Another step. The phrase repeated in Xerio’s ears as he crunched through the snow, just another step. It had been hours since he, his sister, Yimea, and his mother escaped into the cold harsh winter. He could still hear the screams and blood chilling screeches of his neighbors assaulting his mind as the men from the mountains descended upon his village of Spellsburg. They appeared clouded in a sheet of fog and gave no warning until they were half way into the village center. He fought to block it out, letting it take over would mean death. Clutching his younger sister’s hand, he cut a path through the snow which reached his knees.

“Come one! Keep walking!” Xerio encouraged. Yimea starred forward giving no sign she heard his words. Her head was wrapped in bandages and dried blood caked and flecked the right side of her face. She received a blow to the head from an attacker as their father moved to intervene. Mother told him it was a miracle she survived the blow. It was a miracle any of them made it out if it were not for their father.

His father tackled the man after he struck Yimea and plunged a kitchen knife into the barbarian's neck. With no hesitation and no regard for himself, Xerio’s father bid his family out the back then charged through the front door wailing like a mad man. He succeeded in his final act of drawing the men away while his family escaped into the frozen woods. His father was a baker by trade, he had never killed or even fought. In that moment, Xerio knew he would have become anything he had to to save the lives of his family from a grisly fate.

The attack had come in the late afternoon and darkness would soon be upon them. Xerio looked back at his mother, who was falling behind. “Mother, please, you are slowing.” he called over the beating wind.

Xerio’s mother lifted her head. Her skin was as pale as his, she gripped herself tightly, and her lips trembled as she spoke. Brunette hair which was pulled in a bun was covered in snow and ice. “I am fine. Do not worry about me, son.”

It was a lie and not a convincing one. Xerio scanned the area and found a suitable tree to rest for the night under. It only had a dusting of snow beneath it and provided shelter from the harsh wind. Taking account of their position, disheartened him. They had no supplies, no food, and no way to create a fire. His mother sat with her back against the trunk and Xerio pulled Yimea beside her and forced her to sit. Looking into his sister’s eyes was like gazing into an endless dark abyss. She hardly moved a muscle, the only sign she was not dead was the little exhalations of her breath. “Yimea. Speak to me.” Xerio demanded, but to no avail. It was as if her mind was dead, but the body was unaware.

Xerio knelt by his mother. “Something is wrong with Yimea. She will not talk to me and it is concerning. I don’t know what to do.”

His mother gave a pained smile and reached out to take his hand in hers. “Probably shock. She will be alright, she has you to lead her out of this mess.” She said in a weak tone.

“And you are going to be there with us, mother.” Xerio protested. “I promise on all the gods, I will get you and Yimea to Felstrom.”

“To invoke the gods is a passionate and loving gesture, but look at this.” Raising her arm, it shook violently. “I am shaking and it is agony to speak. You? You are your father’s son. A frokeln, a winter elf. Hands which do not shake and you can speak with little effort. I know you and Yimea will make it to Felstrom. It is only a day away from here.”

Xerio fought to prevent tears, he did not want to cry in front of his mother. His throat formed a knot and the weight of his reality struck. It threatened to crush him. Why make promises to the gods? It would not help. They were far away and would do nothing to save them. There was no choice, he had to be strong on his own. He could not save his father and he knew in his stomach this would be the last he spoke to his mother. “I love you.” Xerio sobbed.

“I love you too.” she replied with a fading smile.

Xerio sat down in between Yimea and his mother. He took their hands into his. A small gesture, but he hoped it would give them some comfort through the night. His sister’s were cold, but it was normal for them, but his mother’s usually warm delicate hands were icy and rigid. She glanced at him a final time. A trickle ran down her cheek. “My Xerio, my boy. You are going to live. I know you will save Yimea.” She then brought her knees up to her head and tucked to preserve any warmth she had left. These words would haunt Xerio for decades. Was this her coming to terms with the end? A realization of her mortality? He wondered where she would go, which god would claim her soul. Perhaps the Spirit would take her; she was a follower after all. Cova, the patron god of ice and winter would no doubt have a claim, he was the one who would kill her. Xerio was not fully aware of the god’s plan or how they divided up their followers.

Sitting made him discover how his body ached. The sprint into the woods for fear of dying to a club or blade and then trekking for hours in the fresh snow had worn heavily on his being. He fought against sleep, but the sky turned to night and not even the terror of what lurked beyond the branches could keep his eyes from closing. He squeezed his family’s hands one last time and blackness consumed his thoughts.

Xerio stirred as new light caressed his face. It was the break of dawn. His body was freezing, but he had survived the night. He moved to stand, but his left hand was constrained. His mother had not let go through the night. Her body was frozen stiff with a dusting of snow from above on her head, shoulders, and knees. She was gone. A few tears escaped Xerio’s eyes as he rubbed his nose. “I will do as promised.” He said, choking back more tears. Survival was the most important task. If he still drew breath, he could mourn her loss later. Peeling her fingers away, Xerio freed himself.

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Bringing his attention to Yimea, he found her alive, but asleep. He was thankful she had found rest. They both were going to need their strength to escape this white nightmare. Nudging her, Yimea’s eyes slowly opened. To Xerio’s dismay, she resumed her quiet, distant stare. “Morning, Yimea. We have to go. Felstrom awaits.” Taking her hand, he assisted her up. Crawling from under their poor shelter, they trudged forward. Xerio wanted to keep his eyes front, but his guilt caused him to stop and turn back to the tree.

