Year 1349

The northern winds howled as loud as wild wolves. The frost covered every crevice of every rock in the plateau. There was not a sign of soil, or dirt, or life. Just snow and ice. Snow covered the ground like a cold blanket and danced in the air, slapping the branches of sparse trees and bare bushes. It was difficult to see and breathe. The sky was always enveloped in hefty, rolling storm clouds. A land cursed to be forever monochrome.

If there was one word Revan could use to describe this place, it was hell.

A hell made of ice.

He inched forward through the snow. Not even the bundles upon bundles of cloaks and scarves he’d wrapped around his head and body, even going as far as to lace them with heat derived from magic, no, not even that was enough to ease the agonizing frost.

He passed by some old shacks with ice-dammed roofs and battered stone and wood. He wondered how people could live in these conditions, year after year, like it was normal.

He wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for the orders of his Mistress. It was part of his training, and he was determined not to fail such an interesting, if excruciating task. He descended down a slope, being careful not to slip.

Though, he really should have watched out for half-buried objects poking out of the snow. His boot snagged and he rolled the rest of the way down the hill. Snow flicked off his lashes and stuck to the front of his hair. The heavy scarf he’d wrapped around his head was coming undone and letting the icy air through. He quickly wrapped it back up in a panicked haste. The extra surge of heat energy he was forcing out wasn’t helping by much; his magic simply wasn’t strong enough for this. Energy input and output wasn’t innate to him—that was what his Mistress had said. He didn’t understand what that had meant at first, but now he was beginning to get it.

He stood up on shaky legs, half numb from the cold, dizzy from the tumble, and looked up the hill to see what he’d tripped on. He assumed it would be a log sticking out, or some stone, but amid the vast white mound was something that looked to be a part of a quilted cloth. A piece of cloak, it seemed.

Revan frowned. His boot hadn’t snagged on anything that felt like cloth, that was for certain. He had been sure it was a harder object. He cautiously approached closer, squinting.

It was indeed a patterned cloth sticking out of the snow, stiffer than glass. Revan could now see an outline of something larger underneath it, buried in the snow hill. He kicked it gently, and some of the snow slid down.

With a gasp, he tumbled back and fell down the short hill again, this time landing on his behind. That stiff, patterned cloth had been attached to a man. Revan had caught a glimpse of ghastly pale skin and a hollow eye socket before he’d fallen down again. He wasn’t about to go back and examine the body any more.

Shaking, Revan moved on, letting his eyes linger on the ground every once in a while, watching out for any other unfortunate souls that may have been forever trapped under this relentless storm.

He hadn’t wanted to make this long, daunting trip to the isles of the far north. He hadn’t wanted to run into any strange people, or the “savages,” as the rest of the world called them. He’d heard stories of what the population of Mogheir was supposed to look like—built like mountains, hairier than bears, wide faces, hands and feet big enough to kill a small beast, or human. Teeth sharp enough to eat them raw too. But that frozen man back there, though, had looked surprisingly ordinary, if a bit thicker boned than the average person.

Right now, he needed to get to the ice chasms. Within those would be the cave he’d made this daunting journey for in the first place—from riding horseback, hitching on wagons, trying to find a boatman that would take his money and guide him across the channel to the closest isles of this damned ice block, walking the rest of the way on sled, then on foot. He hopped from inns to cabins, and even to tribal igloos for some warmth when his energy levels decreased to nothing at the end of each day. The further north he went, the less people he saw, and the more he had to rely on tribes. Most kept themselves hidden, scarce. And at this point in his journey, there was none at all. He had no one, but himself to rely on for survival.

It was a part of his training, and it had all better be worth it.

Darkness would be settling soon. The snowfall had now ceased, and the parted storm clouds revealed the sun, in all its red glory among a purple canvas, dipping further into the peaks. He felt as though he’d been walking for hours, far too long for his heat magic to keep up, but he’d been sensing a lone active spirit the minute he’d stepped within the vicinity of the chasms. They were deep and vast, stretching for miles on end, a never ending sheet of white. The tundra above it was surprisingly flat, unlike the rest of the country practically carved out of caves, ridges, and jagged cliffs. There was no sign of life anywhere here, but Revan knew better. There was life lurking within the chasm, and right now he could not tell whether that life was good or sinister.

After another ten minutes of trudging through the snow, he arrived at the area the spirit was strongest. It was expecting him, its wariness washing over Revan like a freeze wave.

While he wanted to continue this mission, he also really wanted to seek out a warm hut, immerse his cold and sore body in a hot bath, and bury himself underneath blankets for a few months. His stomach rumbled for some meaty stew. He wondered if the thing down in the chasm was going to offer him any of these things.

