CHAPTER 37

The days stretched on, each one colder than the last as I made my way deeper into the Frozen Wastes. The small group of traders and guards I traveled with had grown more tense as we pressed forward, their faces etched with weariness and caution. The vast expanse of snow and ice seemed endless, and the further we went, the more I could feel the Aetheric Flow around me warping, twisting under the weight of something far more powerful than anything I had encountered before.

I kept my cloak pulled tight against the cold, the bite of the wind constant and unrelenting. The Frost Wraith was still ahead of us, its presence lurking just beyond the horizon, but I hadn’t felt it yet—not directly. For now, it was a shadow, a presence I couldn’t shake, but one that stayed just out of reach.

The nights were the worst. We would make camp wherever we could find shelter, huddling close to the fire as the temperature plummeted with the setting sun. I took the time during these moments of rest to continue practicing the ice magic I had been slowly learning. It wasn’t easy, and even though I could feel the magic all around me, manipulating it was still a struggle. The cold magic resisted my control, as if the very elements themselves were testing me, daring me to understand them.

One evening, as we set up camp in the shadow of a large rocky outcrop, I noticed a faint disturbance in the Aetheric Flow. It was subtle at first, a small ripple that made the air feel heavier, but as I focused on it, I realized it was growing stronger. Something—or someone—was nearby.

The traders and guards hadn’t noticed it yet, too focused on getting the fire started and setting up their tents. I stood, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword as I scanned the horizon, my senses attuned to the Flow. The wind picked up, howling louder than before, and in the distance, I saw a figure moving toward us, a solitary shape against the endless white.

At first, I thought it might be another traveler, someone lost or looking for shelter, but the closer the figure came, the more I realized something was wrong. The Aetheric Flow around them was distorted, warping in ways that felt unnatural.

“Something’s coming,” I said, my voice low but firm.

The guards immediately stopped what they were doing, their hands going to their weapons as they followed my gaze. The traders, sensing the tension, huddled closer to the fire, their faces pale.

The figure drew closer, and as it did, I felt the temperature drop even further. It wasn’t just the cold of the Frozen Wastes—this was something different, something darker. The figure stopped just outside the range of the firelight, their features obscured by a thick hood and cloak.

“Who are you?” one of the guards called out, his voice wavering slightly.

The figure didn’t respond immediately. Instead, they lifted their head, and from beneath the hood, I saw the faint glow of red eyes. My grip tightened on my sword. This wasn’t a traveler. This was something else.

Before I could react, the figure raised a hand, and the Aetheric Flow shifted violently. A blast of cold magic surged toward us, and I barely had time to throw up a barrier, using the small amount of ice magic I had learned to deflect the attack. The air around me shimmered with frost as the magic collided with my barrier, the force of it sending me stumbling back a step.

The guards moved quickly, drawing their weapons and forming a defensive line in front of the traders, but I could tell they were outmatched. This wasn’t a normal bandit or rogue mage. The power this figure wielded was something far more dangerous.

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“Stay back,” I warned, stepping forward to face the cloaked figure. I could feel the Aetheric Flow pulsing around them, dark and cold, like the very air had turned to ice. This wasn’t the Frost Wraith, but it was something connected to it, something that carried the same twisted magic.

The figure laughed, a low, hollow sound that sent a chill down my spine. “You’re not like the others,” they said, their voice soft but carrying an unnatural edge. “You can feel it, can’t you? The magic of the wastes. The cold that lives here.”

I didn’t respond, my focus entirely on the Aetheric Flow as I prepared for their next attack. The figure raised their hand again, and this time, I felt the surge of magic coming before it hit. I reached out with my own magic, using what I had learned so far to twist the ice and cold around me, forming a shield of frost to absorb the blow.

The blast collided with the shield, shattering it into a spray of ice and snow, but I held my ground. My Analyze skill was working overtime, feeding me information about the figure’s movements, their magic, their weaknesses. They were strong, but they weren’t invincible. I could see the cracks in their defenses, the moments of hesitation where they left themselves open.

I took a deep breath, letting the Aetheric Flow guide me. The cold was no longer just an enemy—it was something I could use, something I could bend to my will. I focused on the ice beneath my feet, the snow in the air, and with a flick of my wrist, I sent a wave of frost toward the figure, catching them off guard.

They stumbled, their footing lost as the ice formed around them, and I seized the opportunity. I lunged forward, my sword cutting through the air with precision. The blade met its mark, slashing through the figure’s cloak and drawing a hiss of pain.

The figure staggered back, their red eyes glaring at me from beneath the hood. “You’ve learned quickly,” they said, their voice a mix of pain and admiration. “But you’re not ready for what’s coming.”

I stepped forward, my sword at the ready. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The figure laughed again, though there was less strength in it this time. “You’ll find out soon enough. The Frost Wraith is only the beginning. The cold... it’s only a taste of the power that lies beyond.”

Before I could strike again, the figure raised their hand one last time, and the Aetheric Flow surged around them, swirling with frost and wind. In an instant, they vanished, leaving nothing behind but a faint shimmer of ice in the air.

I stood there for a moment, my breath coming in slow, measured puffs as I scanned the area, but the figure was gone. The Aetheric Flow had returned to its normal state, the disturbance fading into the background.

The guards and traders were silent, their faces pale with fear and confusion.

“What was that?” one of the guards muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, sheathing my sword. “But whatever it was, it’s connected to the Frost Wraith.”

We continued our journey the next morning, though the mood had shifted. The encounter with the cloaked figure had shaken the group, and I could feel the tension in the air as we trudged through the snow. The Frozen Wastes had always been a place of danger, but now it felt like something more—something darker and more malevolent was stirring beneath the surface.

I couldn’t shake the figure’s words from my mind. “The cold is only the beginning,” they had said. What had they meant by that? And why had they been targeting us?

As I traveled, I kept my senses attuned to the Aetheric Flow, searching for any signs of another disturbance, but the landscape remained quiet. The cold pressed down on us with unrelenting force, but the magic that had been so twisted the night before seemed to have vanished.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the encounter had been a warning. The Frost Wraith was out there, but now I knew it wasn’t acting alone. Something far more dangerous was at play, and if I wasn’t careful, I would be caught in the middle of it.

That evening, as we set up camp, I pulled out another magic messenger scroll and wrote a brief report to Alric. I detailed the encounter with the cloaked figure, explaining the strange magic they had used and the warning they had given me.

“The cold is only the beginning,” I wrote. “I’m learning more about the ice magic here, but there’s something else at work. Something that goes beyond the Frost Wraith. I’ll continue to investigate, but I think we’re dealing with more than just a demon. There’s something darker in the wastes.”

The scroll folded itself into a bird and flew off into the night, disappearing into the darkness. As I watched it go, I felt a knot of unease settle in my chest. The journey was growing more dangerous by the day, and I knew that whatever was waiting for me at the end of this path, it wasn’t just a simple demon.