The days were starting to get shorter again. The sun set too early and the cold that seemed to be permanent fixture in the northern continent was becoming more pronounced with every day that passed.
Thar had no issues with the cold, he loved it, but even more he loved the snow storms that came with the shorter days of winter. Two winters ago, there was a storm so severe that it had kept them from travelling to the port town or the quarry for a few weeks. Thar was the only one who was able to make the deliveries of food to the workers at the quarry to keep them from dying of hunger. He had spent so long there that winter, keeping the cold at bay, and had consumed more of it than he could ever remember.
While he could calm the storms and the cold down to keep the workers going, he could not do it every day. No matter how much his mahee told him otherwise. No matter how many days he had done so in row, weeks of it without stopping, two winters ago. It felt so wide and open, all the time, as if running water that would never end or a dam that was overfilled.
The liquid feeling inside him made him nauseous more days than it did not. The reason behind that feeling had him angry. His anger was as cold as the winter days. It made crystals form in his veins that itched and begged to be released. It made his fingers twitch and his palms harden, the vivid feeling of releasing his sword and holding its grip tight. He could not afford to release it here, not with so many eyes on him, but he felt it begging for freedom.
His mahee urged him to release his sword the same way it insisted for him to calm those cold days, to keep it warm. He enjoyed the snow storms too much, though. He loved it when the dark clouds overhead disappeared as snow fell and then everything was covered in the endless white of winter.
A white that had never felt so comforting before.
One late morning, when the sun had yet to rise but it was already hours past the usual starting workday, Thar awoke due to the headache that seemed to have taken permanent residence right between his eyes the past few months. The heat of the body next to him was uncomfortable and made him twitchy. Eliza rarely slept in so late.
He glanced over at her sleeping form only to see her face was flushed red with heat. It made him want to drop the temperature to freezing. He already slept in the nude, too hot in the tiny snow house that he shared with Eliza, but the heat coming off from her seemed unnatural.
He nudged her, and she grunted, turning away from him. A moment later, she turned back and plastered her naked body against his. She moaned.
“So cool,” she mumbled. The heat coming from her was anything but.
Thar kissed her forehead only to feel that heat on his lips and then surge down his throat and settle in his core.
“You are sick,” he mumbled right back.
Eliza grunted something, maybe an acknowledgement, but still did not open her eyes.
“I am going to—”
“Stay,” she interrupted him, grabbing him with burning hands. “You feel cool. It’s nice.”
Thar hated how she slurred some of her words, blending them together. He hated the heat coming off her even more.
“Stay here,” he told her. “I will go get you some medicine.”
“No,” she protested. She was too weak to hold him down though. He extracted himself from her grip and then out of the bed. Almost immediately, the temperature in his body dropped. He let out a sigh of relief. A look back revealed that Eliza was still flushed with heat, even though her body was trembling with shivers. He covered her with the thick furs he usually ignored. It was strange sharing a bed with a mortal who was so susceptible to the weather, but it was not his first time. He knew his lower body temperature was not something most enjoyed. It was nice when they did and though the thought tempted him to crawl into bed beside her once more, the heat was enough to stifle him.
Eliza sometimes toyed with his mahee, playing with the temperature inside their shared room in a way that had him both frustrated and aroused. Too often, she did it when he felt his mind wandering and he thanked her for it every time. Thar found the clump of ore among her clothes on the chair. He hated touching it, something about it felt so wrong, but Eliza found comfort in it. He released just enough of his mahee for the ore to absorb it, then tucked it into Eliza’s loose hand.
She fought the furs, trying to get them off. Thar tucked them tight around her, then dropped a few more, making it too heavy for her weak body. She protested. She had yet to open her eyes.
Then he felt it, the temperature dropping. Even barely conscious, she was able to use his mahee. She stopped shivering under the furs and settled in deeper. Thar wondered if she knew she was using his mahee, taking the heat from her body and cooling herself down. Her breathing evened out in sleep within moments. The temperature rose again, but she was already asleep.
Thar put on his underrobe, a white silk with silver embroidery on it that could never match with Lemysire’s skills. The edges of the robe were frayed and there were stains that he had been unable to wash out. Lemysire had rarely complained about his lower temperature when they shared a bed in the past.