He chuckled humorlessly as he rummaged through his backpack for a harness, a hook, ice axes, and rope.

His Mistress was an active woman; she had shown him how to climb and descend ice walls on their excursion to Bazant, another northern city that experienced heavy snowfall. But compared to this place, Bazant was mild. Any ordinary human venturing out here would be long dead by now.

Luckily, Revan was not an ordinary human. Most times he did not think of himself as human at all.

The harness was snug over his cloak layers. He anchored the rope on the hook he’d secured into an ice block, connected it with the harness, grabbed his axes, and began the steep journey down. He only needed to get thirty miles down onto the first landing. His breath shook beneath the scarf over his mouth. It was hard to breath, with all the energy he was exerting with warming himself and struggling down this damn wall.

Beyond the first landing, he sensed other life forms, and they were anything but friendly. The chasm was as extensive as an ocean, likely just as deep. A thick layer of mist hovered under the first landing, shielding the abyss like water. The mist layer looked thick and sturdy enough to step on, though only a fool would actually try.

Revan sank down once his shaky feet finally hit the landing, only to instantly regret it.

“Shit,” he cursed, standing back up. The ice hard surface had sent an unpleasant shock through his wrapped up body. Biting over his chapped lips, he forced himself to walk forward, leaving his axes and the dangling rope behind on the wall.

The cave was a few feet ahead of him. If the winds above were jarring enough, the winds down here were worse. The spirits further down the abyss were restless. Revan tried to drown their emotions out, focusing on the single one he’d come to see today. He stepped closer to the jagged mouth of the cave and paused.

It was dark. Abnormally dark, as though he would fall into nothing if he walked in.

He sighed and lolled his rigid neck, preparing himself, then reached into his backpack to pull out a small lamp. He was able to get a rather weak flame going with a snap of his fingers, with the little energy he had left in him. It took some of the heat out of his body though, and he cringed, frustrated.

With this source of light, Revan made his way into the cave, slow and cautious of every step. The further he walked in, the brighter his surroundings became, thankfully. The source was up ahead, like a faint, blue glow. With the help of his lamp, he could make out two figures, still and as silent as the cavern itself.

Revan followed the magic. It’s glow emitted brighter until he could make out the two forms. They hadn’t made a single movement, not even a flinch or a turn his direction. His footsteps were not discreet; they echoed with each purposeful step. But there they stood, as still as stone statues.

Something wasn’t right. He was sensing something, but it was faint, almost muted. As though something was blocking him from reading their emotions. This abnormality had to be the result of an enchantment of some kind, otherwise it did not make any sense. His stomach twisted, and he halted when he got close enough to the figures.

Revan almost dropped his lamp at the sight of these “statues.”

They were people. Very…odd looking people, but people nonetheless.

Revan had to guess they were prehistoric, which would fascinate him, if it didn’t make him feel incredibly uneasy. His gaze landed on the one in front. It was a man with a dark and hairy protruding face. He had on old snow-flecked tribal cloaks and pants, and wore a pointy turban on his head. From which tribe or religion, Revan could not guess. He could make out what looked like a faded crescent on the strange black turban. The man’s blue eyes were wide open—in terror.

Revan stepped back, pointing his light to the other one a bit further behind this man. This one was a woman, with the same expression on her face. She was less hairy than he was, her ebony skin much smoother too. Her face was more wide-set, but protruded oddly just the same as his. Her clothing consisted of layered skirts, boots, heavy cloaks, and golden jewelry around her arms, neck, and ears.

They were from the same tribe. Married. She had vermilion in the mid parting of her hair—a tradition that was still practiced in Revan’s society. Both she and the man had bulky sacks thrown over their shoulder.

Revan stared at her in awe. Their tribe must be from the south, closer to where he was from. And to be all the way down here…they had to have been familiar with magic! Could they have been….mages of the older days? Or simply people who were familiar with the ice spirits, who also happened to be better acclimated to this freezing hellscape than humans of today?

Most of all, Revan wondered what they could have possibly done to end with such a fate as this. He would have to ask his Mistress about this when he finally got back home—

And then, the realization of where he still was, and what these two figures—literally frozen against time—could mean for him. It hit him at once, and his awe sank to his gut in dismay. He didn’t know if he would be able to leave in one piece, should he make the same errors they had.

This was the work of a curse, and its source was behind the blue glow up ahead, emitting behind a wall of ice. Revan could see the mighty silhouette of the thing approaching. It was bigger than even these robust tribal couple before him, probably three times the size of an ordinary person. Revan swallowed, involuntarily taking yet another step back.

The thing beckoned him closer, and Revan had no choice but to obey. He sensed this creature’s suspicion of him, but it did not mean him harm.

