The Mythos Trials

Chapter Twenty-Two, Part One

As extravagant as Eurus's palace had been, Boreas's castle topped it with its glacial elegance. Nearly everything was made of ice, but even the ice sculptures Gwen had often admired during the winter festivals back home couldn't hold a candle to the towering walls around her. Coloured lights, so like the aurora borealis—and by extension, the Spectrum's own ether—chased each other up large columns of frosted ice, rippling in the hues of a rainbow.

The guards stationed along the battlements paid them no mind, beyond a quick bow in Boreas's direction. Boreas led them through the main gate, beneath a portcullis of thick, clear ice, and into the inner keep. Snowy walls and walkways dotted the keep from one end to the other, though there was little else to be seen besides the castle walls. A long, winding staircase led from the keep and into the courtyard, where yet more columns of ice filled with ethereal light supported an overhang leading into the main hall.

Gwen spotted ice statues here and there; some glinting with ethereal light, others bathed in the soft glow of the sun overhead. With so much beauty surrounding her, it was easy to forget about the cold, forget about the fatigue and soreness lacing every fibre of her body.

The staircase eventually gave way to a stairwell, enclosed with gently sloping walls as Gwen and the others were guided toward the very top. Gwen allowed her hand to ghost over the banister, feeling its coolness through the thick padding of her black gloves, and pulling her hand away to see colourful ice crystals clinging to her woollen fingertips.

A set of double doors loomed at the top, a figure swathed in a cloak of pure white and fringed with brown standing before them.

"Welcome back Lord Boreas, esteemed guests." The figure bowed, tresses of long, blond hair falling about his face like a curtain. When he straightened, Gwen's attention was instantly drawn to his eyes, glowing with the same intensity as Forneus's electrical powers; brilliant indigo, with hints of darker blue toward the pupils.

"Cairus, if you would be so kind as to supply our guests with refreshments," said Boreas, waving a massive hand in Gwen's direction, "and perhaps some of that hearty soup for Miss Gwen. You know, the kind the Ignisia supplied us with during our last trade?"

Cairus dipped into another bow, the thin tips of his pointed ears poking through the thin strands of his hair. "Your will be done, Lord Boreas." With that he vanished down the stairs, his footfalls making barely any sound as he turned down a right-hand corridor Gwen hadn't noticed before.

"You must be exhausted after your ordeals. Would you like a room while I discuss matters with your companions?" Boreas raised his hand, as if preparing to summon another servant if necessary.

Gwen shook her head. "No, I'm all right, thank you. I'd rather hear about what's been happening on Earth." And if my parents are still okay.

"If you're certain. Please, come this way." Boreas pulled open one of the doors, leading them into a corridor with amethyst and citrine base boards and door frames. From there, they entered a circular antechamber, decorative tables and vases pressed up against its walls. A mosaic made of semi-precious stones spanned it from end to end, depicting figures clad in elegant, flowing robes, and still others in battle armour atop carriages.

The gods? Gwen had the fleeting impression that the one with a broad sword in hand looked a lot like Mars before Boreas led them through another arched door and down a myriad of hallways, finally reaching a large area that must have been his throne room. She craned her neck to stare at the vaulted ceilings high above, easily taller than her house stacked on top of itself three times, with yet another mosaic mural depicting the gods spanning the entire ceiling.

Ice pillars, carved in the Corinthian style, stood in neat rows on either side of the room, coloured lights dancing beneath their ribbed, glass-like surfaces. At least a dozen arched windows spanned from a few feet off the floor to where the ceiling curved, letting in the sun's pale, yellow light through the constant flurry of snow. At the far end of the hall was a throne carved of ice, large enough that if Gwen had sat in it, she was sure her feet would dangle more than a few inches off the floor.