Gentle snow left wet drops on my face, and as they melted, they trickled down my neck and past the collar of my coat. It created icy fingers that danced along my spine and left me feeling frozen to my core. I tilted my head down, burying my chin in the fabric, and felt as my hair started to grow damp. Wet strands brushed along the bridge of my nose, and drops of melted snow slid down its length.

“How much longer are we supposed to wait?” I asked, my voice a mere murmur in the frozen wasteland that Drixstead had become. A week had passed, and the Festival of Stars had arrived a day after Lewis and I had finished Davion’s request.

The snow had begun to fall only two hours before, completely in sync with the people who danced throughout the town square to the sound of beating drums. Their feet against the wet stone had shaken the earth, and the drums had pounded against my heart. The one instrument music had seemed to spur the snow on, making it fall faster and heavier than before.

“Davion will arrive soon, and he will complete the welcoming of winter,” Aleya told me. “Then, the ceremonial march will begin. I heard that you and Lewis are participating this year?”

I scowled but still nodded my head. Lewis was standing a bit behind me, and he had told me he would grab me before it was time. I only knew that we would carry the chest along with two others—that was all I had been told.

A hush fell over the crowd as quiet footsteps seemed to fill the square. Davion’s robe created brushing sounds over the snow as he walked past the circle of people to step up the platform that held the obelisk.

His voice was low yet strong as he began to speak. “The snow has come, gracing our land once again. It buries the ground and bids it to sleep, turning unforgiving for those who wish to touch it. But as the earth rests, the sky does wake.

“Past the sky that gives the snow, the vast heavens of the universe shows its stars, lighting up the world that grows dark and cold because of the changing seasons. We do not lament the coming of snow—we must celebrate it.

“For how else will the land gain a reprieve from a human’s tampering hands? How else can we celebrate the purity of the earth that comes after the melting snow washes it clean? How else can Fevdohr show his creations and increase his power if not for the snow?” His voice had risen, and his odd devotion towards a weather pattern made my eyebrows raise.

“The stars shine the brightest when winter falls upon us,” Davion continued. “For only in great darkness can the light increase, and only then can we worship Fevdohr and his creations to the fullest.”

My indifferent listening was interrupted as Lewis tapped me on the shoulder, whispering that it was time. Aleya quietly wished good luck, and I turned to follow him to the inside of a house connected to the square, where two other men stood next to the wooden chest. I moved to the back right spot, intending to bend down to pick it up with the others.

I was stopped by Lewis as he gripped my wrist to place a metal chain in my palm.

“Wear this around your neck; it’s a match to ones we are also wearing. Davion told us to put them on as part of the ceremony since we chose to not wear uniforms,” he told me. The metal was the same type that wrapped around the coffin, but it formed a chain necklace made of small interconnected links. It felt colder than the snow in my hand, yet created a burning line when I placed it around my neck.

Shaking my head to push away the feeling, I took a knee to grip the wooden rod that was attached to the chest. It was perfectly shoulder height, my arms comfortably bent to take it into my palms.

The final product of our work reminded me of the biblical Ark of the Covenant. It was just longer and narrower—coffin-shaped. Its lid was also less intricate, the only decoration being the metal that ran around its sides.

With a count of three from Lewis, the four of us picked it up. It was practically weightless from the strength of the others. We exited the building, pausing to wait for Davion’s speech to end. When he finished, the drums started up again, and we began to move.

The rhythmic pounding sped up as we approached the platform, but in contrast, we seemed to move at a snail's pace. Every step I took was slowed by the snow that clung to my feet and the heaviness of the coffin that began to weigh me down.

My head felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton and the drums that reverberated through my skull did not help. I hardly noticed when we began to walk up the stairs to the platform, the toes of my shoes scraping against every stone step.

We seemed to stop in the middle of the platform, and I gave in to the urge to collapse, bending down to take a knee, placing the bottom of the coffin on the ground. Lewis and the others had done the same, my descent meeting no resistance.

Despite the task being completed, I could not move my hands away from the wooden pole, and it still rested on my shoulder. The scrape of wood against wood was heard, then the clattering of the lid hitting stone rang out.

I could distantly hear the voice of Davion, but it was muddled and indiscernible. The clomping of footsteps came closer, and one person after another walked past my kneeling form. Metal hit the bottom of the coffin after each pass, every drop pulsing through the wood to vibrate against my numb hands.

The flow of people gradually trickled to a stop and the lid of the coffin was picked up and placed back on. A hand fell to my shoulder, briefly squeezing, then it disappeared.

