Gauging by the ice in her eyes, things weren’t going well for Zyryxa. Qoryxa’s princess plastered on a serene expression before offering that maddeningly smooth head tilt. Across the room, the Hero himself played “The Warrior’s Pride,” though his lute was obviously not in good shape and he left the vocals out. Natazia thought of her own once-parents and the many times she had sang and danced along to their ballads.

She sighed, knowing those days were past. Somewhere in Riverwatch, the music fled her. She felt a kinship with the Hero as it seemed the loss of his wife took away some of the beautiful music in him. Natazia’s sympathy only made her adore him more.

“Abbaz,” Zyryxa said, her voice carrying no music either, “this is my broodleader.”

“Hello, Natazia,” Abbaz said.

Her heart jumped up into her throat. The Hero remembered her! Even in his grief! Despite his haggardness, the huge man was awe-inspiring and beautiful. She bowed, just as low as she would for Champion Vaztyma. “At your service, mighty Abbaz.”

Zyryxa frowned at her. “You know each other?” she asked.

Natazia savored her dismay, though she kept her voice reverent for the Hero’s sake. “I spent many moons in Loxzua last year, in the swarm of Knight Gaeliz. I’m honored to be remembered.”

“Don’t short yourself, Natazia,” Abbaz said, his voice kind. “You’re worth remembering.”

Natazia suppressed a squeal, bowing to her hero. “Thank you, Hero.”

“Please call me Abbaz,” he said, his voice more stilted.

“Of course, H-Abbaz!” She felt a fool for making him uncomfortable, which quickly evaporated as if hit directly by the light of the sun. She, the once-daughter of four nobodies, a little girl from the far south who dreamt of someday being somebody, was on a first name basis with the greatest living legend in Volqor.

She felt excitement building, echoes of her old self. Then, like being plunged into ice water, she went cold, thinking of him. She tried to shake it off, tried to remind herself that she could be warm here. She was remembered by the Hero of the Hill, the bard of Loxzua, and this powerful, intelligent, beautiful man was a far, far better person than him.

Still, she heard his voice stripping her away. You’re nothing without me.

Zyryxa took a deep breath, folding her arms over her chest. “Well, perhaps now that Natazia is here, we can get the bard to tell less stories and supply useful information.”

To talk to the Hero of the Hill like that baffled Natazia. This girl was raised by a living legend, and didn’t realize she was lucky to have not one, but two paragons for parents. Natazia loved all four of her once-parents, but they would only ever play songs about others, not have songs sung about them. Pelzyq’s nickname for her, the Ice Princess, couldn’t be more apt.

Natazia’s fingers closed into fists as Abbaz glanced down, sad as his once-daughter ripped the wind from his already tattered sails. “I’m in no hurry,” she said. “I’d love to listen to your stories, and learn from them.”

She ignored Zyryxa’s glare, savoring Abbaz’s smile instead. “I’ll keep it short and sweet,” he said.

Zyryxa scoffed. “Grab a chair, Natazia.” She herself lingered near the door.

Fucking prissy bitch, Natazia thought. “Gladly,” she said, sitting across from the Hero.

Abbaz put his lute down and let out a soft sigh. “Antryx Mir is a dark warren of tunnels leading deeper into the depths of Volqor. Monsters who don’t need light reside there, waiting for folks to fall into their traps. Among them, the deadliest are wyrms and worms.”

Natazia grinned at the wordplay, leaning forward, unable to keep her expression stoic as she sat this close to him. Abbaz could make even the deadliest creatures in the world sound light. No doubt he had no issues in his time in those wondrous depths.

Zyryxa shook her head. “Enough wordplay, bard. Speak plainly.”

Natazia glared at her. “Let the story be told properly, Zyryxa, and be grateful.”

Another scoff, matched with rolling eyes.

Abbaz frowned at them. “Avoid patches of acid, for that is the work of a giganaska. Without fighting in light, it is folly to engage one of them. Go the other way, even if you must travel for days to find another passage through the depths.”

