Snow did not fall so much as hover now.
The air was thick with fine white dust, drifting in layers, blurring trees and earth and sky into shades of gray. The world beyond Ashstone's borders felt muffled—like sound and light had both been padded. Only breath and movement remained sharp.
Footsteps compacted the snow into a thin, dark trail behind them.
Jace moved at the front with his sword drawn, blade low, eyes scanning the treeline. Torren walked half a step to his right, shield up, weight centered, each movement deliberate. The mages—Lysia and Baird—followed close, their steps careful, robes brushing over frost. Mara walked with her axe resting against her shoulder, expression somewhere between alert and faintly irritated she wasn't hitting something yet.
Kel walked at the rear.
The bow sat lightly in his left hand.
Arrows waited at his back.
The curse rested cold in his chest.
The wind carried something else.
A smell.
Not rot.
Not blood.
Fur.
Wet, frost-coated fur.
Duskwolf scent.
The first encounter had been almost clean.
The beast had appeared out of the snow—white-grey fur blending almost seamlessly with its surroundings, eyes a sickly pale yellow, breath steaming in sharp bursts. Its paws landed without sound. Its fangs, when it bared them, were too long for anything that should be called "lesser."
Jace had moved to intercept.
Kel moved first.
His bow came up with a smoothness that would have surprised even him yesterday. Breath in.
Draw.
Anchor.
The string protested against his fingers, but his muscles now remembered the ache.
He exhaled.
The arrow flew.
It split the silence like a whisper given form.
No scream.
No hiss.
Just a flash of motion—
—and then the arrow buried itself in the wolf's eye.
The beast's leap turned into a twisted contortion in mid-air, momentum hurling its dead weight past Jace instead of into him. It crashed into snow with a thump, skidding, leaving a dirty smear on white ground.
Jace's boots slid back half a step from the force of its near-impact.
He glanced back.
Kel's bow was already lowering.
His face remained calm.
Unmoving.
Jace smiled.
Not wide.
Tight.
Respectful.
"Useful," he had said.
Kel had said nothing.
The silent arrow spoke enough.
Now, as they moved deeper, that first kill only served as context.
Further north.
Flatter terrain.
Sparse trees, their branches crystalline with frost.
The sky above them was starting to dim toward an early dusk—the kind of winter evening that came long before the sun officially surrendered.
Kel's eyes traced the treeline.
Every rise.
Every shadow.
Every gap.
We've killed three so far, he thought. That's not a lone hunter's pattern.
Duskwolves rarely hunted alone.
Not at this stage of snow.
They circled.
They tested.
They chose the weak spot.
Which, in this formation, was clear:
The mages.
Or the blind side of the vanguard.
Wind brushed against his face.
Soft.
Different.
He stopped.
Subtly.
His steps slowed.
The others continued for two paces before they realized.
His voice cut the air quietly.
"Don't move."
Jace froze.
Torren's shield angled.
Mara's grip shifted on her axe.
The mages stiffened.
"What is it?" Jace asked, not turning fully.
Kel's eyes were fixed on the right flank.
The treeline volunteered nothing.
Snow continued to fall.
Silence stretched.
The curse in his chest pulsed once—cold, insistent. Not warning.
Resonance.
He raised his bow.
Not quickly.
Deliberately.
Arrow drawn from quiver.
Nock.
Draw.
The string hummed a low tension.
His eyes sharpened, their grey deepening, focused on what others could not yet see.
Sound hunters.
They circle at the edges of focus.
He aimed slightly above a patch of uneven snow.
Baird frowned. "…There's nothing—"
The snow erupted.
Three shapes burst from the drift—two Duskwolves and something smaller, a younger beast. White fur bristled, teeth bared, pale eyes hungry. Their limbs moved like coiled steel whips, all muscle and predatory focus.
One angled straight for Jace's exposed side.
Torren began to shift, shield raising—
Kel released.
The arrow cut the thin space before movement could complete.
It hit the leaping Duskwolf in the throat, the force of the impact twisting its trajectory mid-air. Blood sprayed in an arc of dark red droplets, scattering across Jace's shoulder guard as the beast's body slammed into the ground at his feet.
