Time passed, and the Windrider reached the Summerlands, where the north rose out of the sea.

Tarka had thought that the Summerlands had meant it was always a warm summer, but Yarik said it was quite the opposite. The Summerlands made up of a stretch of islands, coastline, land and sea, that existed only in the summer. In the winter, he explained, the cold crept down from the north, covering land and sea alike in ice and snow. Had they come at the end of summer, the Windrider would have gotten caught in the pack ice before they’d reached Yarik’s village.

“Shouldn’t it be the Winterlands then?” Tarka asked. “Since the sea is covered in ice in winter.”

“Not just the winter, but the autumns and springs as well,” Yarik explained. “It’s called the Summerlands, because it’s only in the summer when you can see land!”

The nights were short as they sailed north, but the dark crept down with the cold. The thin arcs of the rings grew into wide bands of light once more, and for the first time in Alika’s life, they no longer pointed north.

It was one of those cold, dark nights when they saw their first ice. A flat, white semi-polygonal piece floated past them, Yarik steering around it. His fingers tapped, nails scraping against wood.

“That’s no good,” he muttered. “No good at all.”

“What’s no good?” Alika asked.

“It’s too early in the summer for ice,” Yarik explained. “Far too early.”

“Maybe Tasien is getting colder?” Snow suggested.

Yarik glared at her and shook his head. He shivered, clutching his arms around his chest. “I truly hope that’s not the case. My bones are chilled enough as it is.”

“Are we good to go?” Alika asked. “You said we’re reaching your village tomorrow.”

Yarik nodded. “Should be. It’s just one piece of ice.”

A cold winter wind was caught with Alika’s next breath, filling her lungs with freezing air and catching her by surprise. More chunks of ice were floating past the Windrider now. The stars all seemed to go out at once: a frigid white fog now rolled across the deck, hiding the sky from Alika. Further to the north it grew thick, a wall of snow barrelling toward them.

Alika’s gaze caught on the ice chunks again. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they were growing larger. The sea was freezing over.

“Something’s not right about this,” Alika murmured.

“What?” Snow asked. “A little snow never hurt anyone!”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Yarik replied. His face was barely visible anymore, the light of the rings almost doused. “Tarka, will you light this torch for me?”

Tarka did so. A moment later, and the Windrider was a speck of faint torchlight in the midst of the dark sea. Cold snow pelted down around Alika’s snout, catching in her fur. Ice formed out of nowhere in the ocean around them, spreading across its surface, consuming everything its touched.

The Windrider ground to a halt, screeching as her bows scraped the ice. Alika was thrown against the side of the ship, barely avoiding falling off the edge.

Beneath her, the water had entirely frozen over. They were trapped in ice, creeping up the wooden hull.

“Gust?” Alika called out, her heart beginning to pound. White ice now coated the Windrider, sneaking along its deck. Shards of snow and ice whipped around her, and now, she couldn’t even see Yarik’s torch.

The ice crept across her talons, freezing them to the deck. The snow clung to Alika’s fur, wrapping her in a cocoon. Alika couldn’t move — not just her frozen paws, but her entire body was still, trapped in ice.

It was hopeless. She felt empty, cold on the inside and out. There was nothing she could do. Nothing she did here mattered. All she could do was watch.

Summoning up thoughts of her mother was like digging through snow, but she managed to grasp ahold of them. Green light glimmered from her talons. What was she to do in this situation? What was her path?

No arcs of light came forth.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Her path ended here.

But now, she could see into the blizzard, and it was horrible.

Shapes drifted across the ice, slowly moving toward her. First one, then a dozen, then a hundred. Dragons, hundreds of them, and they were all here for her.

Wreathes of white wrapped around the center of the dragons’ procession. Alika could feel it, the cold radiating off it. It sucked the heat from her lungs, tearing at the fire in her belly. Even the air had frozen, its warmth and life stolen away by the terrible, all-consuming thing that stood at its center.

Despair. Dread.

Alika knew what was happening, and that made it worse. Once, her parents had seen it, from far, far away. The creeping frost, the cold of colds, the dark shapes, and their unnatural movements. Her parents had been spared, but Alika would not suffer that kindness.

