Rise of Yahunyens: Origin

Episode 57: Noi?

The storm on the other side of the portal roared to life, far more violent than before, as if the elements themselves had been summoned to ward them off. Snow and frost whipped through the air in a frenzy, a living entity of chaos. Griswa, Yesdar, and Malaes stepped into this hostile world with the kind of stillness that only those acquainted with the unknown could muster. The mountains loomed in the distance, dark shapes half-hidden by the blizzard's veil. To their left, the sea lurked, its low tides sluggish beneath the frost-bitten air, its surface restless beneath the storm's fury. Their surroundings were barely visible through the thick curtain of frost and snow, but what they could see told them all they needed to know—this storm was worse. Far worse.

Griswa removed his blue shaded glasses, their lenses were fogged by the sudden overwhelming cold. He slipped them into his ornate coat, the movements precise, calculated—as though the act itself could defy the chaos that surrounded them. The frost clung to every surface, each flake carrying with it a cruel bite, a reminder of the unforgiving world they had returned to.

Yesdar turned to observe the sea, his breath visible in the air. "Oh! Here is a sea too... like the ones we saw back on Ehayor." His voice was quieter than usual, as if the storm itself demanded silence from those within it.

Malaes didn't respond, her attention already elsewhere, senses sharpened. Something—an anomaly in the air, a break in the natural rhythm—caught her attention. She tilted her head, her gaze fixed ahead, piercing the storm with invisible tendrils of awareness. "Do you hear it?" she asked, her voice barely above the whisper of the wind.

Griswa's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Faint breathing... someone's close."

There was no need for further words. They advanced, their movements swift, cutting through the storm as if it were little more than a nuisance. The cold didn't touch them; their bodies had long since become impervious to such trivialities. What mattered was the faint, fragile life clinging to existence in the depths of this frozen wasteland.

Yesdar lingered as he was transfixed by the view of the sea for just a moment too long, his attention was pulled by the serene beauty of it amidst the chaos of the storm. By the time he snapped back to attention, Griswa and Malaes had disappeared into the white haze, already far ahead. Cursing softly, he rushed to catch up.

"Wait!"

When Yesdar reached them, Griswa and Malaes had knelt near the figure they had been seeking. A body, encased in ice, lay before them. Motionless. Still.

"Yesdar," Griswa murmured, his voice low. "It's here."

Without hesitation, Yesdar knelt beside the figure, the cold biting at his knees through the snow. His hand hovered over the ice, fingers spread, commanding the world around him with the ease of one accustomed to bending reality to his will.

"Fire Commanding: Hand Candle."

The flame that flickered into existence above his palm wasn't simply fire. It didn't burn, it didn't sear; instead, it hovered with an ethereal glow, as if the fire itself had learned to respect the world it had been summoned into. Yesdar brought the flickering flame close to the ice, its heat spreading slowly, deliberately, like a secret whispered in the dark. The ice began to melt, droplets of water sliding down in rivulets, freeing the frozen figure within.

This was no ordinary fire—Yesdar's control over the elements had evolved far beyond simply conjuring flames. Now, he commanded, he gave orders to the nature itself, drawing fire from the latent energy in the world around him.

"Malaes," Yesdar said, his voice taut, "Are you sure this is the only one? No one else suffering in this cold?"

Malaes's expression shifted, her features darkening with the weight of something unspoken. She had already known the answer before Yesdar had even asked. The intensity of her observation and gaze were sharpened by years of training. Her senses had reached out feeling the world beneath the snow and ice, tracing the faint lines of energy that crisscrossed the land like invisible threads. She betrayed a deep sadness as she spoke, her voice low and measured.