Justin’s senses slowly returned, the bitter cold biting into his skin. He felt a steady, rhythmic movement beneath him and heard the crunch of snow under heavy footsteps. A dull throb pulsed in his temples. Blinking to clear his mind, he realized he was no longer in his room at the Star of Elara. Instead, he was tied to the back of a massive, fur-covered creature—a frosthorn.

The beast plodded through the deep snow, carrying Justin like nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

He stirred, groaning softly, and that’s when Lila, walking beside him, noticed. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Justin! You’re awake!”

His mind reeled, his voice raspy as he spoke. “What…what happened? Where are we?”

Kargan fell back from his position and matched the frosthorn’s pace, his expression one of relief. “Justin! You’ve been out cold for two days straight!”

“Two days?” Justin repeated. That was twice as long as Erik Stormgale had suggested. “Can you at least untie these ropes?”

Eldrin, who had already fallen back to check on him, worked quickly to free the bindings. “Sorry, lad. We had to make do with the situation. Glad you’re back with us.”

Once loose, Justin groaned as he tried to stretch out his stiff muscles. The cold had made his limbs feel like blocks of ice. He slid off the frosthorn and landed clumsily in the snow, his legs weak.

“I guess you caught the Whitepeak Mercantile caravan?” Justin asked, his voice hoarse.

“Err…not exactly,” Lila said, steadying him. “We’ll explain, but first, keep moving. We can’t stop.”

Looking around, Justin quickly noticed two things: first, Bohemond was nowhere to be seen. And second, up ahead there was a figure Justin vaguely recognized—one of the Qilungit, with pale blue skin, dressed in white furs, and holding a bone-white staff. The sight sent a chill through him.

“Is that…?” Justin began.

“It’s a long story,” she said. “But first, are you okay?”

Justin nodded groggily, trying to gather his thoughts. The surroundings were unfamiliar, and Bohemond’s absence only deepened the mystery. “Start from the beginning. It’s been two days?”

“That’s right. We didn’t make the Whitepeak caravan. We were…forced into another plan.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed. “Did the Baron catch up?”

Lila nodded grimly. “Shadowflight spotted him just a few hours south of us yesterday morning. We didn’t have time to wait. So, we tried our luck with the Ghostwater Collective. That’s when things got complicated.”

Justin’s gaze shifted to the Qilungik leading the group. The figure moved with purpose, never looking back, his dark hair hanging halfway down his back.

“Complicated, how? If that’s the same guy who attacked us on the road, what's he doing here?”

“His name’s Ryak,” Lila explained. “He works for the Ghostwater Collective as a Road Guardian.”

“Okay. But how does that explain what he’s doing here, and why he attacked us?”

“We’ll get to that,” Kargan said. “He ran across us on the road because it’s his job to patrol the Frostplain Path, keeping it safe from raiders. He thought we were bandits. After we spared him, he realized we were just travelers. Later, he ran into the Baron, who was asking a lot of questions about us. He doubled back to Kaldrath to learn more.”

Eldrin continued, and for the first time, Justin noticed Shadowflight huddled on his shoulder. “We ran into him at the Collective trading house. He said he owed us for sparing his life and that the Baron was close. I told him a bit about our situation. He vouched for us with the Ghostwater Collective. Together with our letters from Stormgale, it was enough to get us out of Kaldrath without a fight. He said he was heading to his tribe with a frosthorn and some supplies, and he insisted we join him."

Justin took all of this in, nodding slowly. “And now he’s leading us…where?”

“Northeast,” Lila replied. “Ryak’s tribe is out that way. It’s remote enough that the Baron won’t follow. Hopefully.”

“And then from there, what?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Kargan admitted. “We were hoping you’d wake up before then.”

Justin glanced toward Ryak. The Cryomancer still hadn’t looked in their direction. It seemed they had been traveling for a while. If they’d left morning yesterday, then this would have been their second day out of Kaldrath. “Any signs of the Baron since we left?”

“Nothing,” Lila said.

