Gilja’s family and Nathan had walked for three days now. To conserve energy, they didn’t talk or look around; their necks were too tired to look up, and their eyes too strained to look down. They travelled in straight lines, going from tree to tree, taking breaks each time, letting their fatigue spread into bark and their hopes drain into snow.

#

Nathan spotted a cloud of snow approaching them at great speeds. A few instants later, two dogs came into view; they were laced up in black reins and behind them loomed shadows masked by rolling clouds.

Gilja, who had only maintained his spirit to reassure his daughters, regained hope and yelled for help. But just as their hopes had risen, the sled took a sharp right turn and disappeared into the plains.

Nathan didn’t bother screaming, the sled wasn't stopping, but this at least meant that they were heading in the right direction. The Tower was ever closer, and perhaps the musher had gone to get help.

“At least we know we’re getting closer,” Gilja reassured them by stating the obvious. And for once, Anfila didn’t deny her father’s words. A ray of hope in their hearts, they began to walk with renewed vigour.

An hour later, they spotted another sled. This one came close enough as to lock eyes with them, but, yet again, it turned away and sped off into the horizon.

As they continued, more and more sleds passed by, all of which carried large crates which shone blue. These boxes were stacked up to the height of the musher.

Finally, after a few hours, a sled came to a stop near them. This one, on the other hand, carried nothing, but a short, and old musher. His coat was made of old leather, and the fur which lined his hoodie was yellow even when covered in snow crystals. “Are all of you alright?” the musher asked Gilja as he reined in his dogs.

However, Gilja, tired of yelling at all the passing sleds, couldn't speak. The cold had torn the inside of his throat to shreds.

Nathan stepped up. “No, we haven’t eaten anything but sardines for the past week. We’re all tired and hungry. We’re heading to Bregva, can you bring us there?”

The musher looked up at Nathan’s silver hair and smiled. “Yes, it’s no problem. I’ll also call for help if there are any other stragglers further back,” he offered. “Those of us who live on the coast have heard that the Northern Spirit has abandoned the hinterlands."

Nathan shook his head, “No, we’re the last ones, but thanks for the offer.”

The musher nodded and handed each of them a small bag.

Anfila looked inside. “Jerky!” she called out and ate it all in an instant, perhaps afraid it might fly away with the wind. Seeing this, the others opened their bags and finished everything as well; so salty were the sardines that the jerky tasted sweet.

When they’d finished their meals, the musher invited them on the sled. He padded down his hood, making sure it would properly insulate his head, before spurring on his dogs.

An hour later, the sleds they’d seen began to group up and form a line in the otherwise empty snow plains. Having all these dogs bunched up together, running in unison, created thunderous thuds which resounded through the region.

Soon Nathan spotted great palisades twice his height, however, surprisingly there were no guards nor gates; just an entrance anyone could enter as long as the sleds came to a stop and made way for them.

The sleds crammed in tighter.

Nathan’s was at the edge of the line, and they filtered through the opening without leaving less than an inch between them and the palisade. Once inside, they continued at their blistering pace, heading straight through the main road, splitting the city in two.

To Nathan’s right, hundreds of igloos sprawled out and hundreds of chimneys billowed out grey-white smoke. And on the other side, there stood igloos thrice the size of normal ones. They shined white, almost as if covered in a thin film of ice. There, mushers unloaded crates filled with crystals, while others loaded emptied crates onto their sleds before speeding off and rejoining the never-ending line of sleds.

Nathan’s eyes widened in amazement. Although he knew Bregva didn’t compare to the grand cities surrounding the Towers, it was still utterly impressive. He had never seen more than a few dozen igloos at once, but now hundreds of chimneys released smoke into the air. He could only imagine the wonders of the tower.

As they proceeded into the city, Nathan spotted the sea. It was humongous, blue, and dotted over with icebergs. But as he thought they were heading for the port, the sled took a sharp right turn and stopped in front of a large house made of wood. It was built in the Marilan style, like his house. But why would the musher bring them here? That was no doubt the house of a mage.

Coming to a stop, the musher nailed his reins into the beaten snow with a large wooden spike.

“Let’s head inside, we have warm food and drinks.”

