After a long drive through the night, Orel finally saw the break of dawn on the horizon. The shadows receded, and the snow sparkled white. It was not that which got Orel's attention, however. In front of them, the sunshine broke into a rainbow, blinding them.

"Right, we're here." Norman squinted his eyes.

"What is that?"

"The Satteenkaar bridge." Norman smiled.

The shine faded as the car drove closer, revealing a sparkling ice bridge going over a small yet long ravine. Orel stuck to the window, resisting its coldness.

The crystal clear ice was radiant and sparkling like glass, save for the grooves helping the cars stick to the road. The sides had carvings of waves and stars, and at the ends were statues of foxes sitting atop pillars. Though playful creatures, these foxes merely sat still with an intense stare between their slit eyes. It did not stop Orel's eyes from glistening with amazement.

"Can we stop by it?" He asked.

"You want pictures? Sure." Norman turned to the side.

Orel jumped out of the car and ran to the side of the ravine. He wanted to take a good sideway picture of the bridge.

"Wait, Orel!" Norman yelled.

Orel could barely turn as the snow under his legs gave out. He slumped toward the edge. Norman ran to take hold, yet his hand could not reach him. The last thing Orel saw was Norman's gasping face growing smaller as he fell into the concealed crevasse.

"Orel!" Norman's yells echoed down.

Rolling uncontrollably, Orel shielded his head as he fell. His descent was fast, but thankfully not a free fall. At the very bottom, he fell into a stream of flowing water. It was ice cold, and Orel could barely move with the cold shock. Thankfully, the river was narrow, and Orel could swim ashore. He pulled himself onto the gravel, gasping for breath and shivering relentlessly. He looked around and saw only the stream continuing far in each direction. While a regular person would have traveled downstream, Orel felt the instinct to go upstream. Words from his uncle loosely echoed in his mind.

"Now, Orel, you might think Talen is cold, but you should see where Emil and I got stuck. A whole continent in ice." Deras explained over the fireplace.

"Wow." Orel awed.

"Just the luck would have it; we fell through some snow to a ravine. We thought we would freeze to death, but then we realized something. How can there be water under all this ice and snow?"

"How?"

"The rule is: Where there's water-"

"There's some warmth," Orel said as he reached it.

Although not that common, Alanland had its share of hotspots in its northern parts, though only the warmest ones could emerge from the snow. Luck would have it; there was one that had carved itself a hole in the ice, forming a natural cave. A relieved smile turned on Orel's face as he dropped around the steaming water. In his last moments of consciousness, where the rushing sound of water echoed in his mind, Orel saw a tall figure sneak toward him.

Orel woke up to the crackling sound of a fire. His eyes opened to see his outer layers drying on makeshift racks made of driftwood as a ragged figure huddled close to the fire. He glanced at Orel with his gleaming orange eyes behind a curtain of messy brown hair and backed away.

"Heaven's, you are awake!" The man cheered in a deep voice.

"Who are you?" Orel asked. The man's features and brown skin set him off from the locals.

"I-I do not know. I found myself here, and that is all I can recount."

As the man did not mean any harm, Orel walked closer to the fire to warm up. "Thanks for the fire. I'm Orel."

"No problem at all!" The man smiled warmly.

"How long have you been here?" Orel looked around.

"Days? Weeks? Good thing I found this spot here. Must be for how great of a tracker I am." The man stroked his rough stubble until his stomach grumbled.

"I have some food." Orel took his backpack.

"Thank heavens! There is not even a single fish in this damned stream. What do you have? Canned goods?" The man's rugged appearance did not suit his formal speech in any manner.

"Well, I have a breakfast bar." Orel searched.

"A breakfast...bar?" The man tilted his head.

"A snack."

"Aah, a snack! Gimme, gimme!" The man clapped his hands.

Just to be sure, Orel opened the plastic packaging before giving it to the man.

"Ah, a dried food. Pemmican?" The man inspected the bar.

"No, it has cereal, fruit, and chocolate," Orel explained.

"Ooh, chocolate!" The man chewed on it.

"So, is there a way out?" Orel looked down the stream.

"Who knows? My innards will freeze solid before I can find out. Without any food, I was too weak to try." The man licked his fingers. "Here, your clothes." He took them off from next to the fire.

"Thanks. Wait, watch out!" Orel noticed the man's sleeve had caught fire.

"Huh?" The man lifted the sleeve. "Darn it!" He dunked it in hot water.

"Are you alright?" Orel asked.

"There goes more of these rags." The man looked at the ruined sleeve, yet his hand was alright.

"Oh. I have a spare sweater, but I don't know if it will fit."

"Really? Anything better than these will do me a huge favor!" The man rejoiced.

Orel took the blue sweater from his backpack. It was too loose for him, but that would not be a problem. The man took off his rags and tied them to his waist like a loincloth.

Underneath, the man was surprisingly toned, even muscular. What caught Orel's eye, however, was something else. On the man's chest was a massive scar stretching from his hip to his shoulder. It was not the size that worried Orel the most but that it seemed to have healed without any sutures or stables.

"Ah, such softness, how I missed you." The man hugged himself.

Though it fit, Orel was not sure it would ever come off the man. Orel watched helplessly as the sweater stretched beyond its limits, hoping it would still shrink after a wash.

"Now, let us embark out of this hellhole!" The man proclaimed, pointing down the stream.

"Just like that?" Orel raised an eyebrow.

"The best time is now, as the worst time is never!"

"Do you know how long that goes?"

"Oh, boy, we are not doing a trek downstream. We are going up!" The man lifted his finger.

"How are we supposed to climb that?" Orel looked at the slippery ice walls.

"Follow me!" The man walked out of the cave.