Justin accepted some water from Eldrin’s canteen, his throat dry from the long sleep. He hesitated before asking his next question. “What about Bohemond?”

Lila’s expression darkened. “He…stayed behind. Said he was going to wait things out in Kaldrath then go south on his own later.”

Kargan grunted. “We figure he’s hoping the Baron will chase us out here, and that’ll give him the opportunity to head south on his own."

Justin had to admit, that might be a smart play. Probably safer than whatever it was they were doing.

“Bohemond’s made his choice,” Eldrin said. “He was…difficult to read. For all his grumbling, he came out with a Gold Level shield and a decent amount of experience. Assuming he makes it home in one piece, this would have been a profitable venture for him."

Justin wasn’t so sure Bohemond could avoid the Baron. He didn’t like the idea of him splitting off, but he supposed there was nothing to be done about it. “Does Bohemond know where we’re going?”

“No,” Eldrin said. “Ryak didn’t tell us until after we left Kaldrath.”

“And Ryak?” Justin asked, nodding toward the Cryomancer. “Can we trust him?”

“I think so,” Eldrin said, his voice measured. “He’s helping us because he feels indebted. The Qilungit culture values reciprocity. But we should still be cautious. He may expect something more.”

Justin mulled it over but didn’t respond. He was grateful that Ryak had vouched for them, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into something they didn’t fully understand.

“What about the potion?” Kargan asked. “Did it work?”

Justin had nearly forgotten about that, though he didn’t see how. “Yeah, it worked. It’s powerful—far more than I expected.”

He explained how the potion had granted him a Mythic Boon, Elemental Affinity, allowing him to tap into the powers of the Eight Old Gods. He listed off the abilities: from the power to send secret messages on the wind to becoming immovable like a mountain.

“Right now, I’ve got Seraphis’ Clarity active,” Justin explained. “Between that and my Gentleman Focus, I’ve got a 20% dodge chance. Since Bohemond’s gone, maybe I can take over the tank role”

Eldrin raised an eyebrow. “That’s an enormous responsibility. But it has its merit. It'll free me up to focus more on offense and supporting with potions. You could grow into the role, Justin—just don’t get overconfident. You’ll have to lead and control the battlefield, become a wall that doesn’t allow danger to slip by. You have the tools for it with that new boon and your skills, so now it’s up to the execution.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Justin nodded, recognizing the wisdom of this. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Plus, you’ve got that Amulet,” Kargan added, his voice low, glancing at Ryak up ahead. “It’ll help. Even if your class isn’t meant to draw attention, I agree with Eldrin. You can grow into the role. If some of those hits find a way of sneaking through, well, I’ll keep you on your feet.”

Lila gave Justin a nod of approval. “You’ve come a long way, Justin. A long way. As long as I get to stay in the back line.”

Justin smiled at her rare compliment. “Thanks.” He glanced up at Ryak, still leading them forward through the snow. “I think it’s time I introduced myself properly to our new friend.”

Justin wasn’t sure if “friend” was the right word, but he couldn’t think of anything else right now. With that, Justin quickened his pace, walking ahead toward the enigmatic Cryomancer.

Ryak didn’t turn as Justin fell into step beside him. The Qilungik stood tall, his frame lean but strong beneath layers of thick white furs that seemed to blend into the snowy landscape. His skin, pale blue like ice, was adorned with intricate tribal tattoos etched into his cheeks. He looked like he was around forty or fifty, though with the Qilungit, age was hard to determine. His gaze was fixed ahead, unwavering,.

Justin cleared his throat. “Thank you for your help.”

The Qilungik showed no outward emotion, continuing forward across the snow with the same steady gait. After a pause, his voice broke the silence. “A debt of action can only be balanced by another action. Words do not weigh on the scales of the Qilungit.”

“I see. A pragmatist, then."

Apparently, this wasn't worthy of a response.

“Anyway, I’m Justin, for what it’s worth. I’m a Socialite. Words are important to people like me. They can move mountains, one might say.”