With a deep inhale that collected as much of the cold in the house as he could, he left.
It was still dark out, the sun already rising but the clouds overhead hiding its warmth. Thar took in another large breath of cold air, letting it settle into his body and refresh him. It cooled the sweat on his skin from having slept so close to someone so warm and their activities the previous night. When did Eliza get sick? She seemed fine the previous day.
There were a few people out and about, more now that the construction was well on its way, but Thar did not see who he was looking for.
Yaling had come a few days ago. Thar had done his best to avoid her, wanting to keep himself from asking why she was there and where D’Argen was. He knew D’Argen was not there. He knew D’Argen had not come even close to the northern continent. He could still feel the runner, somewhere to the south and not there. It had been an itch that Eliza’s warmth had soothed.
But her warmth had also made it worse. Thar hated the heat.
After asking for directions from a mortal, he made his way to the wooden building Halen used as his workshop. As soon as he was inside, the heat of the room had him stiffening. There was a fire burning in the corner, a spell that made it stronger, and three Never Born all in short sleeves leaning over the table in the middle. His entrance made some of the cold enter, but it quickly dissipated once the door was closed again. Thar felt sweat break out on his skin again.
“Thar,” Haur greeted from the table with a tight smile. Halen and Yaling nodded in greeting. “We may need your help today. Halen says we cannot wait any longer to dig, but it seems there may be a storm today.”
Thar nodded in agreement, but he focused on Yaling as he said, “One of the mortals is sick. Can you help her out?”
Yaling’s entire expression darkened, but she nodded. She left without even asking who it was or to put on some of the warm furs. The cold from the open door at his back was pleasant, even though Yaling’s own treatment of him was not. It confused him and when he focused on Haur and Halen, the other two did not seem happy either. He wanted to ask what it was, but the heat was suffocating enough to have him ignore it. He wanted to be out of the building.
“When do you want to start?” he asked Halen.
The builder nodded, as if the question required a yes or a no. After shuffling through a few of his papers, he collected two pieces and then said, “I will ask for you when we need you.” He walked out as well.
Thar felt like Halen had been avoiding him, but he was too hot to ask it.
Haur, however, did not seem to have any issues with either the heat or keeping quiet.
“They are worried,” Haur explained. “You have been very close with the mortals, recently.”
“There are only the four of us here. Vishyan is at the quarry.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
Thar shrugged in reply. The action made him tense immediately afterwards and he cleared his throat before speaking slowly, “It is not the first time.”
“And it will not be the last,” Haur added with a heavy sigh. “Look. We have all been… tense recently.”
“I have not noticed,” Thar was surprised by the sarcasm that came out with his words. He hated it and bit his tongue to keep any more words from escaping without his permission. Only once he thought out his words and tone carefully did he say, “I am curious as to why.”
“You know why.”
“If I did, I would not be curious.”
“Curious, but not enough to ask it.” Haur was starting to sound angry.
“I just did,” Thar replied.
“That was not a question.”
Thar hummed and then nodded. He raised his chin in deference to someone of a higher rank and in apology. Haur’s tense shoulders dropped at the action and then he hung his head.
“I apologize,” Haur said. “I have been… there is something off.”
“Something is off?”
“Something is not right.”
“I know what you meant. I am asking for an explanation.”
“You do not feel it?”
Thar shook his head in answer.
Haur let out a sound of frustration and raked a hand through his short fringe.
“Yaling has been feeling it since she moment she came. She said we are too used to it,” Haur said. “She said we are giving the mortals too many freedoms. She almost sounded like Acela, when she said it.”
“They are not slaves,” Thar said, his voice becoming harder.
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“That is not what I meant!” Haur snapped, the anger at a boiling point. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The heat inside the room increased. Thar opened his collar a little more but instead of relief, the heat snuck down his robes. He opened his mahee just enough to—
“Stop that!” Haur snapped once more, the calm too short. “That is the problem.”
“My mahee?”
“Your excess use of it,” Haur explained.
Thar closed it off. The heat was making his skin turn pink.