Past the snow that seeped into the knee of my pants and the weight that hung from my neck, I began to smell the heavy scent of smoke. It surrounded me, filling my clothes and chasing away the cold air.

Burning fire licked at my hands, pain dancing along my skin and destroying my cognition even more. Even though my skin remained undamaged, the fire still hurt me to my soul.

The wood in my hands crumbled to ash, and I could suddenly hear Lewis’s labored breathing over the sound of roaring flames. My hands fell to the ground, sensitive skin pressing against the cool stone. My throat felt raw—perhaps I had been screaming.

The patriarch's soothing voice appeared in front of me where I knew Lewis kneeled, and his pain-filled breaths began to slow. “You’ve done well, Lewis. But it’s not over yet. I still need you.”

Struggling against the ground, Lewis stood with help from Davion. They began to walk off, heavy steps growing further away. I could not sense the other two that had helped carry the coffin, and I wondered if they had left as well.

With shaky legs I rose to my feet, moving in the direction Lewis and Davion had left. I wasn’t sure why I was following them, but I distantly knew that the patriarch would know what was happening.

My legs felt wobbly, and my teeth chattered from the onslaught of the cold that descended on me with fierceness now that the fire was gone. Still, I trudged on.

I found myself standing in front of the building I had first met Davion in, its door slightly cracked as I pressed my hand against it. I let myself in, hearing two sets of footsteps in front of me, still on the first floor.

Following the sound, I ran my hand along the smooth wall to keep my balance. Their progress was slow, so I quickly gained on them. Turning a corner, I stopped as Davion noticed me, calling out.

“How did you get here, Cain? Well, it doesn’t matter.” He sighed, and I felt as mana began to flow from his hands, filling the room.

I turned my head as the stone walls and floor began to grind, and it was as if the entire room was shifting. Davion moved once again, Lewis still slumped against him, and I went to follow.

Davion tsked at me. ”No more following, please. You mustn't get in the way.”

A rope of running liquid that I thought had only been melting snow wrapped around my right ankle with a mind of its own. Before I could think of trying to remove it, it yanked me backward with a surprising amount of force. My feet slipped as the floor disappeared, and I was falling.

My stomach dropped, my throat in my mouth as it failed to release any noise. My hands reached through the empty air, but there was nothing for me to grasp.

I kept falling. Down, down, down, until my head was about to explode.

I hit against viscous liquid with a stinging smack before I sank into its warm depths. Blood filled my every orifice, the taste of burning copper flooding my throat and imprinting inside of me.

Struggling to the surface of the river of blood, I emerged and gasped for breath, hacking to get the fluid out of my system. The damp air filled my now clear head.

With panicked motions, I reached for my neck with shaky fingers, finding the metal necklace gone. My fall had most likely removed it, getting rid of whatever spell that had been placed on me.

What had happened? Davion had seemed to complete his ceremony, attempting to burn the four of us alive in the process. I could probably thank [Summon Flame] for my life, but how had Lewis survived? Why did Davion need him now?

I could now process my hazy memories, but many answers still eluded me as I treaded in the river of blood. Something had been offered to the coffin by the inhabitants of Drixstead, and then for some reason, Davion had burned it. I could blame my complaisance on the necklace, but now that it was removed, I felt the need to do the same for Lewis.

For whatever reason, he was needed by Davion, and I would be damned if I let him complete whatever he was planning after bending me to his will, then throwing me into this pool under his stronghold. I could only imagine how many people it had taken to fill this underground river, and I would probably never understand how it was still fresh as if millions of throats had been slit only an hour before.

I swam forward, running into a ledge. Pulling myself out of the liquid, I collapsed onto my back, the cool stone pressing against my heated neck. Blood had already started to dry in the creases of my body, and trails of errant drops ran down my face like tears. Possibly, they were tears.

A couple of minutes were needed to stop my body from trembling, and once I had steadied my shaky breathing, I pushed myself to my feet. Expanding my senses, I tried to make sense of my surroundings. I seemed to be in a long tunnel, and it felt almost like a sewer. A walkway extended in front of me, leading along the endless stretch of blood.

The smell was heavy in the air, and I could still taste it on my tongue. Shivering, I remembered the feeling of drowning in blood, my fingernails scratching uselessly at the stone wall.

They painfully cracked, no doubt leaving new streaks of blood. It grounded me in this absurd reality, and I tried to steel myself.

However, the endless depths of blood only a step away seemed to promise me a similar fate, and I could find no calm.