate these mountains. I hate the north.”

“Well, please don’t let me keep you from turning back.”

Huddled in the corner of their little camp, the yaojin huffs indignantly. “I can't work my mind around why you insist on going where you are, but there’s nothing left of that castle, friend.”

Cathra ignores the beastly creature. It may look human, handsome even, but she knows better than to let down her guard against a yaojin with a spike on the end of his tail capable of puncturing steel.

Her memory of being taken is still unclear, but after so many days of combing over the details, Cathra has mostly pieced together the events since being ambushed on the Bladed Road. After burning the barbarians, Kyros had left her under the carriage while he went away to… do something. Then, before Cathra knew what was going on, she was being dragged through a portal by two yaojin, one male and the other female.

And with too many tails between them.

Cathra glances over at the tied-up yaojin to make sure the creature hasn’t moved. Propped up against the tunnel wall on the outskirts of the campfire, the creature stares back at her with yellow glowing eyes.

“You look cold,” the creature says with a faint smile. “Want me to warm you? I’m good at that.” Though a gap in the chains, the creature wiggles its segmented tail. Even though Cathra has wrapped up the pointed end of the appendage, she can still see the shape of the curved stinger through the rags.

“Tell you what, if I ever need to make a fishing hook, I'll go to you."

“Well,” says the yaojin. “At least there's a possibility.”

“You have no shame, do you?”

“None at all,” the creature says with a grin. "But do you know what I do have? Cold feet."

Cathra turns to face the fire, just tiny embers glowing along the ashen sticks now. She hears ruffling as the yaojin struggles against the steel-linked chains.

“No, really. I can’t feel my toes. Look.”

“You can still walk without them,” Cathra says, keeping her eyes averted from the creature’s wriggling toes. “If not, you can crawl. If you can’t do that, I’ll drag you the rest of the way.”

“That’s a lot of work just to find deserted ruins.”

Cathra doesn’t answer that. She doesn’t want the yaojin to know why she’s going to Castle Ice, mostly because she isn’t sure herself.

It started almost as soon as she burst out of the spider-yaojin’s cocoon. Cathra found herself in a dark basement inside a rundown cottage. She didn’t know how many days had gone past then, but she knew one thing immediately: That she was going to kill whoever was guilty of putting her there.

Dizzy from the venom and on the verge of starvation, it took everything Cathra had within her to cut her way out from that village. The spider monsters were simple to kill. The two yaojins living in the village were another matter entirely. Cathra didn't have Frostbane with her anymore then, but she still had her wits and years of fighting strategy honed through battle and training. She eventually slew the spider-yaojin with a well-aimed dagger through the skull, but when she went to deal the finishing blow to the scorpion-yaojin, that was when she felt it. An undeniable, primal need to return home.

But not to Kesrock. No. It was somewhere much colder. She needed to go back to her father’s kingdom, to his castle.

My castle, if I hadn’t left.

The last of the embers die, despite Cathra’s valiant efforts. There just isn't enough things to burn in these wet, forsaken tunnels. Cathra curses out loud as the cave is plunged into darkness. She can feel her senses sharpening, showing her a world hidden from view. She feels the still air flowing through the underground network of tunnels, hears the soft fluttering of bats’ wings further into the mountain, and the voice of her captive.

“You don't even know my name, do you?”

“Fiends deserve no other titles.” Letting out a tired sigh, Cathra leans against the cool wall. They’ve been traveling for two days now but she can’t really be sure. Her mind is still foggy from being pumped full of spider venom, making everything seem surreal. The fuzziness has also dulled some other feelings, like the warmth she’s started to feel towards Kyros.

I wonder where he is now. Is he looking for me? Or has he given up and gone to the Battlefront alone?

Cathra doesn't think the latter is likely. Sure, the young knight is hardly reliable in anything other than drawing and being slightly awkward, but Cathra has always felt protective towards him like an older sister might. Since leaving Kesrock though, those feelings have changed. Maybe it was on account of how he tried so hard to protect her, or how he never once questioned her on the truth of the accusations leveled towards her. But before she knew it, Cathra had found herself having other… less sisterly thoughts about the young man.

“Ae’ran.”

Cathra cracks open one eye. It's still just as dark so she can't see squat. “What?”

“If we’re going to be traveling together for any longer,” says the yaojin, his smooth voice echoing in the dark, “we should at least call each other by something other than Fiend and Friend, though I admit it makes us sound like quite the comedic duo.”

