A snowstorm swirls across Gorgon's Pass, covering the obsidian Wall in white.

“Dun fall off,” Kyros hears Mung say from behind him. “But then again, it'll save you the trouble of jumping later, aye?”

“Funny,” says Kyros, stepping to the very edge of the dark stone.

It has been three days since his arrival at the Battlefront, and tonight is the first time he’s been let outside. He does not know why Maria stopped all away missions for the week, but that has not stopped him from looking for a way out. Now, as he gazes down the sheer expanse of nothingness below the Wall, he finds himself seriously contemplating how best to break his fall.

If I jump, I’m well and truly dead.

Kyros lifts his sight to the lands beyond. As far as he can see, there is nothing but snow and desolation. Clumps of dark objects dot the horizon, impossible to tell what they are from this distance.

“Kyros Argonston.”

Maria’s voice echoes through the mountains, cold as the icy wind.

“Time to speak your vows.”

Kyros takes a deep breath in. He grips the steel dagger in his fist. The leather grip is worn. He brings it up and holds it against his palm.

“Here in the ice, stands the wall which protects the nation of men.”

The words do not come easily, for they are not words he ever expected to say in his lifetime.

“Here in the snow, stand those who take up arms against monsters.”

And yet he must. If anything, he needs to play the part if he wants to move about the mountain freely.

“Here in the cold I stand, an outcast and a wanderer. But with this offering, I begin life anew.”

The winds howl. Kyros draws the blade, spilling his blood into the swirling darkness.

“I shall take up arms only against the dark. I shall raise my shield only for my fellow men. I shall take no wives and own no land, for with these vows I become a part of this wall.”

Kyros crouches down and lowers his hand to the ground. The snow is cold, but as his blood seeps down through it he feels the obsidian growing hot, answering him with heat like the beating heart of an ancient being.

And then it is done.

Kyros withdraws and stands. Breathing hard, he turns around to see Mung grinning and Maria holding out Frostbane.

“Truer words have never been said in your life,” the woman says, her white hair whipping around her dark face. “From this moment until the end of your existence in the realm of men, you are Kyros. You belong to no house but the one you are standing on.”

Kyros exchanges his bloody dagger for Frostbane, strapping it to his side.

Saying nothing, he follows Mung back into the mountain.

The steel room opens into a shallow cavern with a colossal forge positioned in the wall.

“Best to ditch that fancy scabbard of yours, aye?” says Mung. “I seen some eyes shifting it good.” He pulls open the iron gates and Kyros is shocked to see a girl working the furnace, until he realizes she’s a dwarf.

Dressed in a sleeveless shirt and ripped pants, the dwarf is hammering on a piece of hot steel and doesn’t look up as Mung says,

“We’ve got a new brother, Windry.”

"I heard," says the dwarf as she dips the steel hissing into a barrel of water. Steam rises through the cave, gathering on the ceiling. "The usual order is already done. I sent for a runner."

"He's got to need something else," Mung says. "A sheath. The one he got now is gonna get him killed, aye?” Chuckling, he reaches for Frostbane but Kyros leaps back, kicking a bucket of ingots over.

“Hey!” says Windry, finally looking up from her work. “You want to end up inside Torm?” She bangs her hammer against the side of the furnace. "Do ya?"

“I’m not changing anything about this sword,” Kyros says. “I’ll die protecting it if I have to.” He notices now just how sweltering it is in here. The walls glisten with moisture and he can hear the sounds of water dripping from the ceiling.

Mung shakes his head. “Still waiting on your woman, aye?”

Kyros doesn’t answer. Windry is still glaring at him, so he backs away as a show of respect, then starts picking up the ingots off the floor.

"She’s still alive," he says quietly. “I know it.”

“Even so,” says Mung, “you dun have time to waste waiting, aye? In two days we’ll be in the snow chasing beast-folk. The last thing you need is something shimmering by your ass like a maiden in a mess hall, aye?”

Kyros is about to retort when Windry walks out behind her anvil. “Give it ‘er,” she says, holding out a hand wrapped in dirty bandages.

Kyros eyes the dwarf hesitantly.

“Don’t sweat,” says Windry. “I’ll give it back, promise on my dwarf’s blood.”

Kyros unclasps Frostbane and hands it over.

“Light,” Windry says, running her fingers over the scabbard. "Haven't held a sword this fine since..." She draws the blade slowly, closing her eyes as if savoring the sound of steel gliding out from leather.

Her eyes open, grow wide.

“I suspected,” she whispers, "but... I'd never..." She holds Frostbane close, drinking the details on the steel. She swings it through the air, holds it up to the light of the furnace.

Kyros watches as the dwarf's features go soft, then hard, then pained.

“Where's the owner of this sword?” she asks, turning suddenly to him. "Cathranhae. It was her you were talking about, yea?"

The dwarf's intensity takes Kyros by surprise. But it's the name she said that puzzles him the most.

“I am not certain,” he says. "The woman I know is named Cathra Stelias."