It was horrible and Xerio cursed himself. Leaving his mother behind was a burden on his soul and a sin. She had raised, fed, and treated him when he was sick and this is how he would repay her. His mother was dead, but he felt in his heart that he was abandoning her. He glanced at his sister, but Yimea offered no comfort. He told himself that his mother’s body was only a shell, a husk with no life. Looking skyward, he prayed his mother and father were back together after only being apart a short time. There was nothing more he could do and continued west.

Hours passed as they moved through the soft snow. Yimea may not speak, but she still followed directions which made it easier on Xerio. He wondered what he would do if she suddenly stopped or sat down. How long could he carry her? Would she let him? He had frokeln blood, but was also half human, a hys. The chill was now affecting him as his movements were slowing and his breathing labored.

They were on the right path which gave Xerio a speck of assurance. The mountains, which peeked out from between the foliage, were to his left in the south. Sometimes, Spellsburg could not provide everything a baker would need so he and his father would make trips to Felstrom in the past. It always had what they needed be it more grain or tools.

Time was a mystery. He had no idea how long they had been walking. Hope was fleeting, but still he kept moving. He did not feed himself sweet lies, just through the trees or just over this hill and there the city would be. He only told himself they would eventually get there. It was a fact, if they could keep marching.

Xerio’s hands started to shake and he could feel Yimea pulling back harder bit by bit. He pondered what was going on with his sister’s thoughts. What she was dwelling on which forced a blank, unnerving gaze. Maybe the brush with death stirred doubts about her life, but it seemed unlikely. She was only ten and he was fourteen. It had to be the trauma of it all, she simply could not process it with a child’s mind.

Finally, after what felt like a foolish test of will and death orchestrated by the gods, Xerio saw a sight he would not soon forget. Pillars of smoke could be seen on the horizon. Only a little while longer and they would be in the safety of Felstrom. “You see that? Felstrom!” Xerio excitedly pointed. “Take heart, Yimea. We are going to get out of this.” Yimea gave no response. Frustrated with her silence, he regarded and grabbed her by the arms. Crouching to look evenly into her eyes he pleaded. “Please, Yimea speak to me! Please, tell me you are still beside me!” No response, her eyes did not even flicker at his cries. Xerio let go and looked up. “Damn the gods! Damn all of you! I tell you now, I will get what I deserve! No matter the cost!” He threatened with gnashing teeth and cruel expression. Only the wind in a gust responded to him. Scowling, it was no surprise he was ignored. Grabbing his sister’s hand again, they continued.

They reached the gates of Felstrom at dusk. There was a guardhouse and multiple braziers were lit with flames. The guards in their gambeson armor looked exhausted from the day of standing and keeping watch. A feeling a relief and peace washed over Xerio. The ordeal was nearing its end. Xerio approached the closest guard and who perked up at the sight of two snow covered children. “By the gods, what are you doing outside the city at this hour?” He said, kneeling down to them and brushing snow off.

Xerio stuttered, eyeing the fire. He wanted nothing more than to huddle down next to it, but he had to let the guards know what had happened in Spellsburg. “Spellsburg was raided by men from the mountains. I do not know how many are still alive or if the village still stands.” He struggled to communicate.

The guard looked confused. “Ah, shite.” he muttered to himself. “Come with me.” He led the pair into the guardhouse. It was warm and Xerio saw a cauldron of soup cooking over the hearth. The guard addressed another in a simple tunic who was sharpening his sword. “Garret, get those kids some soup. I need to go speak with the captain.”

“Why?” the other questioned. “We taking in children now?”

“Spellsburg was attacked, the captain is going to want to speak to them. Get them soup and warmed up, the boy can hardly speak.” the guard rebuked and ascended a set of stairs.

Soup, fresh warm soup was on the table a moment later and Xerio wanted to weep tears of joy. His stomach had ached from hunger, but he had nothing for it until this moment. Greedily he grasped his bowl and drank the contents, occasionally chewing the carrots and onions. His joy would continue after such hard struggles when Yimea stirred from her stupor. Reaching out she took the bowl in both hands and quietly drank it. However, it was short lived joy as once she finished and placed down her bowl, the stare resumed.

Descending footsteps of boots caught Xerio’s attention. A man with a full black beard with gray streaks and stoic demeanor dressed in a fine black tunic with white accents arrived before Xerio followed by the guard, who left the guardhouse. The man regarded Xerio with a stern gaze. “I am Ero, a captain of the Felstrom guard. Spellsburg was attacked?”

“Yes.” Xerio replied.

“When?”

“Yesterday in the late afternoon.”

“Who attacked?”

“Men from the mountains in the south.”

Ero exhaled and shook his head while rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Are you two the only survivors?”

“I do not know.” Xerio shrugged.

“Well, I will dispatch riders to investigate. Thank the gods you arrived to inform us.”

Xerio scoffed, “Yeah, thank the gods.” He muttered under his breath.

Not hearing the sarcasm, Ero yelled at Garret “Garret, get your boots and armor on and wake the riders. You are to set out for Spellsburg immediately.” Garret grimaced, but rose and went into the dormitory. “As for you and your sister.” Ero said to Xerio. “You may stay here until they return, then you will be taken to the orphanage. I doubt you will be kept long however.” He then left and went back up the stairs. Xerio did not know what he meant by the statement. Would the orphanage throw him out or would they be adopted quickly. He guessed it was not the latter.

Xerio had been surviving on sheer adrenaline, but now with a full belly, the sheer weight of fatigue fell upon his shoulders. His legs and muscles were sore and turning to stone. He brought Yimea over to the hearth and they sat before the dancing fire. He had succeeded, Xerio had beaten the most difficult trial of his young life and kept his promise to his mother. Yimea was safe. Laying on his side, he curled into a ball, basking in the warmth. His task was complete, but he did not know what to do next. The uncertainty of his future kept him from gaining any restful sleep.