Cathra grunts in reply. She closes her eyes again. Sleep is going to be difficult. It’s too cold. Even through miles of snow and rock, the chill stabs past cloth and fur alike. Cathra wraps her wolf-pelt tighter around her shoulders. She's lucky to have chanced upon a wild wolf resting in the mouth of the underground tunnels. The beast was thin and half-starved, but its pelt was large enough to wrap wholly around her.

When she was skinning it though, Cathra couldn’t help but miss the snow-tiger pelt she once had back in the castle that is apparently in ruins now.

Why did I even choose to leave? Had I known I’d be coming back one day, maybe I wouldn’t have.

Cathra must've fallen asleep sometime after having that thought, because she's suddenly disturbed by something pressing into her left shoulder. Her eyes snap open. It’s pitch black. Bloody hell. She turns her head, her cheek brushing against hair.

The yaojin.

Cathra springs off the floor and pulls out the glow stone in her pocket. Once exposed to the air, the stone erupts into light, bathing the cavern in a bright blue glow.

Ae’ran is sitting in the spot where Cathra was. He's still bound in chains and his wicked tail seems to still be secured. The yaojin has his head turned away from Cathra. “Turn that thing off,” he cries out. “Goddesses, I can feel my eyelids melting!”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cathra demands. She silently reproves herself of falling asleep so quickly. She should’ve made sure the yaojin was secured like she’d been doing since leaving the village. But it doesn’t look like the yaojin is trying to hurt her. In fact, it looks like he’s…

“Were you trying to touch me?”

Ae’ran speaks with his eyes squeezed shut. “I told you I was cold.”

“That’s none of my concern.”

"Sure, sure. Can you snuff the light first? Please?"

Despite caution telling her not to, Cathra tosses the stone far down the tunnel. The light fades until it’s just a visible spot.

"Thank you," Ae'ran sighs. "It felt like I was talking to the cursed sun right now."

Cathra found the bag of stones by a fork in the tunnels. It seems someone else came through here before her, but she can't tell who or how long ago. Looking at Ae'ran's sheepish smile, she almost wants to explain that once activated, the only way to turn off a human-made glow stone is to destroy it or wait for it to expire naturally. But that feels like she’s trying to make the yaojin feel better, which is a dangerously foolish thing to want.

"It's going to hurt a lot more than that if you continue pushing your luck," she warns, going to pick up her wolf-pelt that had fallen off while she was jumping away. To her dismay, Cathra finds the skin cold to the touch, having soaked up the dampness from the ground already. Still, she shrugs it on without giving away how much it hurts to do so.

“I hate the cold too,” Ae’ran says empathetically. “Maybe even more than you.”

“If you hate it so much then why'd you choose the north as your dwelling place?” Cathra asks. "Seems pretty self-harming."

Ae'ran shrugs and looks away, his lips pressed together tight.

“You know what, I don't really care.” Cathra shivers as she looks around their sad little camp. She decides that sleep will be impossible after all, and goes to pack up. Her possessions consist of a bag of leathery meat and a few glow stones tied to the end of a spear that's been snapped in half. Once she's done, she turns back to Ae'ran. The yaojin has even less to pack.

“We’re going.”

“Home?”

“Yes but not yours.”

Ae’ran puffs out his chest and exhales in a comically exaggerated sigh. "You're wasting your time," he says. "Ae'ru said there's nothing left of the castle."

Cathra hefts her possessions over her shoulder. "Well I guess we should ask her to be sure - oh wait we can't because I killed her!"

Ae'ran gets up off the ground, no small feat without the use of his arms. He smiles at Cathra confidently. “Ae’ru can’t die,” he says. “Not as long as she has enough spiders and foolish men to fall into her trap. She’ll come for you in time. Then you'll be the one in chains, following me back down the mountain."

Cathra drops her things, closes the distance to Ae’ran in two strides, and grabs onto the front of his short-sleeved shirt.

“Don’t lie to me,” she demands. “No creature can come back from the dead. No creature but…” Her throat closes up. She remembers the Blood Devil, remembers those red eyes that held so much chaos in them it was like hell itself was looking out of that tiny heart-shaped face.

Ae’ran's smile turns sour. “I don’t make the rules, friend. I am bound by them as much as you are.”

