Far up north stands the greatest mountain pass known to man, the Unbroken Ones. Its name comes from how perilous it is to climb, and how dangerous it is to cross. The rocky barrier is more than a thousand miles long, spreading from the far east to the western sea. Considering how large it is, some peaks are obviously more attainable than others, but all, even the simplest, are a challenge of endurance and luck: the freezing temperatures, the gusts of wind able to break bones and ropes, the unending climbs... Furthermore, reaching the peaks or crossing the mountains brings no gain. Up north there are only tribes of nomads and the Hiri Mushroom found in coniferous forests, and there are three natural paths to the Unbroken Ones. The most dangerous of them, the Canyon of Sables, leads directly to the derelict Last.

Extract from the frontiers of the Imperatrix’s kingdom, first edition.

Nay was sitting in the cooking caravan, waiting for the large woman with the now dirty white apron. Usually, the little girl would have explored this new place, brimming with exciting and strange objects coming from afar, but not this time. Now, she was immobile, her knees on her chest, snuggling next to the kitchen’s oven. Even though the flames inside did not reassure her, they were warming her up. Ra’fa quickly came back, sleeping bag in hand, and with no words, set it up in the back of the large carriage, next to a large number of stacked up wooden crates. Most of them were empty, only two were still full of food.

Nay did not believe she was sleepy, but the moment she laid down on the makeshift bed, she fell asleep.

She was haunted by the creature. She sank in a nightmare that was not one, it was a memory. She was drowning inside a world with no light, with no sound except the one of claws clashing together.

She saw a face.

She was woken up by the sound of her own screams, but those were only in her head, and the sound of claws was simply Ra’fa cutting vegetables.

Decisively, the soft potatoes were peeled, diced, then sunk in a pan filled with boiling water.

Nay was trying to catch her breath.

“Inhale with your nose, exhale with your mouth. Feel your stomach inflate, your lungs fill themselves with air, then slowly, very slowly deflate.”

Her father’s words helped her calm down, but his memory brought tears to her eyes.

She held them back. She would not cry for this man.

The sound of sizzling oil caught her interest. She was taken by the movements of the cook, bringing her knife down on multiple kinds of vegetables mercilessly. Some went in the pan with boiling water, others on a smoking metallic plate.

The vehicle was moving, she could hear hooves scrunching the snow and hitting the rock underneath. Hiyu would soon be replaced with Priyu: snow would cease falling, rain would reign.

Considering where they were, this was terrible news.

Nay was thinking about her saviours. Did they know what Priyu brought? Why no one could enter the Canyon of Sables during that season?

To be honest, Nay was not sure it even mattered to her anymore.

After a few minutes, the cook realized the little girl was awake and put her knife away.

“Take a glass of water.” She pointed towards a wooden barrel. “And clean yourself up with that.” This time, she pointed towards a pile of clothing laying next to Nay. They had to have been brought there when she slept.

The child found a towel and cleaned the sweat pearling from her front and back. She was wearing a simple dark wool leotard; the rest of her clothes were in the pile next to her.

She stood up.

She easily found a wooden cup and filled it with the contents of the designated barrel.

She felt slightly better after drinking.

Ra’fa had resumed her cooking. “You seem to have had a rough night, better not think about it.”

The little girl filled her cup once again.

“Take a chair and come and help me.” The woman continued.

Nay put the now empty cup on the ground and went to stand on the seat next to Ra’fa.

“Can you cook?” She asked.

“Yes.” Answered the little girl weakly.

“Well, well! You are really not the morning type, are you? Take a knife and cut some onions.”

It was not hard for Nay to find some onions; she had slept not far away from them. Back on her seat, she took some time to choose a knife. Lots of them were hanging from the wall in front of her.

The cook was examining her from the corner of her eye.

The little girl finally decided on a large one, way too big for her, but before Ra’fa could comment on it, Nay began peeling one of the onions smoothly.

“You were not kidding, it seems. You can cook.” The large woman noted.

The little girl did not react, concentrated on her task. Once peeled, she began cutting the onion down, and large tears fell from her eyes. She did not seem bothered by them, sniffling occasionally.

Ra’fa looked at her but decided not to say anything.

And so they cooked together, with no words, sizzling of vegetables, hooves in snow and clinking of the strange instrument on the ceiling as background music.

For a few days, Nay barely left the cooking caravan.

She passed the days helping the cook, eating, or looking beyond the freezing walls of the canyon, strange glow inside her cloudy grey eyes.

