CHAPTER 34

The small town of Tresh, nestled on the outskirts of the Silver Mountains, was a hub for travelers heading toward the north. It was the last place to gather supplies, take a moment of respite, and hear the latest news before heading into the Frozen Wastes. I had heard of the town during my travels—how merchants, adventurers, and even hunters would stop here before making their way into the more treacherous parts of the world.

The cold here was nothing compared to what was waiting for me in the Frozen Wastes, but even now, I could feel the bite of winter settling into my bones. I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders as I entered the town’s main square, my breath misting in the air. The streets were bustling with activity despite the early morning hour—people loading carts, merchants shouting over one another to advertise their goods, and adventurers preparing for their own journeys.

I had one goal here: to prepare for what lay ahead.

I found an inn near the edge of town, its wooden beams covered in a thick layer of frost, and booked a room for the night. The innkeeper, a stout man with a thick beard and a tired expression, handed me a key without much fuss.

“Here for supplies?” he asked, his voice gruff.

I nodded. “Heading north. Need to be ready.”

He gave me a long look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “North, eh? You’re not the first to try that. Most don’t come back.”

“I’m not most,” I said simply, pocketing the key and heading toward the stairs.

His grunted response followed me as I climbed up to my room, the wood creaking under my boots. The room was small and sparse, but it was warm, and that was all that mattered.

I set my pack down on the bed, pulling out the list I had made of everything I needed. This was a solo mission, and Alric had made it clear that I wouldn’t have the luxury of backup. Everything I needed, I would have to carry with me or find along the way.

The next morning, I headed out to gather the supplies. The market was bustling with activity, and I could feel the weight of the journey ahead pressing down on me as I moved from stall to stall, buying what I needed.

Furs and heavier cloaks to shield me from the cold. Provisions that would last through the harsh weather. Extra firewood, bundled tightly in my pack. Potions and salves, just in case I found myself in a fight with more than just the cold.

I also made sure to stock up on traveling gear, including rope, a small shovel, and various tools I would need to set up camp in the snow. The cold of the Frozen Wastes was said to be unlike anything I had experienced before, and I wasn’t about to underestimate it.

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After several hours of gathering supplies, I found myself standing outside the blacksmith’s forge. The heat from the fire inside was a welcome contrast to the biting chill of the morning air, and I stepped inside, feeling the warmth settle over my skin.

The blacksmith was a tall woman with strong arms, her hands blackened from the forge. She glanced up as I entered, wiping the sweat from her brow.

“Looking for something specific?” she asked, her voice rough but not unkind.

I nodded. “Something durable for the cold. A weapon that won’t freeze in my hands.”

She smirked. “You’re heading north, aren’t you? Most people don’t bother with new gear before going that way. They figure if the cold doesn’t kill them, the demons will.”

“I’m not most people,” I said, echoing my words from earlier.

She studied me for a moment, then nodded toward the back of the forge. “I’ve got something that might interest you. Wait here.”

I watched as she disappeared into the back, the sound of clanging metal echoing through the forge. When she returned, she was carrying a short sword with a handle wrapped in dark leather. The blade gleamed in the firelight, its surface etched with intricate designs.

“This one’s treated to withstand the cold,” she said, holding it out for me to inspect. “Won’t crack or freeze, no matter how low the temperature gets. It’s a bit pricier than most, but it’ll keep you alive longer than a standard sword.”

I took the weapon, feeling its weight in my hands. It was lighter than I expected but perfectly balanced. I could feel the magic imbued within the blade, a faint hum in the Aetheric Flow that told me this sword was more than just a simple tool.

I handed her the payment without hesitation. If I was going to survive the Frozen Wastes, I needed the best equipment I could find.

By the time the sun began to set, I had everything I needed. My pack was heavy with supplies, and the new sword hung at my side, ready for whatever the journey would throw at me. But despite the preparations, there was a weight in my chest that I couldn’t shake—a feeling that this mission would push me further than I had ever been pushed before.

As I sat by the fire in the inn’s common room that night, I took out a magic messenger scroll and began writing a letter to Alric. It had been a few days since we last spoke, but I knew he would want an update before I headed north.

“Alric,” I wrote, “I’m preparing to leave Tresh tomorrow. The supplies are packed, and I’ve heard the latest rumors about the Frozen Wastes. The cold is supposed to be worse than anything I’ve faced, but I’m ready. I’ll send another message once I’m closer to the Wraith’s territory.”

The parchment folded itself into a small bird, glowing faintly with magic before it fluttered out of the inn and into the night, heading south toward Alric.

I sat back, staring into the fire. This was it. Tomorrow, the real journey would begin.

The morning came quickly, and as I stepped out of the inn, the cold air hit me like a wall. The town was quieter now, the early risers just beginning their day as I made my way toward the northern gate. My breath came out in clouds, and I could feel the weight of my pack pressing down on my shoulders.

I glanced back at the town one last time before turning north. There was no turning back now. The Frozen Wastes awaited me, and beyond them, the Frost Wraith.

The wind howled as I stepped onto the open plains, the snow already beginning to pile up beneath my boots. I could feel the faint pulsing of the Aetheric Flow beneath the surface, subtle but present. The Frost Wraith was out there, waiting, but I wouldn’t rush this.

The journey north would be long, but I was ready.