Cathra lets go but she doesn’t break from the yaojin’s gaze. “No more lies,” she warns darkly. “Don’t forget, a mute fiend can lead just as well as any.”

“Debatable,” says Ae’ran. “But I understand. Let me make water first and then we’ll go. Okay?”

Cathra lets the yaojin do his business in peace.

I don’t need to see something like that, she tells herself, trying not to imagine if down there, a yaojin is the same as a human. That’s all there is. It has nothing to do with deserving privacy.

Cathra repeats this line of thought for so long that for a good while after they set out again, she believes it.

The bag of glow stones is nearly empty when Ae’ran points to the darkness in front of them and says,

“I see something.”

“Is it... the entrance?” Cathra asks, sounding exhausted despite herself. “Have we found it?”

“First,” says Ae’ran without turning. “I am the one doing the finding. You’re just following. And second, no. This looks like something else. Something… strange.” He starts up again, striding into the darkness on his long legs.

“Hey wait, slow down, will you?” Cathra tosses the dim stone aside and takes out another. Light casts shadows across thin stalactites and dripping lines of water.

A few feet away near the right wall, Ae’ran is crouched over the blackened remains of a humanoid creature. Cathra approaches slowly.

"What is this?"

The fiend is right. The dead creature is of a race Cathra has never seen before. She crouches down next to Ae'ran for a better look, too disturbed to care about how close she physically is to him. Carefully, she reaches out to poke at the prone body lying on the ground.

“RAWR!”

Cathra leaps back from the corpse, her dagger flashing from her hip. She trips on a rock and titters, nearly losing her weapon.

Ae’ran falls back, laughing. “I got you so good!”

It takes Cathra a good two seconds to calm her nerves enough to point her dagger at the yaojin. “Do you want me to cut your tongue out?”

“I wish,” Ae’ran sucks in a dig breath so he can keep laughing, “you could’ve seen yourself just then.”

Cathra thinks about which finger on the yaojin’s hands she's going to cut off first, when Ae'ran's laughter dies down. The yaojin is almost panting as he flashes Cathra a sweet smile. “Oh, don’t be such a spoiled child,” he says. “You need to learn to make fun of life sometime.”

“You have no idea what my life is like,” Cathra says. She goes back to examine the corpse, keeping her dagger unsheathed in the direction of the yaojin in case he tries something like that again.

“I actually have a rather solid theory,” Ae’ran says, leaning back to watch her with an inquisitive expression. “Wanna hear it?"

"No," Cathra says firmly. The body on the ground is humanoid in shape but has only a resemblance to one. It isn’t any other monster she recognizes either. The creature lies in a circle of black liquid, too dark to be blood, and the flesh on its body has peeled away to show a skeleton made of a grey metallic substance, almost like corroded steel. Possessing four limbs each as long as the last, the creature looks to have died while fighting, though the time of death is difficult to tell in a place so cold.

“What could have killed this thing,” Cathra wonders out loud, using her dagger to turn the creature’s face. It is a disturbing sight. The creature has eyes and a nose and a mouth which, looked at individually seems human. But seen together, Cathra is given the feeling that the maker - be it the goddesses or some other hellish force - has messed up the proportions somehow, ending up with a mismatched combination that cannot be found occurring naturally. The right cheek has been sliced away, showing a winding nest of tubes where muscle should be.

“Humans, obviously.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The wounds on the back of its head,” Ae’ran says, pointing with his chin. “Whatever this creature was, it fell from a blow to the back of the head.” He turns his amber eyes at Cathra. “Man is the only creature to strike in such a cowardly fashion.”

Cathra stands. “You two weren’t any better,” she reminds him. “Stealing people off the road to use for your own disgusting purposes. Anyway, you’re right about one thing. There’s more than one blade down here we need to watch out for.” She starts walking away and makes it three paces before turning back to Ae’ran, who is looking at her. "What?"

The yaojin shakes his head. "Forget it." He strides past Cathra into the darkness.

Cathra watches Ae’ran’s back as they walk silently into the dark. A small braid of hair swings between his shoulder blades like a little pendulum. The ends of the braid are starting to fray, but Cathra is sure her's is worse. The few times she’s reached back to touch her own braid, it feels like brushing against rope.

I can’t imagine I smell very good either.

Her glow stone begins to dim, leaving just one more. Cathra pitches the dying rock out in front of them, as she’s done with the other ones. And just as before, she hopes it will hit against something, a wall or a gate, anything that may signal their arrival into the secret entrance to Castle Ice. The light dies away as the stone sails out of the view.