“He-Hello?” he whispered carefully. “You are the one I seek.”

The creature did not answer. Its steady breathing was audible and grating, like a beast’s rumble.

Revan stepped within the vicinity of the blue glow. The creature was mostly visible now, at least one half of it was, and Revan wished he could step back into the shadows and make his offering without having to see the thing up close.

Its stature was large and broad, its limbs long and powerful. Gray and white hairs covered its body. Stone jewels decorated its wide neck, head, and waistline. Its eyes were small and opaque, sunken into its skull. Its nose was flat, its wide mouth set in a grim line. It was studying him, trying to gather whether he could be trusted. But it felt like death was staring into his face. He could not stand to look into those lifeless eyes, colder than the tundra itself.

After some time, Revan thought he should make the first move. The sooner this was done with, the sooner he can hopefully make his way out. Nervously, he reached into his pack and pulled out a jar.

The contents in it had naturally frozen, but it piqued the creature’s interest anyway. He motioned with his claw for Revan to approach closer. He did not wish to do so, but took the a couple of measly steps anyway.

“I wish to make a trade,” he whispered.

“So…young.”

Revan jolted at the thing’s voice. It was deep and incredibly rough, like gravel. Like it hadn’t spoken in a hundred years. Despite this, its sound was powerful enough to vibrate across the cave like thunder.

He’d been told the creature could adapt to whatever language one spoke to it. Not very well, but well enough to get direct messages across.

“You are like…child,” it said.

Revan was seventeen years of age. He did not feel like much of a “child”, but to this thing who had lived for eons, he might as well be.

“Young, but smart. Resilience. I thank you…for the heart,” it said.

Revan nodded in reply. He could not speak even if he wanted to. It hadn’t been an easy sacrifice, taking the soul and the blood of a former fellow slave. But the thing would feed off the trauma of such an act. It wasn’t necessary for the creature to survive, but it would bring it some pleasure, like alcohol or illicit plants, or even sex, brought pleasure to people. It made for a good trade.

Revan swallowed, forcing the dry lump down his throat. Now was not the time for self-loathing.

“I see your travels….in the glass.” It lifted its heavy arm and pointed behind him, beyond the icicle infested wall where the haunting blue light continued to shine. “I know the whispers in your mind. Go. Take.”

Revan slowly stepped past the beast and peered behind the wall. His mouth dropped open at the sight.

The space was filled with shards of mirror glass stuck on the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. Gems of every color imaginable made crooked lines along the wall. In the middle stood an ancient stone torch, its fire bright and blue.

“I see you…in the glass,” it said again, standing behind him. Its breath was old and chilly, like the cliffs Revan had suffered over to get here. He shivered.

“Yes,” he mumbled in wonder. “You saw me in the mirrors, before I got here. How do you do it?”

“Unlike us spirits, blessed by God, mere mage need condition. I will show you.”

“And…the gems. My Mistress, she—”

“Powerful Sorceress…I know of her desire.”

Revan went quiet for a moment before asking, “Can I trust her?”

“…Sometimes.”

“…Very well.”

As soon as Revan moved toward a mirror shard, the thing clasped its giant hands on his shoulder. Its silver claws dug into his clothes and Revan shuddered with anxiety.

The thing—no, Revan should stop referring to it like that. It was more than just some frightful creature. This was a spirit. A spirit with a very ominous air, yet only malevolent when unjustly crossed. This was once a man native to these lands, blessed by the Northern God. This spirit offered powers to see one’s present, past, and future.

Many would think of it a savage, and in some ways, they were right. Revan eyed the jar of his most gruesome deed yet in the spirit’s clutches. But most people had no idea the things that make the Mogheiri so special, why they were so protective of their land and their people. Why they fought to keep others away, why they let themselves be known as barbarians to keep distance from. The one Revan stood with today, was only one of many others that held ancient powers that had been lost long ago. Powers that had originated from the unknown lands, far, far in the east…

Revan gulped. Had he mistakenly caused offense?

The spirit spoke again. “You take only what you need, then you come back to me. Do not steal. Greed…forfeits departure.”

Revan forced himself to look at the ghastly face above him. “Like…those two mages in the cave?”

The grim mouth seemed to grow more despondent. “Only two you see. There are more. They still see too…they feel…they see only treasure, money, so they want more…so they remain forever. With their greed in their sacks.”

The spirit then left him, its feet pounding away. No doubt he would enjoy the “meal” Revan had brought for him.

Revan did not dare test the warning. Those people…that’s why he’d sensed something off. They were still alive. The gods only knew how many other were scattered around this cave, paying the eternal price for their treachery. Revan would not be making the same mistake.

He carefully lifted a shard and held it to the light. A shining green gem embedded in the ice wall reflected back.