Snow fell early over the frozen mountains. The wind howled between the peaks, echoing like the distant lament of some ancient being. Beneath thick layers of snow, inside a cave cut off from the world, there was silence within — while outside raged the merciless dominion of nature.
Inside the cave stood a stone table and two rough chairs. On the table, black tea with slowly rising steam. The light came from a small fire-crystal embedded in the wall, casting a dim yet steady glow.
Larden sat silently, cradling his cup in both palms.
Across from him — Anuis.
Both were old men.
Neither was an ordinary old man.
Anuis broke the silence first.
"You've been unable to hide your eyes for a long time now, Larden." He slowly turned his cup. "Let's talk about the boy."
Larden remained quiet for a moment.
"He is not a boy."
Anuis gave a faint smile.
"Isn't he five?"
"Age is only a shell," Larden said in a low voice. "What's inside… is far older."