I really should’ve paid more attention to Father’s maps.

A soft ping echoes through the tunnel. Cathra stops, her hand paused around her last stone.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hmm,” answers Ae’ran. “I think you hit a wall.”

“No, no,” Cathra whispers, suddenly fearful. She reaches out to touch Ae’ran’s back. She misjudged and touches a shoulder. The skin is warm, the muscles underneath hard. “Don’t move,” she says, ignoring the twinge in her belly. “Get down and keep quiet.” She feels Ae'ran lower to a crouch, and does the same.

“You’re not going to tell me you used the last of the sun stones, are you?”

“Keep quiet and listen.”

The darkness breathes, paining Cathra a picture of the tunnel. Three feet wide on either side of them, there isn’t enough space between the icy walls to fight. Cathra is certain that whatever she hit is alive, and looking this way.

But does it see us?

Sounds take shape. Something scrapes against stone, growing closer as whatever creature is in front of them lumbers towards them. Its footsteps are heavy as if it’s dragging its feet.

There's no way around.

Inside her bag, Cathra’s fingers clutch the last glow stone tightly.

No way past but through.

The creature is close now, its voice moaning through the dark. Cathra’s skin crawls from the sound. In front of her, she feels Ae’ran stiffen. "Hey, friend? I think we're not alone."

No time to think.

Cathra steps onto Ae’ran’s back and leaps forth, drawing her dagger and stone. White blue light floods the tunnel, bouncing off the walls like an energy blast. Blinded, Cathra crashes into the creature, dagger pushing into its chest. She topples down with the creature thrashing beneath her, bellowing an ungodly scream that pierces her eardrums. Cathra keeps on top the monster, both hands pressed on the dagger's hilt. The creature's roar shakes rocks from the tunnel ceiling. Icicles crash down around them. From the corner of her vision, Cathra spots a mighty arm sweeping across. She’s thrown off like a leaf. She rolls to the floor and springs up before the creature can.

The creature is a man, with ashen skin and eyes that are lost within their sunken sockets.

It’s the same kind of creature Cathra saw earlier. But alive, if this thing can be called to be among the living, it is even more terrifying. The creature steps towards her on drunken legs, the dagger sticking out from its blackened, fleshless chest. When it opens its mouth, all of its teeth are gone.

Cathra ducks under the creature's reach and kicks at its legs. The creature collapses in a heap of gangly limbs. Cathra leaps onto it, yanking the dagger from its chest and stabbing into the monster's throat. Flesh part with a sickening rip but no blood comes. Even when Cathra pulls out the dagger to stab again, the creature does not bleed.

With one final death throe, the creature's head rows and a black withered tongue lolls out of its slackened jaws.

Cathra lets out a shaky breath.

“There’s more, friend!”

She looks down the tunnel. Emerging from the darkness are many more pairs of eyes, their white milky pupils like stars in the sky, their voices moaning as one.

“Bloody hell.” Cathra yanks her dagger out from the dead corpse beneath her. "Ae'ran?"

"Yea?"

"If I die, don't bother searching me. I never brought the key for your chains."

"Well," Ae'ran laughs. "Aren't you the best."

Cathra charges towards the lumbering creatures, tackling the first to the ground and sticking it through the eye. She knows she may die in this tunnel so far away from everything she’s known and everyone she's loved. Her mind seems to think so too. As she leaps away from a grasping hand and kicks at another, memories of her life race in front of her.

If I could start over, would I still leave my home, my chambers, with those dolls sitting on the windowsill waiting for my return?

A hand reaches through the chaos, tangling in Cathra's pelt. She pulls the knot loose and shrugs out of it, but another hand has her by the hair. Cathra's scalp burns as she's yanked sideways. She crashes into the wall then is pulled into the chest of one of the monsters. The world spins. Cathra can feel the creature's ribs poking into her back but for a second she's too dizzy to know what to do.

"Let go of her!"

A long shape slips between two bodies as Ae'ran flies past. The yaojin shoulders into the creature holding Cathra, sending them all falling.

The impact loosens one of the icicles on the ceiling, and it's only because Cathra is on her back that she sees it starting to fall. She twists from the creature's grasp, just enough for the icicle to fall down where her head has just been.