Ryak continued his steady march, his expression unchanged except for the faintest flicker of a smirk. “Words are wind, Southlander. The Path of Acts says that only actions carry weight in this world. One who can be swayed by words alone is as a child, moved by the breeze. Truth is not in spoken words, but in deeds. Only in action does one find a path forged in truth, not whispers.”

Justin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Guess we’re pretty different, then. Where I’m from, words are a weapon as sharp as any blade. Charisma is the power to shape perception with just a whisper.”

Ryak’s gaze remained steady as he replied. “Charisma is not something as simple as words, Southlander. Charisma is the gravity that bends the world to your will without the need to even whisper. Charisma is when Creation reacts to you, not because of what you say, but because of who you are.”

Justin watched Ryak with growing interest. “So, Charisma is luck.”

Ryak shook his head. “No, Charisma is not luck. Luck is random, fleeting. Charisma is the gravity of your being. It's what draws others to follow, what compels the world to take notice. Luck happens to you. Charisma is something you forge within yourself, and through it, you bend the currents of fate, not by chance, but by deeds.”

Justin smiled. If this was a Cryomancer, not even a Charisma class, Justin wondered what would happen if he ever met a Qilungik with the Diplomat class. "You have an interesting outlook, Ryak."

“We Qilungit value words with purpose. Speak only when your words can build, or when they can tear down, as needed. Anything less is a waste.” He glanced at Justin, his pale eyes gleaming. “A word of advice: if you wish to sway a Qilungik, do so with actions, not idle chatter.”

“Does this conversation qualify as that?” Justin asked with a half-smile.

“No,” Ryak said firmly. “This conversation is Wath’narr, the words that build. I am teaching you the way of seeing things. This brings enlightenment to both of us.”

Justin raised an eyebrow. “Wath’narr?”

Ryak continued, his voice steady. “In our tongue, it means ‘constructive speech.’ Words that serve a purpose, that illuminate or guide, are never wasted. This is how we pass on wisdom.”

Justin’s curiosity deepened. “And what about words that destroy?”

Ryak glanced at him. “We call those Vek’narr—words that unravel. They are powerful, but dangerous. To speak them is to dismantle what is built, to sow chaos and fracture bonds. We do not speak them lightly.”

“Sounds like something to avoid,” Justin said.

“Sometimes, destruction is necessary,” he said. “But it must always be used with caution. Words that destroy are like a spear—they can cut through the rot, but wielded carelessly, they can sever much more than intended.”

Justin nodded thoughtfully. “So, it’s about knowing when to use them?”

“Yes,” Ryak replied. “To destroy without understanding is folly. But when it is done with wisdom, it can clear the way for something to grow stronger.”

“I see,” Justin said. “Well, I would argue that all words, even ones that are apparently empty, have meaning, even if it’s hidden. And one with the right skills can discover that meaning and make use of it.”

Ryak remained silent for a moment, considering Justin’s words. “It’s not the words that inspire people, Southlander, but the action behind the words. Just as warriors would not follow a seal into battle, even if it roared like a bear. A leader’s strength is shown in what they do, not in what they say.”

Justin frowned, shaking his head. “I'm not sure I agree with that. If the army believes in the seal and fights harder because of it, then that’s all that matters, isn’t it? Perception drives action, not always reality.”

Ryak’s eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. “Perception is fleeting. When faced with real danger, the seal’s true nature is revealed. And those who follow it into battle will realize their folly when they are led to slaughter. Words can only mask the truth for so long.”

“Maybe,” Justin countered, “but perception creates belief, and belief can move mountains. I’ve seen people rally around something they believed in, even when the truth was less than heroic. If people believe the seal is a bear, and they fight as though they’re led by a bear, then that's more dangerous than a bear who acts like a seal.”

Ryak finally turned his gaze to Justin, his eyes colder than the surrounding air. “Belief can be powerful, yes. But truth…truth is unyielding. It will always reveal itself, no matter how well hidden behind words. When the time comes, would you prefer to fight beside those who believe in an illusion, or those who act with certainty, knowing the reality they face?”

Justin smiled wryly. “I guess that depends on whether the illusion wins the fight.”