But just as Gilja and the others were about to follow him inside, Nathan spoke up, “No, we’re fine.” He didn’t mind meeting a mage since that was most likely his way out, however, he doubted that Gilja’s family would be treated well. It was better if Gilja’s family came with him. If he just made his way to the port and claimed them as his, there shouldn't be any problems. “We have family here, so we’ll be heading there. Thanks for your help regardless.”

One couldn’t see the musher’s forehead nor mouth under his snow-covered scarf and his coat’s fur-lined hoodie, but his eye’s squinted in disapproval. “I insist you come. Especially you Seer. After all, everyone wants to meet a Seer, especially one who cared for their village as long as you did. Most Seers and villagers have long abandoned their villages. Without the Spirit of the North, it is almost impossible to live up there. Plus, you don’t know, your family might be working right now, and I doubt you could find their igloo without knowing the city. It’s not known in the hinterlands, but things have gotten busy here recently and the city has greatly expanded.”

“Busy, how so?” asked Nathan.

“The people from the south have brought jobs—”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Mages; the mages have done things, not the people," interrupted Nathan, hoping to elicit a reaction from the musher and figure out why he wanted to paint the mages in a good light when they were most likely the ones who brought devastation upon the land.

Nathan’s father had never told him why the Northern mages came here, not only because it wasn’t important to his education, but also because he came from the Southern Tower and wasn’t well-informed on their politics. He had come here as a mercenary, nothing else.

The musher tilted his head. “If you know that much, then why did you come here? Well, I suppose it’s work or death. Anyhow, come in and stop fighting this desperate fight.”

Nathan wasn’t sure what the musher meant by that, but he began thinking about whether he should disclose his identity, but before he could make up his mind someone interrupted his thoughts.

“What are you guys talking about! What are mages? What is happening in the city? Why is everyone always talking in code?” asked Anfila.

The musher snickered. “You shouldn’t try to think about it too much. Our people still cling to old ideals of secrecy. It hinders us, but it can’t be changed, so accept it and move on.”

Nathan looked back to Gilja, surprised that he didn’t intervene at the musher’s words. But Nathan didn’t find him standing next to his girls but collapsed on the sled. His eyes were barely open, and he muttered incomprehensible words. Following Nathan's eyes, Gilja's daughters spotted him and ran back to him with yells of worry.

“It seems like no one can deny what I said. Now, let’s stop this play and enter. Head in first Seer, I need to wake up that old thing,” he said, looking at Gilja with a hefty amount of disgust.

“Is there a mage inside?” Nathan asked to confirm. At least then he could prove his identity, but if there were only mushers working on behalf of mages, then it would complicate things, and he might just need to make a run for the port.

“That’s not something you need to know.” The musher smiled.

Hearing that, Nathan guessed that a mage did reside here. After all, the city seemed too well managed, and the musher’s confidence was too great not to be backed up by serious strength. And so, he entered the building with no intentions of withholding any information. He was now a mage and deserved to be treated as such.

Inside, there were a few empty tables and a desk behind which a woman with brown hair, and hazel eyes stood. She looked like his father.

The receptionist, hearing the door open, peered up from whatever occupied her and spotted Nathan. “A seer,” she said with a Marian accent, but one which had more slurred ‘S’s than rolling ‘R’s like his father.

This would make proving his origins that much easier.

In Marian, Nathan asked. “Hi, I’d like to know why I wasn’t allowed to proceed to the port?”

Her eyes widened and she switched languages. “Who taught you, Marian?” she asked, now suspicious. No new mages should have come to the island.

She wondered if he might have sneaked onto a ship as a stowaway or been reinforcements of Grenold’s faction, however, the boy wore old Daquo clothes, no different from any other villagers in the North of the Grival Island.

The boy reached into his coat and pulled out the pin he’d stored in a pocket. “My father is a mage. I’ve come to join the Northern Tower.”

And that’s when she saw it, an opportunity of a lifetime. But she couldn’t act too fast. She inspected the emblem; it was a yellow and orange sun with three rays. The emblem of a Southern Tower mage, and the three rays meant he was at the third rank, so most likely a mercenary.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Fourteen,” he answered.

That would match up with the time of the invasion. “And why did your father raise you here and not on the Continent?”

“To awaken a strong mana heart that could revive our name of Cordella.”