“We all know there is… ugh…” Haur cut himself off suddenly with a groan. He rubbed the heel of his palm against one of his eyes so hard that the skin there became pale from the pressure. “They are collecting your mahee,” Haur whispered. He then rubbed both eyes. His face looked pained.
Thar was not sure whether to be worried about the words or whatever it was that Haur was feeling. He focused on the latter, stepping closer to his old friend. Haur dropped his hands from his face before Thar could stop the action himself. Then Haur threw his head back, revealing his throat in a move that had Thar wanting to double-check all the doors were closed and that there was no one else around them.
“There is something wrong with this place,” Haur groaned out, facing the ceiling. “It was not like this before, was it?” he whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“It… does it—I-I…” Haur stammered uncharacteristically. “It feels like that cursed pillar.”
Thar tensed. He had been avoiding thinking about that place since the second they left it. Mostly, it was his own avoidance. Yet now, as Haur’s words forced him to remember it, the pressure between his eyes increased. Then he remembered that white space, where he used the pillar to protect D’Argen.
Was it all a dream? An illusion? A conjuring of his nightmares that felt too real to be comfortable? He had not had a chance to talk with D’Argen about it. Nor did he want to. That same pillar had appeared in his dreams too many times in the past few years, always forcing him to wake up covered in sweat and his mahee clamouring to run away.
Thar was never one to run away before. He was able to shove the feelings down as far as he could, until D’Argen awoke and those horrible dreams stopped. The dreams of the white space, however, did not leave him. Not when he ached for it with every snow fall and winter storm.
“—leaving soon.”
“What?” Thar asked, only catching the last of Haur’s words.
“I said, Yaling is leaving soon. She only came for a bit and does not want to stay the winter.”
“Why was she here?” Thar asked, the question coming out too fast.
“Looking for—” Haur cut himself off and finally, finally lowered his head, protecting his throat. He stared at Thar with narrowed eyes. “She should be done with Eliza. Go check on them both. Halen will call for you when we need you.” There was a tone behind his words that felt too much like an order.
Thar tilted his chin up in respect and obeyed.
When he closed the door behind him into the cool outside, he heard something loud crash. Then he heard Haur swear. Then wood breaking.
Something was indeed ‘off’. Haur had always been good at keeping his temper in check, even back during the demon wars where what felt like every other Never Born was angry with Thar. Even back when the verdict came, almost a thousand years ago, of the First Five chaining his mahee down. Haur had been the one to fight to his defense, but never with anger or frustration.
On the walk back to Eliza and the snow house they shared, he saw Yaling.
“She will be fine,” Yaling said without slowing her stride. “Give her a few hours to sleep it off.”
Thar nodded his thanks. Yaling scoffed and hurried her steps, disappearing behind him.
Everything was off. Thar wondered if Haur and Yaling had talked about the pillar. Of the Never Born here, only the three of them were there at the time. Haur had a confidant in Nocipel, the two usually more attached than lovers would be, yet Nocipel had not visited in months.
As soon as he entered the snow house, that thought was gone. Eliza was sleeping, but there were two other figures near the bed. Her parents.
Thar tilted his head in the mortal custom as a greeting.
“Don’t worry,” Leena, Eliza’s mother smiled. It looked forced. “She used to get these fevers all the time as a child. It will pass.”
Thar nodded. He had not seen any such fevers even once in the two years they had been sharing a bed. With both her parents there to watch her, Thar felt awkward. He made a show of looking for the rest of his clothes.
“Oh, Thar! Do you mind…?” Leena trailed off, though she did hold out a clump of ore.
Thar did not even think, he took the fist-sized metal, focused on it, and released his mahee. The way the temperature in the house remained even as he released the cold was strange, no matter how many times Thar had already done this for them.
“Thank you,” Leena smiled when she took the ore back. “I will stay with her to keep her warm.”
Thar nodded. Once he had his over-robes on, he left the house. As soon as he was outside again, he stopped and took a deep breath. How was it possible for them to be in the cold, in the winter months, and for him to feel such heat?
“She used too much,” Thar heard Leena whisper through the door.
He did not want to stay and listen in, but his feet did not move.