The swordsman didn't flinch.
He adjusted his stance, stepping over the twitching corpse, blade ready.
"Incoming, left!" Mara shouted.
The other two beasts split—one swerving for Lysia, the other circling toward Torren's shield side.
Kel's eyes narrowed.
Now they adjust.
One for the caster. One to test the shield.
Time stretched.
Not truly.
Only in the angle of his focus.
He shifted his stance, boots digging into snow.
His bow turned.
His left shoulder protested the sudden redirection, muscles already burning from earlier practice. The curse clawed his lungs, displeased with this level of exertion after so little rest.
He did not argue with pain.
He simply used it as a line to measure how far he could push.
Three targets.
Three angles.
One breath.
The Duskwolf charging Lysia bounded over the snow in long, fluid arcs, jaws open wide, aiming for the fragility of her cloth-covered throat.
Her hands flew up, gathering frost light around her staff—but her casting time had already lost the race.
Kel didn't think.
He reacted.
Arrow.
Draw.
Exhale.
Release.
The arrow planted itself in the beast's eye as it leapt.
Its body twisted violently, missing Lysia's face by inches as it fell to the side, crashing into the snow at her feet. She stumbled back, staff clutched in white-knuckled grip, breath coming fast.
"You—" she started.
Kel had already shifted again.
The third Duskwolf was faster.
Not going for vulnerable cloth.
It went for Torren's blind edge.
Torren turned, shield swinging—but the beast was already low, jaws angling to clamp onto his thigh where armor segmented.
Kel's eyes tracked the beast's path.
Too close for a clean headshot.
Angle… spine, side.
He pulled another arrow.
Draw.
His fingers burned.
His right hand trembled slightly now—not from fear, but fatigue.
He crushed the tremor by force of will.
Time shivered.
The beast lunged.
Torren grunted, trying to pivot.
Kel loosed.
The arrow struck the Duskwolf in the ribcage, right between its shoulder blades, piercing deep enough to throw its momentum off. It yelped, body twisting, jaws snapping just shy of Torren's leg. The beast crashed sideways, legs clawing desperately against snow as pain shattered its rhythm.
It wasn't a clean kill.
But it made the kill possible.
Mara crashed in like a falling axe.
Because that's what she was.
Her weapon came down in a brutal arc, cleaving through the Duskwolf's skull before it could recover. Bone cracked. Flesh split. The beast spasmed once.
Was still.
Silence settled.
Not the serene kind.
The heavy, after-battle kind—where breath sounded too loud and hearts took longer to remember a normal rhythm.
Steam rose from the beasts' bodies.
Blood pooled, soaking into white.
Jace let out a quiet breath, wiping splatter from his cheek with the back of his wrist.
He turned to look fully at Kel.
This time, the respect in his eyes had sharpened into something more solid.
"You're improving fast," he said. "That mid-air shot—most archers need months just to calm themselves enough for such timing."
Kel exhaled slowly.
His arms burned.
The bow felt heavier.
But his face didn't show strain beyond a faint pallor and slight rise of breath.
"If I don't improve now," he said, "I won't get another chance."
That earned a dry huff from Mara.
"Spoken like someone who's seen people die for being slow," she muttered.
Lysia looked at the beast that had nearly ripped her throat out.
Then at the arrow embedded in its eye.
Her fingers tightened on her staff.
"…Thank you," she said, voice lower than usual.
Kel only dipped his chin slightly.
He did not say you're welcome.
They all knew the transaction.
He survived by them.
They survived by him.
Torren flexed his leg, checking for bites.
Finding none, he glanced at Kel.
"Good angle," he rumbled. "You forced its weight aside without over-penetration."
Kel's gaze flicked to him.
Noting the detail.
He thinks like a shield-bearer even when observing arrows.
Baird was the last to speak.
He stepped closer to one of the corpses, kneeling down, tracing faint sigils in the air above it.
"These weren't just passing beasts," he said. "Their mana trace is concentrated. They've been circling this area for days."
Jace frowned.
"A nest?"
Baird shook his head.
"No. Not that dense. But something's keeping them from migrating further. They're… lingering."