Margarette smirked, but quickly took on a composed look. Not only was he the son of a mage with an emblem, but he was of a likelier than not, from a ruined family. Although the boy would undergo some hardships, it was worth it. She could also guarantee him a good position in the Tower once he completed this trial, that’s if he didn’t go mad, but knowing noble mages and how they educated their children he should do just fine. “That’s … Ummm … unfortunate,” she said, forgetting what had previously been said. “Wait here, take a seat, I’ll go get the representative.” She ran off.

#

Unfortunate, thought Nathan. He had lost his father, his mother, his grandmother, his uncle, yet he had gotten over it quickly enough. He now only cared about the Tower. Perhaps it was wrong, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Or maybe was it because in his heart of hearts he couldn’t believe that they had all died. It was too sudden and bizarre.

Not long after, Gilja, Anfila, Mahila, and the musher entered. A strong gust of wind stripped Nathan of the heat he hadn’t realized had returned to him.

“Where’s Margarette?” asked the musher.

“If that's the receptionist, she went up to get the representative.”

The musher froze up. “Well, you guys can stay here, I have things to do.” He ran out, leaving us unguarded.

Seeing this, I could guess the representative wasn’t good news. “Gilja, take Anfila and Mailha outside.”

Although slumped over and barely conscious, he nodded. I felt bad for him, but this was for the best, hopefully we could all rest soon enough.

The family stepped out. At least in the city, the winds weren’t as strong as in the plains.

The stairs Margarette had run up creaked. The steps which came down were heavy and slow.

Grey shoes, grey robes, a large build, long black hair, a strong jaw line, and large black eyes. The mage appeared. His robe’s buttons were silver, and his emblem was a snowflake with four arms.

“Are you the one who claims to be a mage?” he asked in fluent, near accent-less Daqua.

“Yes,” I answered in Marian, again to inform them of my background. However, something unexpected happened next.

“I’m sorry? Please speak in Daqua, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Nathan was more than confused. He couldn’t fathom why he wasn’t being answered back in Marian? And so, to further reinforce the fact he was a mage, or at least the apprentice of one, he threw the mage his pin. After the man had a glance at it, it flew back to him. “My father comes from the Southern Tower, and I was raised here to prepare for the life of a mage. I’m currently on my way to the Northern Tower and need an escort back.”

The mage raised his eyebrows. “I still don’t understand you, nor why you’re showing me a Southern Tower emblem? I’m assuming you’re trying to tell me that you killed a third-ranked mage and are coming for me next. And although this is both disgraceful and insulting, what is more insulting than that is that you don’t understand the difference between a third and a fourth-ranked mage.”

I looked around, searching for the receptionist who had spoken to me in Marian, and soon enough I spotted her on the stairs. “Can you help me, Margarette!” Nathan called out.

However, the receptionist ignored him and quickly ran up the stairs with quiet steps and the next thing Nathan knew he received a slap across the face. It burned.

“Who are you talking to! I’m the one in charge here. I don’t know how you think a mana-less assistant will help you out here, but it won’t.”

Although the mage’s eyes were full of mockery previously, they were now filled with disgust.

Nathan decided to bring it back to the topic at hand, afraid that he’d have no chance of escaping if he let the mage’s anger boil any longer. “As the son of a mage and one who awakened their mana heart, it’s my right to be brought without cost and in all safety to the nearest Tower. Here, look at the pin again. I have it! I know you can speak Marian, all mages can! Don’t ignore what I’m saying.”

That’s when Nathan received a knee to his chest and in an instant, he was on the ground clinging to himself in a fetal position.

“How dare you!” He yelled, “Although, it’s a serious crime for one like you to kill a mage. I was going to let you squander around for a while, but you’ve angered me. Your tongue is too fine and your insults too sharp.” Ice shackles formed around Nathan’s wrists and ankles. “Things are changing, and we don’t need more of you. I hope that one day you’ll envy death.”

Nathan stared at the ice which imprisoned him. He … he couldn’t understand any of it. What had he said? What had he done? Was he not been promised safe passage to the Tower? Why would a mage act like this? Wasn’t this a blatant violation of the laws? Wasn't he afraid of the repercussions?

The mage’s eyes were now filled with pure, unadulterated rage. Nathan quickly looked down, but his glance was enough to earn him a kick to the head.

“Musher, come back and take this thing away. I don’t ever want to see him again.”