They were here to take her, to make her one of them. ’s Clan was here for her.

An inaudible drum beat for Alika’s demise. With each beat, each of the dragons moved closer, all at once. Not a muscle twitched, not a leg stepped, they just moved. A beat, they were here, and the next beat, they were closer, as if time itself was frozen between each of their steps.

And now, they were clear. Dragons, all of them, with fangs and fur covered in an icy frost. The color had been drained from their fur, leaving all of them a dusty gray meant only for death. Their jaws hung half-open as if there were a final word they’d kept on their tongues, only for to have taken that as well.

But their eyes: it was that which was the most horrible.

For they had none.

Each dragon stared at Alika as if they could see her, their colorless eyesockets emptied out. It had been done cleanly, with no scars or marks, no crimson blood to ruin the perfect blandness. Yet each of them stared.

The inaudible drum beat sounded, and all at once, the dragons were now closer, though Alika had never seen them move. Their maws had twisted into grins as if they were happy to see Alika, to know that one more would soon join their ranks.

The drum beat again. Closer. So close that they could spread out their wings and touch the Windrider’s frozen hull.

Alika tried to scream, but she had no voice to scream with.

Let not into your death, lest you wake without a breath.

The dragons, or what was left of them, moved closer. They were at the side of the boat, and a moment later, they were on it. Closer, closer, with each beat of the drums, and now, so close that if they had breath, Alika could have felt it. Their claws were raised, ready to tear her apart, but Alika was not afraid of them. No, it was their eyeless gazes that froze her in fear, staring and grinning, a hundred eyeless gazes all welcoming her into their ranks.

The drum stopped as if it had never begun.

And stepped forward. The frozen air around consumed Alika, and she felt cold like she never had before, pulling herself into it.

Yet, Alika remembered poem. She what she had to do in order to save herself. All she had to do was and she would be safe.

Let into your death, .

For how could be scared? She was safe and sound on the with her all around her. They were there, just waiting to her.

Come to me, said, still hidden in the mists.

But Alika could . She still had with her, inside.

It was Alika’s time.

Alika her eyes.

It was too late for .

her heart.

would die.

long gone.

nothing

“Get back!” Yarik roared, his voice piercing the veil of white.

The torch flew from his hand over the edge of the Windrider, illuminating the world in light and shadow. It landed on the ice and skidded, spreading a line of multi-colored flame wherever it touched.

Yarik’s aim was true, and the torch rolled up to Nigel’s frozen forelegs. The fire spread across his icey body in a brilliant blinding blaze, hiding his figure from Alika. A rainbow of colors gleamed out from the fire, and for a moment, Nigel was as bright as a star in the sky.

Nigel stared at Yarik, not with the thousand stolen dragon eyes frozen within his body, but with his True Eyes, the ones which were no one could see.

Yarik stared back. Nigel could do nothing. He had no power here.

Nigel pulled the mist back over his body, cloaked once more within it. The eyeless dragons looming over Alika were gone, pulled back with him, their shadowy figures retreating into the white.

The ice melted into seawater. The veil of white snow gave way to the night.

The torch dropped beneath the waves with a splash, its light doused.

“That was my favorite torch,” Yarik grumbled.

Alika moved, almost surprised that she could. Arcs of light came forth from her talons, leading north once more.

He had almost gotten her, turned her into one of those horrible things, those dragons that were no longer dragons, doomed to an eternity of wandering the ice. She touched her eyes, just to make sure that they were still there.

“Well that was weird!” Snow yapped. “Is this normal weather for the Summerlands?”

“Ah, I’ve never seen anything like it before!” Yarik laughed. “But no harm seems to have been done.”

Alika stared at Yarik, expecting that he’d give her a wink, or some other clue that he’d been there with her. But there was nothing, not a hint of recognition. Was she the only one who had seen that?

“Look everyone! Look!” Tarka shouted, pointing a talon to the north. “Land!”

Where ice and snow had been only moments ago, a strip of land now broke the blue horizon, illuminated by the light of the rings.

“I almost thought I’d never see it again,” Yarik laughed. “Everyone, welcome to my home, Coldwater Bay!”