The mountains had grown closer.
No longer distant silhouettes beneath the sky's pale lid, they now rose like jagged teeth tearing through the horizon. Their upper halves were obscured by veils of drifting snow, the peaks lost to a storm forming somewhere beyond mortal sight. The air had sharpened further—colder, thinner—turning each breath into white vapour escaping from lips like stolen warmth.
Kel, Reina, and Landon pressed forward in measured silence.
Their footsteps carved a slender, unwavering path across an expanse that felt increasingly indifferent. The snow layered deeper here, soft but concealing unevenness beneath. Kel adjusted his pace subtly, each step informed by where his feet sank slightly quicker—a sign of hollow pockets beneath the frost.
Reina walked with calculated grace, her boots landing silently despite the depth. Landon's strides were heavier, compressing snow deeper, but his steps remained balanced.
No words exchanged.
Only breath.
Only vigilance.
Only the cold.
A sound tore that silence.
Not loud.
Not near.
But swift.
A shuddering, irregular rumble.
Like dozens of bodies pounding through terrain, ignoring silence, breaking frozen ground in a panic.
Kel raised his head.
Reina's hand moved to her sword hilt.
Landon tightened his grip on his cloak.
The ground trembled faintly.
Then movement appeared from beyond a dip in the ridge ahead.
Monsters.
At least two dozen.
Racing toward them.
Kel's expression didn't shift.
He watched them with quiet analysis.
These were not the deliberate hunters of cold.
They were the hunted.
Frost ferns.
Ice-snouted crawlers.
Small winter boar-beasts with crystalline tusks.
A scattering of low-tier fiends with cracked skin oozing pale mist.
All pushing through snow—not charging with purpose, but fleeing.
Their eyes were wide.
Their movements uncontrolled.
They were terrified.
Not of Kel.
Not of the trio at all.
But of whatever chased them.
Landon stepped forward subtly, moving half a body width to shield Kel.
Reina repositioned to a lower stance, hand ready to draw.
The rumble intensified.
Through the churned snow trailing behind the beasts, something else appeared—
Men.
No—
Barbarians.
Riding on beasts of their own: great horned snowhorn elk, fur wrapped in layered hides, war paint smeared over brimstone-like skin. The riders bore axe-spears and curved blades made from razor-edged bone and black iron.
Their hair was braided tightly with bone beads, their arms bare despite the cold, muscles knotting beneath scar-laced flesh.
Ten of them.
Eyes fierce.
Breath heavy.
Their mounts pounded the snow-hard earth, breaking ice beneath hooves.
They were laughing.
Not cruelly.
Wildly.
Alive.
A hunting party, Kel thought. And the prey is being driven our way.
The horde of monsters noticed the trio then.
Too late.
Their panic redirected.
Several of the beasts veered toward Kel, Reina, and Landon—not from hostility, but from sheer desperation to avoid the barbarians.
Reina stepped forward, blade sliding from its sheath with lethal precision.
Landon angled himself to intercept from the right.
Kel—
Drew.
Not to kill.
To block.
His bowstring flexed.
Three arrows loaded in a practiced motion.
He released.
The shafts struck the snow inches ahead of the charging creatures—not aiming at flesh, but earth.
The arrows exploded through shallow frost, kicking up a line of ice shards in a controlled blast, startling the monsters mid-sprint.
They skidded. Stumbled. Lost speed.
Reina stepped in the instant after.
Her sword flashed once, twice—quick, angled cuts that did not kill, merely redirected their path away from the three travelers.
Landon moved heavier, driving his boot into the side of an approaching frost boar, redirecting it with sheer force.
The monsters stumbled past them, diverted without full engagement.
The barbarians reached them then.
Not the trio—they thundered toward the broken monster formation.
Their mounts crashed through snow, axes swung in wide, savage arcs. One barbarian lunged downwards, cleaving through an ice crawler's spine with a guttural roar. Another hurled a spear into the boar Kel had diverted, the weapon slamming deep.
The snow sang with violence.
White was stained with blood.