Windry's brows furrow. "That is not a name I have heard." She looks at Frostbane again. "Perhaps she changed it. I would not find that difficult to believe. Little Cat was always so clever."

She goes silent. Contemplative.

"You're... right," Kyros says, staring at the sword in the dwarf's hands. "The Cathra I know is a skilled and resourceful captain. That is why I know she still lives, despite how it seems."

Even under thick layers of soot and smoke, Windry’s face is pale. She sheathes Frostbane and hands it back to Kyros. “I know not the circumstances of the outside world,” she says, “and I have vowed to keep it that way. But if you intend to return Cathranhae’s sword to her, please let me assist in the only way I am able.”

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The dwarf turns to a shelf behind her and pulls out a length of grey cloth. "I will have a cover for that scabbard ready by dawn," she says. "A simple but effective disguise. It will not damage the carvings or hinder the draw.”

Before Kyros can reply Mung cuts in. “Ain’t ever heard of something like that, aye? Think you can make one for me, Windry?”

“Shove it, Stick,” says Windry, her head buried in her new item of work. “Your rubbish sword does not deserve coverings.”

“Nah, I want it for this.” Mung taps his belt where a steel canister is strung. “Dun want the beast folk snatching it off me, aye?”

Windry waves him off. “A covering won't do squat when there's a blade stuck between your ribs,” she says. “Now leave. Before I beat the beasts to it.”

True to the dwarf’s word, by sunrise the next morning, a bundle of grey fur clothes is ready for Kyros when he wakes up. Searching through it, he finds a length of white cloth seamlessly stitched on three sides.

Slipping the sleeve over Frostbane's scabbard, the intricacies of the weapon are perfectly hidden. At a glance, Cathra's sword looks just like the ordinary ones carried by Kyros’s new brothers.

Kyros catches himself on that thought.

He belongs to The Wall now. Even if it is for show.

If Allastair and Bendric knew about this, would they still call themselves my brothers? Or would they hang their heads in my shame?

Fastening Frostbane to his belt, Kyros leaves the tiny hole in the cavern wall that is his bunk room and makes for the morning roll call.

In the mess hall, a few hundred men are crowded inside to hear Maria’s speech. For the last three mornings, Kyros has participated in this routine, but today feels different. Many people are whispering. Some of them are fidgeting with the hems of their gloves or the grip of their weapons, while others look like they've held in their piss for too long.

Unease and restlessness permeate throughout the entire gathering.

A creaking of wood signals Maria taking place at the front of the hall. She’s standing on one of the larger tables, with a guillotine-like sword unsheathed by her side. The weapon is three-palms wide and as tall as her.

“Seven days ago,” she says in a voice that commands the damned and anxious alike. “Our scouts have returned intelligence of a ruined castle in the northeast mountains. It is believed that is where the beast folk have made their base.”

The hall grows quiet as every pair of eyes fixates on their leader.

“We believe within that castle is a weapon possessing capabilities unlike what we've seen before," Maria goes on. "It is undoubtedly this weapon that has given the beast folk strength to keep up their prolonged assault on our Great Wall."

A few men let out hisses of disgust. Some start to curse the beast folk.

The sounds remind Kyros too well of Sir Jernal.

“This is good news!” says Maria. “For we now know where to strike. We can cut down our enemy in their misshapen hearts! Sever their footing so they shall freeze in the unflinching cold!”

Shouts of agreement build throughout the crowd. Weapons are lifted into the air. Some people start to roar.

Maria does not raise her voice. Yet her words carry through the noise.

“Make no mistake. Our numbers do not give us the advantage in a frontal assault. At dusk tonight, I will lead three parties deep into the enemy’s territory to carry out this mission. In the meantime, all brothers will continue their duties as before and obey every order from their senior command.” She stops to scan the crowd with her one eye. “What are the two rules of the Battlefront?"

The answer is roared in a hundred different voices. “Maria's words are law! A brother's blood is sacred!”

Kyros tries to find Mung in the dispersing crowd, but instead walks right into the massive belly of Butcher, who slaps him on the back.

It seems that’s the only gesture of friendliness the fat man knows.

“I’m looking for Mung,” Kyros says.

“Strange doings,” says Butcher, “looking for another man.”

“It’s not…” Kyros sighs. “Never mind. Do you know which floor the stables are on?”

Butcher’s eyes narrow into slits. “What you want a horse for?”

People are pushing past them, making it difficult for Kyros to see if Butcher is getting suspicious or not.

He decides not to risk it and presses a bunch of bits into the fat man's hand. "10 silvers says you'll tell me without hearing my answer."

Butcher’s face twists into a grin. He shoves his fist into his breeches and juts his chin out towards the elevation rooms on the eastern wall. “Third one,” he says. “You get caught, I don’t know you.”

That night, Kyros waits until the cavern is quiet before slipping out of his bed. He sneaks to the elevation rooms, carrying Frostbane and a bag of supplies.

Knowing where to press after watching others do it, he activates the steel room and pulls the iron gate behind him.

