The Lonely Ones

Chapter Forty-Six: How It All Began

Artemis has never been very fond of the cold, but now he may be making an exception. Wren's homeland cannot be described in words. It's a place that needs to be seen to believe; fields of white snow like sparkling gems drifting into eternity. How could a land belonging to the frigid air of death be so beautiful? As if Artemis has been plucked from reality and set into a fairytale where crystal castles sit perched among high mountaintops, which is exactly where they go.

Doors thrice his size swing open without a touch. Inside, the very walls are made of deep blue ice while the floors and stairs are stone. Even the furniture cannot escape the icy touch; chair legs made of twisted ice and snow filtering from the ceiling to rest atop the cushions. A few goblins hobble around with dusters to wipe the snow off as if it doesn't become covered a moment later. But then they all stop and stare, eyes alight like they're ready to pounce. Artemis reaches for the iron sword at his waist, preparing for the worst. But the goblins don't move without their master's command.

Wren sends them a harsh glare and the goblins scatter.

"Don't worry about them. They won't do you or Maggie any harm," Wren states loudly for all to hear, then ascends the spiral staircase. Artemis tries to grab the railing, but it's also ice, which doesn't really help if one were to slip. He'd mention it to Wren, but the prince is so eerily silent and stern that he keeps his mouth shut.

Strange tapestries, peculiar paintings, and bizarre sculptures line the hallways they take to a bedroom. Wren lays Maggie on a bed that Artemis expected to also be made of ice, but when he tests it with his hand, he finds it to be soft as a cloud. Or what he imagines a cloud to feel like. He sits the iron sword on the opposite side of the room on a dresser, away from Wren who has eyed it wearily on a number of occasions. Artemis doesn't want him accidentally touching it.

"If we start a fire, is the ceiling going to melt? It's a tad chilly in here," Artemis says, although he does note it isn't as cold as he expected. That may already be Wren's doing though. Artemis and Maggie aren't wearing coats or winter clothes but neither have freezed when they probably should have by now.

With a snap of his fingers, Wren lights the fireplace and a wave of unbelievable warmth washes over the room. The snow along the furniture evaporates, but the ice never falters.

"Are you trying to show off?" Artemis teases, if only in hopes to earn some form of reaction from Wren. He has looked serious since they began their journey.

"We should wake her now and get the shock over with," Wren says.

"Alright, but we're going to talk afterwards."

Wren raises his gaze curiously.

"About what's going on and whatever else may be bothering you," Artemis explains. Wren's brief glance to the doors doesn't go unnoticed, but he doesn't ask. Like he said, they'll talk afterwards.

"Should I leave? The sight of me may make her panic more," Wren states.

"I'd rather you stay." More for himself than anything else, which he doesn't say and Wren doesn't argue against.

Waving his hand over Maggie's face, the spell's lifted. She awakes with a violent start. Artemis grabs her shoulders to keep her from completely leaping out of the bed. Wide-eyed, Maggie searches the room in confusion, then terror when her gaze lands on Wren. He stares her down, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, which isn't helping.

"Art... what... what's going on?" Maggie sputters, glancing fearfully between Wren and Artemis. She grasps his wrist like she's willing to drag him out of the room if she has to.

"Maggie, I need you to listen for a bit and not freak out," Artemis says, to which Maggie stares at him like he has lost his mind. Not that he blames her. Sometimes he feels like he has lost his mind considering the many very strange paths his life has taken recently.