Kel watched in silence.
Not intervening.
Not stepping aside.
Just observing the chaos progress.
Reina's gaze remained sharp on the barbarians.
Landon's posture readied for conflict if needed.
But Kel spoke.
Soft.
Measured.
"Do not draw steel unless they turn toward us. They're focused on prey."
Landon's grip eased fractionally.
Reina said nothing.
She understood.
The barbarians noticed the trio only after the monsters lay mostly still.
One of them—tall, scarred diagonally across his left cheek—pulled his beast to a halt. His elk snorted, casting vapour into the air. He leaned slightly back in his saddle, axe idling casually against his thigh.
His eyes narrowed.
Not hostile.
Appraising.
He studied Kel, then Reina, then Landon.
Kel didn't shift.
The barbarian clicked his tongue, amused.
His voice carried through the snow—rough-edged and deep.
"Ar'ghren tal vohn?"
Kel understood fragments.
Are you travellers?
Kel nodded just once.
The barbarian flicked his chin toward the slain creatures.
"Heh. Not hunters, yet don't flinch when the hunted runs past."
He watched Kel's bow.
"Arrow-for-fear. Not death."
A pause.
"Sensible."
Reina's shoulders eased a fraction.
Landon remained ready.
The other barbarians slowed their mounts, circling loosely. Their gazes varied—some interested, some dismissive, one or two faintly impressed by how the three had stood without drawing full aggression.
The scarred barbarian gestured to Kel's bow.
"Your shot. You hold line without spilling needless blood."
He nodded toward Reina.
"Your sword—clean. No waste."
His eyes moved to Landon.
"You stand like mountain-foot."
Landon blinked. "…Mountain-foot?"
Reina's lips almost moved.
Kel spoke instead.
"He means you plant properly before striking."
Landon grunted once.
Slightly proud.
The barbarian clicked his tongue approvingly.
"Sharp-tongue hunts well," he said, amused. "Better when it knows when not to hunt."
Kel inclined his head.
The barbarian lifted his axe in a non-combative gesture.
"We chase deeper," he said. "The herds run strange today. North wind drives them south. Unnatural."
Reina's eyes grew intent.
"Unnatural how?"
The barbarian shrugged, heavy fur coat shifting.
"Storm's not alone," he said, tone flattening. "Something moves before it."
Kel felt his heartbeat slow.
A shift in the monster circuits? Something greater?
The barbarian pulled his mount around.
Before riding off, he looked once more at Kel.
His stare was direct.
Weighing.
Then his lips curved into something not quite a smile.
"Three walkers in storm-foot path," he said. "If storm doesn't eat you… meet us at Thrak's Spine. Three days north."
Kel didn't react.
Not outwardly.
But he understood.
Thrak's Spine—in Destiny lore—was a mountain pass used by barbarian clans during winter migration cycles. Few outsiders were welcomed there. Even fewer left alive.
To receive an invitation—
That was never accidental.
Kel nodded once.
"If we reach it," he replied quietly, "we will walk in without shame."
The barbarian barked a rough laugh.
"Good. Men without shame drink better."
With that, he turned his mount with a sharp whistle.
The others followed, roaring in their native speech as they surged forward across the corpse-strewn snow to chase the remnants that fled.
The sound of their pursuit faded into the storm.
Silence returned.
Kel lowered his bow.
His breath left him slowly.
Reina sheathed her sword.
Landon rolled his shoulders, exhaling.
Kel spoke without looking at them.
"The storm is not the only question."
Reina glanced his way.
"Thrak's Spine," she said. "You know of it."
Kel nodded.
Landon squinted toward where the barbarians vanished.
"Do we go around?"
Kel turned toward the mountains again.
Snow swirled low around his boots.
His eyes were calm.
Resolute.
"No," he said.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
"We go through."
Reina followed, silent.
Landon exhaled once, then matched their pace.
Behind them, snow settled softly over tracks of beasts and blood.
Ahead, the mountains waited.
Cold.
Watching.
The wind rose again.
Not with hostility.
With recognition.