The creature slackens its hold just enough for Cathra to slip away.

"We need to retreat!"

Cathra feels something shoving her. It's Ae'ran. The yaojin is by her side, desperately trying to grab her up without using his arms because those are still bound behind his back.

"Let's go!"

"A-alright," Cathra says. "Yea." Her head is starting to clear and she sees just how deep in trouble they both are. "Yea." They both turn but the other way is blocked. More humanoid monsters have appeared, their withered bodies sliding like twisted shadows along the ground.

"Oh no," says Ae'ran, backing into Cathra. "Oh this is not good."

Without warning, the tunnel ceiling explodes, knocking Cathra and Ae'ran down in a gust of frigid wind. A spear crashes down and with a flash of blue light, a wall of ice blocks off the tunnel, cutting off the approaching monsters.

A rope ladder tumbles down from the hole. A woman's voice echoes,

“Climb! Or else die!”

Without waiting for an explanation, Cathra grabs onto the first rung and pulls herself up. But then she remembers Ae'ran. The yaojin is on the ground, staring at the rope in despair.

Cathra jumps down and grabs the yaojin by his chains. “Hold onto me!” she shouts, hauling the astounded yaojin under one arm.

"You're crazy!" he shouts. "Put me down!"

The sound of splitting ice resounds through the tunnel. The humanoid monsters have gotten to the wall and are throwing themselves against it.

“I'm too heavy for you!”

"Shut up and hold on!" Cathra yells, straining to pull them both up the ladder. Holding onto Ae'ran with one arm, she uses the other to climb. It is excruciating. Her body feels like it's on fire. Sweat pours down her face. She climbs.

One rung. Two. Breathe. Breathe.

The wall collapses. Shards of ice clatter everywhere. A man's face appears in the hole at the top of the ladder, one hand out to take Cathra's.

Four. Breathe. Five.

The monsters stream through, stumbling towards Cathra with their arms out in front of them.

Ae'ran is screaming now. Something about climbing faster. Cathra ignores him.

Six. Seven.

Cathra feels her ankle snag. One of the monsters has caught her.

No.

She feels herself being dragged down.

No. I'm too late.

Cathra's foot slips off the rung and she starts to fall. The face at the top watches, emotionless.

I'm going to die.

With one last burst of strength, Cathra reels back her body and throws with everything she's got, launching Ae'ran from her. As he passes her, Cathra glimpses the yaojin's shocked face, and then he's gone.

Cathra falls from the ladder, down towards the waiting arms of the monsters. She closes her eyes.

"I hate the north."

A silvery tail strikes down, wraps around her waist. Cathra gasps in surprise, then in aghast as the wind whooshes past her ears. An incredible strength pulls her up, through the hole, and then she's flying, falling, and landing with a bone-shattering crash onto a stack of potatoes, spilling them all over the ground along with the conscious thoughts inside her head.

“I got you!”

From somewhere to the side, Cathra hears Ae’ran's exultant shouts. “I almost missed, you know! Oh, goddesses, I thought you were gone for good, friend, but by Sharn-” The yaojin's voice is cut off by a sudden gasp, though Cathra is too winded to wonder why.

“Not... so loud,” she mumbles, sitting up and scrunching her fingers into her temples. “There are more headache-friendly ways to celebrate.” Her lungs are aching and she’s sore all over, but nothing seems to be broken.

She opens her eyes to look around. "And didn't I tell you not to call me..." She trails off when she sees that they are surrounded by a circle of grey-cloaked men pointing spears at them. The men's formation is sloppy and their faces are devoid of any emotions, but the scene is too familiar it immediately angers Cathra. She shoves the closest spear away and demands, “Who are you lot? Where are we? What were those things down there?”

No one answers her.

The room is large but too dark to make out any details. Few torches light the bricked interiors, and from the iron-barred cells lining the walls, Cathra guesses they’ve just climbed into a dungeon.

Then as if hearing an invisible order, the men move away as one. Through the gap, a woman steps through holding a great sword the size of a person.

“I’ll be the one to ask questions,” she says, her accent thick with the north. Cathra watches as the woman unwraps the scarf around her neck to show piercing blue eyes from within a dark face. Her hair is white as bone and straight as rain, and when she crouches down in front of Cathra, a small smile creases the corners of her dry, thin lips. “And I think there’ll be a lot to ask. Isn’t there, Captain Cathra Stelias?”