18: Journey Through the Frozen Wastes
The journey north began under a sky heavy with snow clouds. Nyx rode at the head of the small party—ten Shadow Pack warriors, Thorne as guide, and herself. The white wolves provided by the northern escort had been left behind at the border; these lands belonged to bears and ice cats, creatures that viewed wolves as intruders.
The terrain changed quickly. Rolling hills gave way to jagged foothills, then to vast plains of ice where the wind howled like a living thing. Trees became scarce, replaced by frozen tundra dotted with ancient standing stones covered in frost runes.
Nyx pulled her mother's cloak tighter. The fur-lined hood framed her face, but the cold still bit at her cheeks. Her shadows responded instinctively, wrapping around her like a second skin—warm, protective.
Thorne rode beside her on a massive ice bear, its fur white as fresh snow. He hadn't spoken much since they left, but his eyes constantly scanned the horizon.
"You're quiet," Nyx said on the third day, as they crested a ridge overlooking a frozen lake.
Thorne glanced at her. "Observing."
"Me or the land?"
"Both."
Nyx raised an eyebrow. "And?"
He was silent for a long moment.
"You're not what I expected."
She laughed softly. "What did you expect? A monster? A goddess?"
"Something… overwhelming," he admitted. "Stories of the Tri-Blood reached even our frozen clans. Power that could shatter mountains. Eyes that see souls."
Nyx looked away, silver eye catching the weak sunlight. "Power doesn't make someone. Choices do."
Thorne's expression shifted—something almost like respect.
They made camp that night in the ruins of an ancient watchtower, its stones cracked by centuries of frost. The warriors set wards while Nyx and Thorne tended the fire.
As the others slept, Nyx sat watching the flames, shadows dancing at her fingertips.
"You don't sleep much," Thorne observed, settling beside her with a waterskin.
"Dreams are… complicated."
He nodded, understanding in his ice-blue eyes. "The calling?"
She met his gaze sharply. "You feel it too?"
"Not like you. But yes. The Light Devourer… it speaks to those with strong light magic. Promises purity. Perfection. Freedom from shadow's hunger."
Nyx's shadows flared briefly. "And you resisted?"
Thorne pulled up his sleeve, revealing scars that glowed faintly white—old wounds from light magic burns.
"I resisted. Barely. Lost my clan doing it."
Nyx's heart clenched. "I'm sorry."
He shrugged, but pain lingered in his eyes. "It's why I was sent. They thought someone who survived its temptation might… understand."
They sat in silence, watching snow fall outside the tower ruins.
After a while, Nyx spoke. "What's it like? The North?"
"Beautiful," Thorne said quietly. "And cruel. Ice that sings at night. Lights that dance in the sky. Creatures that walk on frozen water. But everything fights to survive. Nothing is given."
"Sounds like home," Nyx said with a small smile.
Thorne looked at her then—really looked.
"You're not what I expected," he repeated.
This time, there was warmth in it.
The next day brought the first attack.
They were crossing a narrow ice bridge over a crevasse when the air shimmered.
Creatures emerged from the frost itself—translucent figures of pure light, shaped like wolves but with too many joints, too many teeth.
"Ice wraiths," Thorne shouted. "Corrupted by the Devourer!"
The warriors shifted, shadows exploding outward.
But the wraiths were fast—made of light, they passed through physical attacks.
One leapt at Nyx.
She raised her hand instinctively.
Silver light poured from her palm, meeting the wraith head-on.
It screamed—a sound like shattering glass—and dissolved.
The others hesitated.
Nyx's midnight eye flared. Shadows joined the light, forming chains that wrapped around the remaining wraiths, dragging them into darkness where light couldn't reach.
They vanished with final shrieks.
The party stared at Nyx in awe.
She lowered her hand, breathing hard.
"You just… balanced them. Light to draw them, shadow to destroy."
Nyx nodded, still processing. "It felt right."
Thorne approached slowly.
"You're more dangerous than they said."
"Dangerous to our enemies," she corrected.
Thorne's lips curved—the closest thing to a smile she'd seen.
"To our enemies," he agreed.
That night, as they camped in a cave warmed by shadow fire, Nyx felt the pull stronger than ever.
Not hunger.
Recognition.
The Light Devourer wasn't just hunting her power.
It was calling its opposite.
Its completion.
She told Thorne.
He listened without judgment.
"Then we'll answer together," he said simply.
Nyx looked at him across the fire.
Ice and shadow.
Light and dark.
Two sides of the same coin.
Perhaps.
The journey continued.
Deeper into the frozen wastes.
Closer to the heart of the eternal frost.
Where something ancient waited.
Not to devour.
To unite.
Or to be balanced.
The choice would be Nyx's.
And the world would never be the same.