He taps a knuckle against the wall.

One. Two. Three times.

The room shudders. A yellow light starts flashing. Kyros begins to descend.

Only one person is guarding the horses.

A boy, barely of age, sits on a hay bale with his head propped against a wooden fence. Kyros sneaks past him and unhooks the closest horse from its pole. The animal huffs as it's disturbed from sleep, but with a sugar cube and some coaxing, Kyros gets it to follow him back to the elevation rooms.

As they approach, the boy stirs. Kyros stops, his dagger at the ready. He doesn't want to kill the boy but if his freedom rests on it, he won't hesitate.

That's what he tells himself anyway, but luckily he need not test the thought because the boy turns and starts to snore.

Kyros finds a worn stirrup and saddles the horse. When they’re both back in the lift, he closes the gate and taps against a different part of the wall.

His knuckles rap sixteen times on the metal.

The room shakes.

This time, it goes up.

Kyros feels the cold even before the doors open to a grey void. Keeping his head low, he presses into the howling snow. He hears the horse whinny but with a few tugs and another sugar cube, the animal follows.

The wall is frozen-over and footing is perilous. More than once Kyros slips, pushed back by the wind. He only manages to hold on by clinging to the side of the horse. The darkness and snowfall make seeing anything more than a foot in each direction impossible.

It is by sheer coincidence that Kyros finds the gap in the wall.

An iron gate bars against the yawning chasm below. Kyros looks around the snow. There doesn’t seem to be any hidden mechanism, but watching the inner workings of the battlefront for the last few days, he’s come to know there is more to these mountains than their appearances suggest.

Feeling along the gate, Kyros tries to find a contraption or some sort of irregularities in the iron. It feels different from the cage that took him up the first time, but Kyros does not dwell on it.

As long as it gets me to the ground, it will do.

Off to the side of his vision, something starts to glow. It is a bluish light, faint in the pummeling snowstorm.

A lantern.

Someone is coming.

Kyros pulls back. He looks around for a hiding place but finds none. He grabs the reins of his horse but the animal refuses to budge. He digs in his pocket for a sugar cube but his frozen fingers fumble them all over the snow.

A person emerges through the misty storm, wrapped in thick layers of wool. He’s holding a lantern in one hand a spear in the other, and doesn’t seem to see Kyros yet.

There is no other choice. Kyros unhooks Frostbane from his belt and charges forward.

The guard doesn’t even get time to look up. A great clang rings across the wall as Kyros brings the sheathed blade down onto the man’s head, dropping him like a sack of flour.

Shock spreads through Kyros’s arms. He staggers back, Frostbane almost slipping from his stiff grasp.

The man lies flat on his face. His lantern rolls along on the ground, stopping among the sugar cubes.

Kyros goes to check the man’s pulse but a shout comes through the wind. More glowing spots are emerging in the veil of snow. Voices begin converging from both directions.

Whoever they are, have heard the attack.

Kyros races back to the gap and shoves his hand against the railing. His fingers graze something hard protruding from the conjunction between two rails.

He immediately pushes it. A second later, he hears the sounds of stone grinding, coming from below.

“Who goes there!”

A man bursts into view, holding a lantern in front of his face. He sweeps the light across and exclaims when he sees Kyros. “By goddesses, what do you think you’re doing!”

Kyros backs away. "I'm not-" His foot slips against a patch of ice and he stumbles hard into the railing.

He hears a sharp crack as the frozen iron snaps. He pitches backward and falls, the dark sky consuming his world.

A second of gut-wrenching nothing, then Kyros crashes into the ascending cage, his bones shocking from the cold metal. The pain stuns him. His vision starts to swim, go dim.

No. Kyros struggles to hold onto consciousness. Not yet.

The cage continues to rise, taking him back up to the top of the wall, back to the alarmed guards.

Kyros gets up. He’ll have to leave the horse.

He starts feeling along the rails. He finds the switch easily, now that he knows what he is looking for. Flipping it, the cage shudders to a halt then starts to descend.

The voices die away, swallowed by the wind.

Kyros sits back and allows himself a few seconds to relax. The snowstorm continues to batter against the cage, swinging it like a ship in the waves, but he barely feels the danger.

Freedom is close. And with it, his ability to search for Cathra again.

The cage reaches the bottom. Kyros pushes the gate open and steps out into the snow.

He stops in mid-movement, his foot hovering over the metal bar.

There is no chasm on this side but a wide expanse of flat snow.

He went down the wrong side.

But what is more alarming than that, is the lean figure hunched in front of him, stooped against the snow-covered ground.

Kyros’s mind goes blank.

The yaojin is cloaked in rags and clutching a contraption in its claws. It watches Kyros with a pair of yellow, filmy eyes.

Kyros steps from the cage. He reaches up, meaning to show empty hands.

The creature lifts its mishappen body and hisses. Then before Kyros can think to do anything it raises the contraption high over its head and cries out,

"For Arcadia!"

Then from somewhere above Kyros, he hears the wall explode.