“Well, there are five of them here,” Eliza’s father responded. He sounded tired. “I’m surprised she can even still…” he trailed off, his voice too quiet for Thar to hear the words clearly.
It was not a good thing, to eavesdrop, but these were Eliza’s parents. They had not made any protest at all when Eliza first introduced them to Thar, holding his hand and her cheeks burning with a blush as she told them of their relationship. They had both seemed wary, but accepted Thar, even though he was… not one of them.
It was always a hit or miss when in a relationship with a mortal. Thar did not understand how someone’s parents could have such a huge influence on an individual, but that was because he never had them. He could not even think of anyone to compare the relationship with. Parents. Children. Siblings.
Siblings, maybe. He could claim Haur as a brother. But, then again, he could also do the same every other Never Born, and he knew that most mortal cultures looked down upon being in love or sharing a bed with your own siblings.
“—when she leaves,” Leena’s words pulled Thar back out of his thoughts.
When who left? Was Eliza going somewhere?
Then Thar noticed Halen walking toward him. He quickly stepped away from the house before Eliza’s parents would realize he overheard them. Only when he felt he was far enough away did he greet Halen verbally.
“We are going to get started, if you are not otherwise occupied,” Halen said.
Thar nodded and motioned for Halen to walk so Thar could follow.
“We already have one of the holes dug out, but I want you to go in there and check if we need to dig deeper for the support beams. Make sure the ground is hard enough to hold them.”
“Understood,” Thar nodded.
When they arrived at the hole in question, it was nothing but a dark circle with a wooden construct over it. It was just wide enough for the small platform that could hold two people to go down. Thar and Halen descended together. Thar watched the rope slide through the wooden wheels as the platform lowered him further and further.
For some reason, he felt like that rope should have been frayed. No. Cut. No, frayed. Cut. The headache between his eyes had his vision blurring. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and then used one of Abbot’s spells to light the tunnel as he descended too far for the light above to reach them.
#
When Darania arrived in the north a year later, it was a quiet affair that would have gone completely unnoticed, if not for how Thar’s mind cleared. He did not realize what was happening, so used to the constant headache and the slight blur of his thoughts, that when he first saw Darania’s short form and the dark of her furs against the white of the snow, he thought he was imagining things. Dreaming again.
But he had not dreamed of anyone other than D’Argen in over a year.
Darania’s face was creased with concern when she stopped in front of him. She did not say anything, only reaching out with one hand. Thar did not lower his head, he did not want to show disrespect. Instead, he bent over so her fingers could touch his forehead. As soon as they did, the headache disappeared and it felt as if he had been congested and it was suddenly gone.
He cleared his throat when Darania’s cold fingers left him.
“I did not know the God of Ice can catch a cold,” Darania said. It sounded both mocking and worried at the same time. It was a strange combination that made Thar question his own sanity of why he thought she sounded like that.
“It was not a cold,” Thar protested. “What are you doing here?”
“I have been sending messages and received no replies. I was starting to get worried.”
“Messages?” Thar asked. Then he thought about. He had not felt the tingle of magic at the corner of his jaw in… weeks? Months? Could it even be years? Not even from Acela or Vah’mor, asking for updates or checking on them. True, Haur and Halen were also there, so they could have caught the messages before Thar, but to miss them all?
“—not the only one. I am starting to feel ignored.”
“I apologize, can you repeat that?” Thar asked, realizing he had missed her words. He had been missing a lot recently, it felt like it. Sometimes, he found himself sitting with the mortals at dinner and the meal was over before he even took his first bite, yet his plate was always empty and his belly full.
Darania’s eyes narrowed. She looked worried. She looked around them and Thar did the same. It was night. A moment ago it had been morning. Something…
“Something is off,” he whispered, the words tasting strange on his tongue.
“So it seems,” Darania confirmed. “Where are the others?”
“Arou—sleeping, most likely,” he corrected himself.
“And you? You do not sleep anymore?”
Did he? He nodded because he remembered waking up that morning. He remembered dreaming of D’Argen the last few nights in a row.
He did not remember the last time he actually went to bed.
Darania was starting to look more and more worried. “Thar,” she said his name, a command in her tone, “Open your mahee.”