That word made Kel's eyes narrow.
Lingering predators. Static patterns. That implies… boundaries. Or a stronger presence keeping them within range.
Lysia straightened, unease still crawling across her features.
"We should pull back soon," she said. "The request was for a clearing hunt, not a deep search."
Jace nodded.
"We circle for one more cluster," he decided, "then return."
Mara grunted.
"I'd rather hit something big."
Torren gave her a look.
"You'd rather get paid."
She grinned.
"Same thing."
Kel half-turned slightly, scanning the horizon again.
Snow.
Grey line of trees in the distance.
Faint, drifting shadows.
His body hurt.
His curse simmered.
But his mind remained sharp.
My archery is stabilizing, he noted. Reaction timing improving. Group coordination still unfamiliar. But… workable.
A faint flicker touched the edge of his awareness.
[Cold Requiem – Bowmanship]
Rank increased
– Improved recovery between shots
– Slightly enhanced multi-target adjustment
He inhaled.
Let the notification fade.
Good.
If I live long enough to reach the mountains, this will matter.
They continued.
The snow deepened where wind had carved small drifts; sometimes their boots sank a full step, sometimes barely at all. The sky stayed dim, a flat sheet above, giving no indication of time's passage except through cold's worsening bite.
As they moved, Kel's presence in the formation began to… settle.
At first, he had simply been an extra piece.
Now they adjusted unconsciously.
Jace stopped angling his body to compensate for blind-sides Kel could now see first.
Mara rushed forward only after she heard the quiet thwip of release behind her.
Lysia and Baird timed some of their spell-chants not at the beginning of conflict—but just after Kel's first arrow landed, trusting his shot to buy them that second.
Torren paced his shield movement with awareness that his right flank now had eyes trained upon it.
In quiet, in incremental choices, they gave him a place.
And Kel…
Filled it.
Arrow after arrow.
Beast after beast.
Sometimes his shots killed outright.
An eye pierced.
A throat torn.
Sometimes, they disoriented, twisted momentum, turned fatal leaps into stumbling targets for Mara's axe or Jace's sword.
Every arrow had a decision behind it.
He never shot blindly.
Never twice at the same threat if one shot had already neutralized its killing trajectory.
He saved the next arrow for the next problem.
His strain grew.
The curse coiled, displeased.
Its cold seeped further along his veins, fingers numb at the tips despite the gloves, breaths coming shallower.
But his gaze…
Only grew calmer.
Sharper.
There came a moment—
Near a slight ridge where the snow dipped and rose again in a smooth, deceptive curve—
Where everything condensed.
Jace stepped onto the ridge's crest.
Baird just behind him.
Mara to the left.
Torren to the right.
Lysia one pace further back, staff glowing softly.
Kel took position just below, to the side.
Too exposed, Kel thought.
He opened his mouth to warn them.
The snow ahead of Jace collapsed.
Not in sink-hole fashion.
In eruption.
Four Duskwolves burst from beneath, fur showering frost, claws tearing at air, jaws opening with simultaneous, guttural snarls.
They had been lying in wait beneath a thin crust of snow, warmth and breath muted by cunning positioning.
One went straight for Jace.
Another veered mid-air toward Lysia.
A third, larger than the others, lunged low, targeting Torren's foot, where even his armor had seams.
The fourth kept distance, circling, ready to dash at anyone who broke formation.
Time did something strange then.
Not truly slowing.
Not stopping.
But every movement became loud.
Jace's eyes widened, weight shifting to his back leg, sword moving up—
Lysia's lips parted, spell half-formed—
Torren's shield started to angle down—
Kel's body moved on its own.
Bow up.
Step backward for stabilizing leverage.
He did not think one by one.
He thought all.
At once.
Jace, first.
He drew.
Pain lanced from spine to ribs.
He ignored it.
Arrow.
Aim.
Release.
The first Duskwolf—aiming for Jace's throat—caught the arrow through its open mouth. It pierced out the back of its skull in a spray of red mist. The beast didn't just fall.
It dropped—its body collapsing mid-leap, slamming into the snow with a choking thud inches from Jace's chest.
