A love forged in exile

Chapter 12: The Trials of the Cold

Kaelin awoke to the muffled sounds of howling winds outside the igloo. The warmth of the small fire had barely managed to keep the bone-chilling cold at bay through the night, and as he opened his eyes, he could feel the frost creeping into his bones. Tarin was still asleep beside him, her form curled tightly under the thick fur blanket. She looked peaceful, but he knew that peace wouldn't last long in a place like this.

The events of the previous day flooded back into his mind-Harek, the Frostclaws, the cursed cold of the frozen wastes. They had barely survived their first encounter, and now, their only hope lay in learning from a man who had once been as powerful as them but had been reduced to a mere shadow of his former self.

Kaelin stretched, pulling the blanket closer around himself, and rose quietly, careful not to wake Tarin. He found Harek sitting outside the igloo, his back to them, staring out into the endless white. The man hadn't slept. His fur cloak whipped in the wind, his presence somehow blending into the landscape itself, as if he belonged to the cold more than he did to the world of men.

Harek didn't turn as Kaelin approached, but he spoke, his voice low and rumbling. "The snow is thicker today. We'll have to be careful."

Kaelin crouched down beside him, eyes scanning the barren expanse ahead. It was hard to believe anything lived out here, yet the night before had proven otherwise. "You said you'd show us how to survive out here."

Harek nodded, his gaze never leaving the horizon. "The cold is a living thing here, Kaelin. You can't fight it like you would a man or a beast. It seeps into your skin, your bones, and your mind. The creatures that live here, they've adapted. You and your friend will need to do the same."

Kaelin frowned. "And how do we do that?"

Harek finally turned, his sharp, weathered eyes locking with Kaelin's. "You fight it the way we fought the Forsaken-through discipline, patience, and understanding your enemy. You have to become part of the cold. It doesn't mean you'll conquer it, but it means you'll survive long enough to face what's really out there."

He stood up, motioning for Kaelin to follow. "Wake your friend. We'll start soon."

Tarin was reluctant to leave the warmth of the igloo, but once outside, the reality of their situation set in. The snow fell lightly now, but the wind was biting, and despite the thick layers of clothing and furs, the cold felt like it could pierce through anything.

Harek led them up a small ridge overlooking the valley they had passed through. It was a stark landscape-endless snow, broken only by the jagged peaks in the distance and the occasional movement of shadows far in the distance. Frostclaws or something worse, Kaelin thought grimly.

"The first thing you need to understand," Harek began, his voice carrying over the wind, "is that magic doesn't work here the way you're used to."

Tarin looked up, concerned. "What do you mean? I used magic last night-"

"You did," Harek interrupted, "but barely. This cold has a way of sapping magic from you, slowly draining it away until you're left with nothing. I had to learn that the hard way. The more you rely on magic here, the quicker it'll leave you."

Kaelin nodded. He had felt it too-the strain when they fought the Frostclaws, how every swing of his sword had felt heavier, every step more burdensome.

"So, what do we do?" Tarin asked, pulling her cloak tighter around her.

Harek's eyes hardened. "You conserve your strength. You learn to fight with what's around you. The cold won't break you if you let it become a part of you, but the more you resist, the more it'll drain you. First, we need to toughen your bodies."

Without another word, Harek led them down the ridge and into the valley, where the wind seemed to grow even fiercer. Kaelin could barely see more than a few feet ahead, the snow whipping into his face and stinging his skin. They followed Harek closely, their steps sinking into the deep snow, their movements becoming labored.

"Out here," Harek said, his voice a mere growl over the howling wind, "you need to keep moving. Stopping means death. You can't let the cold settle into your bones, or it'll never leave. Even if it feels like you can't go on, you push. Always push."

The trek was grueling. Kaelin's muscles screamed in protest, his body already weary from the events of the day before. Tarin struggled as well, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to keep pace. But Harek was relentless, his movements steady and sure, as though the cold had no effect on him at all.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached a small outcrop of rocks. Harek stopped and turned to face them, his eyes scanning their faces. "Now we learn to fight."

Kaelin's heart pounded in his chest. He was barely standing, the cold gnawing at his strength, but he nodded, determined to follow through.

Harek pulled his curved blade from its sheath and handed Kaelin a crude wooden staff he had fashioned from a nearby tree branch. "The Frostclaws aren't your only threat out here. There are others-creatures even more dangerous that come down from the peaks when the storms are strong. You can't rely on magic, and you can't rely on speed. You have to use the environment."

He demonstrated a series of slow, methodical strikes with his blade, cutting through the air with precision. "Out here, your strength doesn't come from your body or your magic. It comes from your mind. You have to think ahead, anticipate your enemy, and use every advantage the cold gives you."

Kaelin tried to mimic Harek's movements, but his muscles were stiff, his movements sluggish. The staff felt heavy in his hands, and each strike felt clumsy. Tarin watched, worry etched on her face.

Harek frowned, walking up to Kaelin and correcting his stance. "Your body is fighting the cold. You need to let it flow through you, not resist it. Use it to guide your movements."

Kaelin gritted his teeth, trying again. This time, he moved slower, more deliberately. He could feel the cold, but instead of letting it numb his senses, he focused on it, letting it sharpen his mind. The strikes came easier now, more fluid.

Harek nodded approvingly. "Better. But you're still too tense. Relax."

Tarin watched for a moment before speaking up. "And what about magic? Is there no way to use it at all?"

Harek sighed. "There are ways, but they come at a cost. If you use magic here, you have to be ready to sacrifice something. The cold takes from you. Every spell, every bit of energy you give, it takes more in return. That's why I don't rely on it anymore. It's too dangerous."

Tarin frowned, her fingers flexing as if testing the air. "But if we don't use magic, how are we supposed to fight the Forsaken?"

Harek's eyes darkened. "That's a question you'll have to answer for yourselves. I can teach you to survive the cold, to fight the creatures here. But the Forsaken... they're something else. Something more. You'll need to figure out how to face them without losing yourselves in the process."

Kaelin and Tarin exchanged a glance. The weight of Harek's words settled heavily on them. They had come so far, faced so much already, but it was clear that this land-the frozen wastes-would test them in ways they had never imagined.

"Tomorrow," Harek said, his voice low, "we hunt."