Orel watched as the man jumped against the wall. To his surprise, the man did slide down but continued climbing. Walking closer, he noticed that as the man hit his feet against the ice, it melted away and gave him a ledge.

"What are you waiting for? Is it your first time climbing?" The man yelled from higher.

Orel grabbed hold of the ledges and climbed behind the man. Thankfully, he had mittens, or his fingers would have frozen. The man scaled the wall like a goat while Orel slipped in his steps. Still, the two made steady progress.

It might have taken a long, but Orel could finally see the edge. The man seemed to have already gone over, and it was now up for Orel to get out. His hands grasped for it, yet his legs slipped. Orel clawed on the snow yet could not take hold. As he were to fall again, a hand came and gripped him tightly.

"I got you," Norman said, dropping to his stomach. "Woah, wait, oh no!" He could feel himself getting dragged down.

"Need a hand?" The man asked, holding Norman by his legs.

With his help, Norman and Orel were dragged back to safety.

"That was close." Norman could still feel his heart racing. Thank gods you are alright."

"It's all thanks to that mister." Orel pointed.

"Ah, gee, spare me the compliments. That was what any gentleman would have done." The man blushed.

"Speaking of, who is he, Orel?" Norman stood up.

"He doesn't know." Orel shrugged.

"Indeed, I do not."

"Memory loss, and that speech pattern. What an interesting character." Norman pondered. "Well, good luck." He turned, waved, and walked back to the car.

"Are you going just to leave him here?" Orel asked.

"Fine, we can drop him in the nearest town. He did save us, after all." Norman sighed. "But remember, we aren't keeping him."

"Ooh, an automobile!" The man waltzed over with his loincloth swinging.

"And we need to get you a pair of pants." Norman noticed.

The three made their way over the bridge and continued their journey. After traveling for a while, they came to an intersection with a sign.

"Geavu is next, huh?" Norman read. "I didn't think it would be this close."

"So, what are you guys doing here?" The man asked.

"We're looking for the realm of the giants, Väinölä," Orel said.

"Oh, true explorers, I see. Mind if I come along?"

"What, why?" Norman glanced from the rearview mirror.

"Well, I have no idea where to go, and you fellows seemed swell."

"Can he, can he?" Orel asked with puppy eyes.

"He's a human being, not some stray animal." Norman shook his head.

"I thought that was obvious." The man raised his eyebrows. "I will not if I'm bothering your lot."

"Geez," Norman rolled his eyes. "Well, do you know any magic?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Fellow mage!" Norman raised his hand.

"Oh yeah!" The man high-fived him.

"What type of magic?" Norman asked.

"I am a down-to-earth pyromancer." The man claimed proudly. "Though it seems that my skills have become dull."

"Evocationist, eh? That could come in handy." Norman grinned.

"Evocationist?" Orel asked.

"Just one of the magic types. Don't bother yourself with that yet."

"First time I'm hearing something interesting; you tell me to wait for it?" Orel glared.

"Fine, there's evocation, transmutation, conjuration, illusion, enchantment, and psychomancy." Norman listed quickly. "Did you get that down?"

"Not really."

"Then be a good student and wait for the lecture."

"Are you his teacher?" The man asked.

"Yeah?" Norman said.

"How does not a boy at that age know magic?"

"To be precise, I've been his teacher for two weeks, and this boy who wasn't supposed to have any mages in his family needs to get his family tree sorted out."

"Kids sure are a handful." The man sighed.

"They sure are." Norman nodded. "But you really don't have a name?"

"Not one I can remember." The man scratched his head.

"Can we name him?" Orel asked.

"Well, having a name could help." Norman thought. "How about Ándras?"

"Ándras? Where is that from?" Orel asked.

"Sounds good to me." The man gave a thumbs up.

"Ándras it is." Norman nodded.

"Wait, what?" Orel looked at the two.

"Hey, Ándras, do you want to join our party?"

"Ooh, can I?"

"Wait, what party?" Orel jumped in.

"Don't worry; it's not official yet." Norman winked.

"Yet?" Orel grimaced. "Since when did we get a party?"

"The Voyagers are on their first mission!" Norman raised his fist in the air.

"Yeah!" Ándras yelled.

"Hold on!" Orel fumbled. "You even named it?"

"And you, Orel, are our leader." Norman pointed.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait." Orel shook his hands.

"Three cheers for the party leader!" Norman announced.

"Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah!" The Norman and Ándras cheered.

"...Huzzah." Orel gave in.

"Now that we're fired up, let me ask you two something. First, Orel." Norman's smile waned as he watched the road.

"Yes?"

"Do you still want to go on?"

"You already know."

"We can still turn around."

"You can turn around all you want." Orel crossed his arms.

"Just making sure." Norman sighed. "I'll let you in, Ándras. There are two evil mages where we are going, and to be honest, I don't think we can avoid them anymore. It's my fault for angering them, but we're already past that."

"Uh-huh." Ándras nodded.

"There's a strong chance we will clash, and you might have to fight too. Are you alright with that?"

"I see." Ándras stroked his beard. "Sure, why not?"

"Let me be clear. These mages will be brutal and dangerous. You are risking your life if you go with us."

"If not for your sudden appearance, I would not have slowly frozen in that cave. If anything, I am in your dept."

"That was just a coincidence," Norman said.

"Do not underestimate the threads of fate. I can feel it. It has brought us together for a reason."

"Fine, you pass."

"Woohoo!" Ándras celebrated until he hit his head on the roof. "Ow."

"Then you can help with another thing." Norman continued.

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"Train with Orel."

"Sure, no problem. Just what I needed." Ándras smiled.

"Good. Now, let's get to Geavu." Norman pushed the pedal.