Lysia.
He had already grabbed the second arrow by the time the first hit.
His fingers moved with the muscle memory of the library, the training yard, every moment repeated until they could operate even as his lungs screamed for breath.
He drew.
Turned.
His joints protested the rapid direction change.
The Duskwolf leaping toward Lysia's chest bared its teeth, eyes manic with the promise of a fragile kill.
Kel's arrow didn't aim for the obvious kill point.
It aimed for the joint of its foreleg mid-air.
He let it fly.
The arrow slammed into that joint.
Bone cracked.
The beast's leap twisted into something ugly. Its body jerked sideways, missing Lysia's torso entirely and crashing into the snow at her feet, limbs flailing. It tried to scramble up—
Mara's axe arrived like the judgment of a god.
She brought it down with both hands, blade biting deep into its spine. Snow sprayed with crimson.
Torren.
The third Duskwolf, bigger, smarter, had committed to its low angle.
Its jaws were centimeters from Torren's ankle.
Torren's shield was still coming down.
Too slow.
Kel's third arrow was already nocked when he landed his back foot.
This time, he didn't draw fully.
His body wouldn't allow it.
His fingers trembled.
The curse hissed, cold fire racing through his chest.
He drew to just enough.
Less power.
More angle.
He aimed for the beast's ear, where the skull was thinner, the entry angle lined toward the base of the neck.
He released.
The arrow flew in a slight arc, weak in power but precise in direction.
It tore through the Duskwolf's ear and slid deeper, punching through fragile bone and burying itself halfway into the skull.
The beast's head jerked violently, its jaws snapping shut on empty air. Its front paws collapsed, body skidding, its teeth scraping Torren's boot harmlessly.
Torren's shield finally dropped fully, slamming into the creature's skull, finishing what Kel's arrow had started.
The fourth Duskwolf—hesitating, circling—saw three of its pack fall or falter in less than two heartbeats.
Its eyes rolled.
Its muscles coiled—
"Don't."
Kel's voice came out low, raw.
The beast flinched.
Not from understanding.
From the sudden sound.
Jace lunged.
His sword flashed in a clean, decapitating arc.
The fourth body hit the snow.
Silence followed.
Everyone stood where they were.
Breathing.
Listening to their own hearts.
Snow fell.
Steaming beast bodies exhaled their last warmth into the air.
Kel lowered his bow.
His arms felt like they were made of glass about to crack.
His chest burned and froze at the same time.
He swallowed.
His breath came thinner.
His legs…
He made sure they did not shake.
Jace turned to him first.
This time, he didn't hide his expression.
There was no casual amusement.
No mere respect.
There was an echo of something closer to awe.
"Three," he said softly. "You redirected to all three."
Lysia looked at him like she had never truly seen him before.
Her hand pressed subconsciously to her chest, where the beast would have ripped through.
Torren grunted.
"Two kills," the tanker said. "One cripple. All decisive."
Mara laughed once, breathless.
"You're not a beginner," she said. "You're a monster in training."
Kel's lips curved very faintly.
But his eyes remained distant.
My archery improved.
But this pace… will tear my body soon.
His curse twisted inside him, displeased at being dragged this far without proper rest.
He endured it.
Because he had seen something else in that moment.
Not just beasts falling.
Not just arrows landing.
He had seen proof.
I can alter three deaths in a breath.
I can change outcomes without standing in the jaws myself.
He exhaled.
Snow landed on his lashes.
Melted.
"We should return," he said quietly. "Before we find what scared them into lingering here."
For a moment, no one argued.
Then Jace nodded.
Firm.
"…Agreed."
They gathered what they could from the corpses—cores, fur, viable parts.
The world felt… slightly different.
Not for Ashstone.
Not for the snow.
Just for five people who now knew that the boy with the quiet eyes and bow could redraw threat maps in moments.
As they began their walk back toward the town's walls, Kel tightened his hand on the bow.
His fingers ached.
His curse simmered.
But his eyes…
Were very calm.
And somewhere, deep beneath the pain—
There was the faint, dangerous satisfaction of someone who had tested a new edge of himself…
…and found it sharper than expected.