Once she let her curiosity get the better of her and expressed interest in the animals pulling the carriages. Ra’fa had very happily taught her what she knew. The Yae were large domestic bovines that albeit slow, could handle very heavy loads and extreme temperatures. Moreover, their white fur was used to craft effective winter clothing. Once her questions answered, Nay’s curiosity had died down, and she barely spoke anymore.

Her nocturnal terrors were impeding her sleep. She never screamed, but always woke up drenched in sweat and with ragged breath. At first, Ra’fa did not worry too much. But after a few days, she spotted the little girl bashing her head on the cooking caravan’s wall, fortunately covered in thick fur.

“By Holy Ja!” She shouted, stopping the child. “What are you doing?!”

“I don’t want to see them.” Nay’s voice was stricken by exhaustion and she could barely speak up.

“What don’t you want to see?” Asked the cook.

“The demons in my dreams.”

That night, the large woman slept with the child in the cooking caravan.

The next day, she went to talk to Marke.

They were outside, at the front of the convoy. It was barely dawn. Snow had stopped falling, the air was warmer. The sergeant was leading the way for the slow, lumbering Yaes, his eyes constantly scanning the surrounding area for any movement. He looked tired; he had not slept much either.

“I need to talk to you.” She began.

“What?” He answered, taciturn.

“Our survivor, Nay, she doesn’t sleep well.”

“So? No one does since we saw what was left of her people.”

“I’m not talking about that. She wakes up terrorized. I caught her smacking her head on the walls yesterday, to make the nightmares disappear she said. I think she is having Trayx’s dreams.”

The guard looked at her.

“That bad?”

“Think about it! Most people in her circumstances would have Trayx’s dreams. Everything fits…well, except that she does not wake up screaming. If Hyelinn was still among us, she could have…”

He cut her off abruptly.

“No, you are most likely right. I know those nightmares; people don’t always scream.”

Ra’fa looked at him quizzically.

“The girl is smart. She knows that if she screams, she could be heard. In her mind, being heard means death.” He spoke with certainty, as if he had already experienced what he talked about beforehand.

Ra’fa thought about his words.

The kingdom of silence in this world of ice was interrupted by the howling of Yaes.

The wind had fallen.

“What do we do then?” She asked.

“You? Nothing. The girl helps with the kitchen work, right? You told me she was good.”

“Yes, not her first time and quite the natural, but that’s the only thing she does. If I let her, she would cook all the time and we’d be out of provisions in less than a week.”

“We need to have enough for another month or two, in case of other trees falling from the plateau up top and blocking our path. You can let her cook, but as you say, not too much. I think it is important she has a ritual like that though, they are important during mourning. Still, it is not enough. I will take care of the rest. Tell her I’ll come and pick her up tomorrow morning.”

“What are you going to do?” She asked, intrigued.

He smirked for only answer.

“Mph… and here I thought you were almost bearable today.” The large woman said with factitious displeasure in her voice.

“I love you too.”

“Keep those words for the Yae, they are the only ones you still have a shot with.”

Nay did not really register what Ra’fa told her when the cook came back. The little girl was staring at nothing.

She slept especially badly that night. She was already dressed when Marke came to look for her. He opened the thick curtains serving as a door, letting the cold air inside the carriage. Dawn would not be long, but it was still night outside.

The instrument on the ceiling ringed its river-like melody.

Marke was still wearing the same silver armour.

‘Does he never take it off?’ She asked herself.

“Kiddo.” He said while shaking his head as a sign of hello.

She did not answer.

“Follow me.”

The convoy was stopped. At this hour, humans as well as Yae were sleeping. Everyone except the few guards patrolling the perimeter, torches in hand.

She followed the man Ra’fa had called a Legio. She could examine his back, where a large collection of daggers in leather sheathes were stuck on his armour. She had no idea what one man could do with so many blades, but before she dared to ask, they arrived at the front of the convoy. He unsheathed a blade and threw it on the ground, next to the little girl. While she looked at the weapon confusedly, he went to pick up a wooden stick. Then, very ceremoniously, he planted and lit down torches around them.

Once surrounded by bright flames, he talked to her again.

“It will be easier to defend yourself if you pick it up.” He noted, an almost sadistic smile on his face.

As the little girl was still not reacting, he reached for her, stick in hand, and hit her on her right arm.

He had clearly been holding back, but she could not stop a painful cry to slip from her lips anyway.

She threw him a furious stare.

He raised his shoulders in the air, unimpressed.

While rubbing her sore arm, she picked up the dagger on the ground.

Snow was melting on top of the carriages, and the sound of the falling droplets of water was disturbing the silence.

Nay knew it would soon melt completely, and that the reign of no noise would be replaced with the furious roar of gushing streams of water engulfing the tight canyon.