Ryak’s piercing blue eyes gazed into the distance. “So, what are you, Southlander? Are you real, or are you an illusion? Are you a bear or a seal?”

“I am whatever I need to be to survive,” Justin replied, his voice steady. “Both creatures survive in the wild, and both have their place and strategies. Each mask is useful, depending on the situation. In your philosophy, perhaps the act of putting on a mask is itself a form of truth. Truth simply is, even if it’s hidden.”

“Perhaps,” Ryak allowed. “But it would be interesting for your words could be put to the test.”

Justin frowned, sensing a trap. “How so?”

Ryak turned back toward the frosthorn and the others. “I overheard your conversation with your companions back there. Don’t act surprised; we Qilungit have sharp senses.” Ryak faced forward once more, nodding into the distance. “There ahead lies danger, though you or even your Ranger friend haven’t sensed it yet. An ice specter blocks our path, and you mentioned you were interested in taking a leader’s role, given your new abilities.” The Qilungik turned his icy blue eyes to Justin. “In our philosophy, words mean nothing unless followed by action.”

“Ice specter?” Justin raised an eyebrow. “What is that? Sounds dangerous.”

“Very dangerous,” Ryak said, his voice calm. “They are fast, ethereal, vengeful spirits—the remnants of a Qilungik mage who delved too far into Death or Chaos magic and paid for it. They wield these dark forces alongside ice magic, and they can kill a group of travelers in mere minutes, if unprepared. They are especially deadly for a freezing spell that can immobilize their targets.”

“And we’re just standing here talking about it?” Justin asked, glancing nervously ahead. “Can we not go around?”

“There is no point,” Ryak said steadily. “The specter will sense us, regardless.”

Just then, Eldrin rushed forward, his hand on his bowstring. Lila and Kargan followed closely behind.

“Something’s up ahead,” Eldrin said, his voice tense. “Fall in behind me.”

Ryak watched Justin closely for his reaction. Justin knew what that look meant. He wanted to see if his words had meant anything, whether he would take the part of the seal or the bear. Were his words to his friends a mask, or a genuine reflection of who he was as a person? Did his words have weight, backed up by action?

This test was more difficult than Justin would have believed.

“Wait a minute, Eldrin,” Justin said, surprising himself. “I’ll take the lead this time.”

“Justin, now isn’t the time for proving a point,” Eldrin said, frowning. “Something dangerous is ahead, and I’m not risking it.”

“It’s an ice specter,” Ryak said, his tone as measured as ever. “Very dangerous.”

Justin hesitated for a split second, feeling the weight of his earlier words. Until now, he'd always been content to say on the sidelines, using his charm to influence situations, and get a few hits in here and there.

Now, though, he had to choose.

Without allowing himself to overthink, he decided.

[Affinity chosen: Ulthara’s Calm. Become utterly serene, no matter the danger. Grants immunity to Fear and Petrification effects.]

A wave of tranquility washed over Justin, his anxiety melting away like snow before a flame. Ulthara’s Calm wouldn’t aid directly in combat, but it was enough to keep Justin’s nerves in check.

He’d need more than just calm, but for now, he needed to steady his nerves.

Eldrin shot him an uncertain glance as Lila and Kargan caught up.

“Here’s the plan,” Justin said, his voice steady. “I’ll draw the specter’s attention while the rest of you attack from the sides. Eldrin, fire arrows from a distance; if it proves ineffective, move in to engage with your sword from the flanks. Lila, use your knives and Bardic Inspiration to buff Coordination. Kargan, Sacrificial Armor and heals if necessary. Don’t use Knives of Fury; the specter can just go around it and you’re just as likely to hurt us. Ryak, hit it with whatever magic you’ve got, just make sure it's precise.”

The Qilungik nodded solemnly. Justin felt a surge of confidence, noting the slight buff to his Perception—likely Ryak’s party skill. For the first time, he realized Ryak had formally joined the party while he'd been knocked out.

“Let’s move,” Justin said.

Justin walked ahead of the others, preparing his mind for the confrontation.