CHAPTER 38
The Frozen Wastes grew more desolate with each passing day. The white landscape stretched endlessly in all directions, and even the air itself seemed heavier, colder, as if the very essence of the place was weighing us down. The traders and guards were quieter now, the earlier conversations and casual banter replaced with tense silence as we trudged onward. The encounter with the cloaked figure had rattled them—and if I was honest, it had shaken me too.
I could still feel the lingering chill of the figure's magic in the Aetheric Flow, like a faint echo that wouldn’t go away. It had been connected to the Frost Wraith—that much was clear. But the figure’s words had raised more questions than answers. The cold is only the beginning, they’d said. It felt like a warning, but of what?
I focused on the path ahead, keeping my thoughts in check. I wasn’t here to get distracted by cryptic riddles. My mission was clear: find the Frost Wraith, test my growing abilities, and continue mastering the ice magic that was slowly revealing itself to me.
By late afternoon, we had reached a narrow pass between two towering cliffs, the wind howling through the jagged rocks like a beast searching for prey. The temperature had dropped even further, and the cold was now sharp and biting, tearing at my skin despite the heavy cloak I wore.
“We’ll need to find shelter soon,” one of the guards said, his breath coming out in short, misty bursts. “This wind is getting worse.”
I nodded, glancing around. The landscape offered little in the way of protection. The cliffs on either side were steep and unforgiving, and the snow had piled high in drifts that were nearly impassable.
“There’s a cave up ahead,” one of the traders said, pointing toward a dark opening at the base of the cliffs. “We can wait out the worst of the storm there.”
It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. The storm was coming, and there was no use pressing forward if we couldn’t see where we were going.
The cave was larger than it appeared from the outside, its walls lined with frost and icicles that shimmered in the dim light. We set up camp quickly, the guards gathering firewood and the traders unpacking their supplies. I sat near the entrance, watching the storm roll in across the plains. The wind had picked up, howling through the pass and sending flurries of snow swirling through the air.
As I stared out into the storm, I felt a subtle shift in the Aetheric Flow. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there—a disturbance in the magic that ran through the land. I closed my eyes, focusing on the flow, and I felt it again. This time, it was stronger, like a pulse of energy moving through the cold, twisting the very essence of the air around me.
The Frost Wraith was near.
I stood, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, and stepped outside the cave, ignoring the biting wind as it whipped through my cloak. The snow swirled around me, the landscape barely visible through the thick flurries, but I could feel it—the pulse of magic, drawing closer.
I narrowed my focus, letting the Aetheric Flow guide me. The magic of the Frozen Wastes was unlike anything I had encountered before. It wasn’t just a tool to be wielded—it was alive, a force that pushed and pulled against me, as if testing my resolve.
I reached out with my senses, trying to feel the cold magic around me, and I felt it respond. The ice beneath my feet shifted slightly, the snow swirling in response to my will. I could sense the Frost Wraith, but it was still distant, its presence a faint shadow in the flow.
A sudden cry from inside the cave broke my concentration, and I turned, my hand instinctively tightening around my sword. One of the traders had collapsed, clutching his chest, his face pale and his breath coming in ragged gasps. The others rushed to his side, but I could tell by the look on their faces that they had no idea what was wrong.
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I stepped closer, feeling the Aetheric Flow ripple around the man. There was something wrong, something dark, pulsing beneath the surface. I knelt beside him, my eyes narrowing as I focused on the flow.
Poison, I realized. Not a physical poison, but a magical one. The cloaked figure. They must have cursed the man during the encounter.
“Step back,” I said, my voice calm but firm.
The others hesitated but obeyed, moving away as I placed my hand on the man’s chest. The Aetheric Flow around him was dark and twisted, a slow, creeping poison that was draining his life force. I could feel it pulsing beneath my fingers, spreading through his veins like ice.
I didn’t know how to heal him. Not yet. Healing magic wasn’t something I had focused on, but there was no time to wait for someone else to help. I had to try.
I took a deep breath, focusing on the flow of magic around me. The cold was familiar now, a part of me, and I knew that I could manipulate it. But this was different. Healing wasn’t about controlling the magic—it was about balancing it, restoring what had been broken.
I reached into the flow, letting the cold magic fill me. The ice responded, swirling around my hand, but I didn’t let it freeze. Instead, I focused on the man’s life force, on the warmth that was being drained from him, and I willed the ice to stop. Slowly, carefully, I pulled the poison from his body, letting the cold magic absorb it.
The process was slow, and I could feel the strain as I worked. The Aetheric Flow resisted me at first, but I pushed through, guiding the magic with precision. The poison was thick and heavy, but eventually, I felt it begin to dissipate, melting away into the cold air.
The man gasped, his eyes fluttering open as the color returned to his face. The others rushed forward, relief flooding their features as they helped him sit up.
“He’ll be fine,” I said quietly, stepping back.
The guards and traders looked at me with a mixture of awe and gratitude, but I didn’t dwell on it. My mind was still focused on the magic, on the cold that now felt more familiar to me than ever before.
The storm raged on outside, but we were safe in the cave. As the others slept, I sat by the fire, my thoughts racing. The encounter with the cloaked figure had been more dangerous than I’d realized. They had cursed the man without any of us noticing, and if I hadn’t acted quickly, he would have died.
But that wasn’t what bothered me the most. What bothered me was how easy it had been for me to manipulate the Aetheric Flow to heal him. Healing wasn’t supposed to come naturally to me—Alric had warned me that mastering different types of magic required years of study and practice. And yet, here I was, pulling poison from a man’s body as if it were second nature.
I clenched my fist, feeling the cold magic pulsing through me. It wasn’t just about learning the spells anymore. I was beginning to understand something deeper about the magic of the Frozen Wastes. It was alive, and it was changing me, shaping me in ways I didn’t fully understand yet.
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The next morning, we continued our journey. The storm had passed, but the cold was worse than ever. The air felt thick with magic, and I could sense the Frost Wraith drawing closer with every step.
The traders and guards were quieter than before, their faces pale and their eyes haunted. They had seen death in the man’s pale skin, and even though I had saved him, the encounter had left them shaken. We moved in silence, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath our boots and the distant howl of the wind.
By midday, the cliffs had given way to a vast, open plain of ice, the horizon stretching out in an endless expanse of white. There was nothing here—no signs of life, no landmarks, just the frozen wasteland that seemed to go on forever.
But I could feel it now. The Frost Wraith was close. Its presence pulsed in the Aetheric Flow, stronger than before, and the air around us grew colder with each passing moment.
I stopped, my hand on the hilt of my sword as I scanned the horizon. The others noticed my hesitation and slowed, their eyes darting nervously toward the distant plains.
“It’s here,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
The guards tensed, their hands going to their weapons as they formed a defensive line in front of the traders. The Aetheric Flow around us was thick with cold magic, the air almost crackling with energy.
And then, I saw it.
A shadow, barely visible against the blinding white of the snow, moving toward us with terrifying speed. The wind howled louder, the snow swirling in a frenzy as the shadow grew larger, more defined.
The Frost Wraith had come.