“But I—”
“Open it. Now,” she ordered.
Thar obeyed. It was already opened—
It opened wider. Wider than he had ever thought possible. The night became so dark that even the few fires of their camp faded away into nothing. The scent of their fire, like sunshine on a summer day, went out when a howling wind blew those fires out. The chill that picked up the snow at their feet slipped into his robes and cooled the sweat on his skin. He had not even realized he was sweating. That he was warm. The cold surrounded him and came from within, all the scents in the air cleared, his throat opened up and—
The scent of wet earth, fresh and ready for growth, reached for him in a comforting embrace. Thar accepted it, he took it into himself, he moulded it, he breathed it in and it came out like dew on morning grass, it had a tint of salt to it, it was the ocean and the earth and the wind and then nothing at all as his mahee’s clean scent overpowered it all and drowned it into nothing at all.
There was a yell in the distance.
Darania’s voice right by his ear replied, though he did not understand her words. Honey tried to penetrate the shell of nothingness, but he covered it up with such ease that it surprised even him. Only for a moment.
“Calm down,” he heard Darania’s words at last, another command. An order.
One that he obeyed without thinking.
The air was so cold that Darania’s breath turned into a thick mist as she shivered on the spot. He immediately pulled the cold into himself—
“No. Release it,” she ordered, her frame shivering.
He did not want to. He obeyed. Haur stumbled through the cold, his hands shaking with the cold. He was holding thick furs that he threw around Darania’s tiny shoulders, bundling her up.
“What was that?” Haur asked, his voice hoarse as if he had been yelling. Or as if the cold was so sharp that it scraped his throat raw.
Darania did not answer. Thar did not know how.
Through her shivers and clattering teeth, Darania asked them for a place to go inside. Halen was already stoking the fire in his workshop when they entered. He looked tired, but his eyes were clear. He had a pot of water boiling over the fire and as soon as it whistled, he filled three mugs with the hot water. He did not even bother to put herbs in it.
Haur had to clear his throat with every sip he took. Halen kept the clay cup against his cheek when he was not drinking from it. Darania was cradling it against her chest.
“Thar, why did you do that?” Haur finally asked, his body still quaking with small shivers. His fingers looked blue.
“Because I told him to,” Darania answered, her eyes never straying from Thar. “How long have you had your mahee open?” she asked him.
“What? He has—”
“Just now,” Thar interrupted Haur to answer himself.
“Are you sure?” Darania asked. A single white brow almost met her hairline. “Because this? This is what the north has always felt like. Not warm enough to wear barely anything at all in winter.”
“What do you mean?” Haur asked trying to interject himself into the conversation. “It has—”
“You have been consuming the cold this entire time,” Darania said, as if it was a fact. “From what Yaling told me, you have been doing so for at least a year.”
“What? No,” Haur rejected.
Darania ignored him.
Thar looked at the steam rising from her cup.
“What did you scent earlier?” Darania asked then took a sip from her hot water.
“Earth,” Thar replied. “You.”
“And?”
“And…” Thar trailed off, his eyes wandering to Haur. He had scented the man’s mahee so he said, “Honey.”
“Before that.”
Thar did not want to answer. He locked eyes with Haur and knew that he had to. “Dew.” Haur dropped his steaming cup. Lilian’s scent. It had been so clear a moment earlier.
“And?” Darania prompted again.
“The ocean,” Thar gritted it out. D’Argen’s scent felt like a permanent fixture in his mind. He had not even realized it was missing until it assaulted him a moment ago.
“And?” Darania prompted, once more. She seemed expectant.
Thar finally looked at her again. He did not scent anything else. It was—
“Sunshine,” she said.
And then Thar realized what that meant because she was right. The fires that always burned around the camp, they reminded him of sunshine on a warm summer day. It made him think of the summers spent in Evadia, of Acela’s comfort and her guidance, of her mahee as she persuaded them…
“Somebody has been persuading you all,” Darania said, her voice harsh. She took another sip from her cup.
Thar was glad for that news only for one reason – it meant that Haur and Halen would focus on those words, not on the fact that Thar had somehow released both Lilian’s and D’Argen’s scents into the air around them.