She could have talked to them about it, but she did not know why she should bother with it.

An orange ray of light shone through the skies, and she focused on the man in front of her.

She relaxed her shoulders and knees, dagger in her left hand.

It did not show on his face in any way, but the girl’s stance surprised the sergeant. She was trained and had held a blade in her hands before. Women were rarely taught how to fight except in times of war, so this was more than unusual. Her stance was not perfect, far from it, and he knew she was not left-handed, he had watched her cook before.

He circled around her to continue his analysis, then, once he believed he had gotten enough, he attacked. Before she could react, he struck her again, this time on the leg. She almost dropped her weapon but held on. She tried to retaliate with a desperate, frustrated swing. It went through nothing but air, the Legio was already long gone.

“With that speed, a slug could dodge you.” He taunted.

The little girl was furious but did not respond to the provocation.

“From the left.” He warned her.

He jumped forwards, and as he had said, he hit her with a wide strike coming from the left.

She had raised her dagger in the opposite direction.

“My left! Not yours, runt!”

The hit had made her drop her weapon this time.

He thought she would give up there and then, as all other kids her age would have done, but she picked up her dagger and resumed her stance.

“Would you look at that…the girl is stubborn.”

“I’m not a girl!” She yelled.

This time, she was the one to attack.

The sergeant did not react immediately, surprised by the audacity of the girl half his size.

She tried to hit him with a series of swings and stabs, but her attempts were clumsy at best.

It took less than a quarter of a second for him to refocus, and he easily caught the attacks with his makeshift staff. He deflected every attack gracefully.

She quickly understood she would not touch him like that, lacking the reach and strength to pose any threat.

“Well? Done already?” He provoked, a smile on his lips.

It quickly disappeared; a freezing gust of wind had rushed inside the Canyon.

Nay’s gaze changed; her grey eyes became almost ghostly. Her calm and resolute expression had no place on such a young face.

She jumped back, putting space between her and the chief of the guards. Then, in a strange movement, like one seen in a dance, she twirled and whirled around.

The sergeant instantly took things seriously, he adopted a defensive stance and wholly concentrated on Nay.

He knew what she was doing.

After a particularly beautiful twirl, like those Eastern Sovereign dance moves, the dagger disappeared from his view.

It reappeared almost like magic, escaping from the girl’s fingers, cutting through the air towards him. If not for his experience and the fact that he had seen this technique in the past, he could not have reacted in time. He brandished his stick with unbelievable speed and immediately after, a little “Tchok!” was heard. The blade had stuck itself deep inside his makeshift weapon. In truth, he had worried for nothing, the attack had not been as dangerous as he initially thought. Nay had aimed for his torso, protected by his silver breastplate. Her throw had been powerful for a kid but would never have penetrated his armour. If she had aimed for his head though…

Nay was out of breath. Realizing even her throw had failed and that her weapon was now out of reach, she fell on the ground and burst into tears.

Her cries reaching for no one pierced the rising dawn.

The sergeant, still fascinated by the dagger in his stick, was finally dragged out of his stupor.

He pulled out the dagger, sheathed it, then approached the child.

“It was a nice throw…” He said in a vain attempt to cheer her up.

She continued crying.

He scratched the back of his head, not knowing what to do.

This was when he realized bystanders were looking at them.

As the first lights of the day had risen beyond the mountain pass, women from the convoy had woken up and begun their early work. Some had stopped to look at what was happening. A little girl was also watching shyly, half hidden behind the skirt of her mother.

They were looking at an adult man, standing up a stick in hand, in front of a crying child on the ground.

Marke sighed. In one hour, everyone would know what had supposedly transpired here, and how he had tortured the poor survivor girl. Ra’fa would give him stale bread for weeks.

As if he had summoned her with his thoughts, the aforementioned woman arrived, alerted by the girl’s cries.

“What the hell have you done!?” Her stare was accusatory to say the least.

“Morning training?” He tried to defend himself, sheepishly.

Ra’fa took Nay in her arms, glaring at the Legio all the while, and brought her back towards the cooking caravan.

Nay held the woman close.

She then whispered inside the cook’s ears: “Ra’fa, Priyu is coming…if we stay here, we’ll die…”

The large woman stopped dead in her tracks to examine her, then she answered: “We know Nay. We know…”

She resumed her walk towards the back of the convoy, entered the cooking caravan, and laid the little girl in her sleeping bag. To her surprise, the child was already asleep, sobbing quietly, but nonetheless serene.

“By Holy Ja! Here she sleeps, as he said! He so infuriates me…”