“Don’t fight the gigantic acid worm in the dark,” Natazia said, grinning at him. “I think I’ll have an easy time remembering that one. Did you encounter one?”

“I saw the acid. Zyrthalla made us go back, losing days of travel. I’ll admit I wanted to test myself against the beast, but I didn’t want to risk her life for my pride.”

“You did the right thing,” Natazia said.

“I’ve always thought so. Though few people have ever defeated a giganaska, and none in the dark, I’d rather have my years with her, than a song.” Tears filled his eyes and he reached for his lute.

“Don’t talk about her like she was fragile,” Zyryxa snapped.

Abbaz played a beautiful melody, one Natazia didn’t recognize. “She was the toughest person I’ve ever known, Zyryxa. But, even knights and champions can fall. To risk someone so special for mere glory…” He shook his head. “I went back, and it was one of the easiest decisions I ever made.”

That shut the Ice Princess up. She gave her irresistible curt nod, finally giving some respect where it was due.

“What other dangers should we expect?” Natazia asked.

“Foul creatures that can swallow light. If your torch goes out, turn around.” He laughed. “That one was fun, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Noted,” Natazia said, leaning so far forward she almost fell out of her chair.

“There are spiders down there that are ancient and the size of wyrms, with armies of broodlings with armored carapace. Entire sections of the tunnels belong to them.”

“Beware the webs,” Natazia said.

Abbaz nodded. “Also, beware your standard variety of wyrm. There is a wealth of rock and crystal in the depths. They can grow to be a thousand years old and never worry about food sources. Sometimes,” Abbaz said, as if from memory, “you may be blessed to see, or more likely hear, two wyrms and their wyrmlings battling for territory ripe with crystal.”

“Sounds fun,” she said, meaning it true.

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“I can agree with that,” Zyryxa said. “How did you navigate Antryx Mir? If there are so many paths, how do you find the ice golems?”

“We followed the glowing mushrooms, marking our trails as we went. Thalla and I stopped at every crystalline hot spring we found and—"

“And rested up,” Zyryxa filled in, rushing to get the words in.

Snorting, Abbaz nodded. “It is important to restore your spirits when you wander in the dark for days. These caverns lit by crystal are free of the denizens of the dark and offer every opportunity for relief.”

Natazia read between the lines, grinning at Zyryxa’s discomfort. What did she expect? Princesses weren’t born from ice, but the passion of the king and queen. Gazing at Abbaz, at the muscle definition, the grandeur, those blue eyes, even that haggard beard… Zyrthalla was a fortunate queen.

She twisted her neck, meeting Zyryxa’s eyes. If Pelzyq and Lexyn were paired off…

The princess was, after all, even more beautiful than either the king or the queen.

Feeling her heart pounding, their eyes darted aside, not daring to cross paths again or meet Abbaz’s slightly upturned lips or the glint in his eyes. Yet, Natazia’s thoughts drifted away, imagining that another person’s touch could be sweet. That quiet ache within her stirred, one sore from being touched too many times in ways that left one bitter and broken.

“Even in the dark,” Abbaz said, clearing his throat, “it is important to see each other. I saw more of Zyrthalla’s character in those days than I had ever before. I wouldn’t trade a moment of it for easier time spent in the sun. Trials like Antryx Mir can forge chains that will never break. I can only hope that when in the dark, you both find the light in your companions, and see how much they shine.”

Natazia nodded, promising to keep her eyes open. She forced a smile for the Hero. “The trials are meant to temper our souls, to make us a higher form of Ice. Knowing that I have worthy allies at my side, I’m looking forward to them.”

“Me too,” Zyryxa said, softening. “Natazia is a fierce warrior and has made every right call so far. Pelzyq is brave and loyal. And Lexyn…” she paused, taking in a deep breath for her favored broodmate. “Lexyn is like raw qoryxite, durable and beautiful with tremendous potential. People like you,” she said, grinning at her once-father, “will be singing songs about us for a long time.”

It was Zyryxa’s alternating arrogance and kindness that made it so hard for Natazia to settle on how she felt for this girl. Well, that and, if she was honest, envy. This was her trial, she was the leader, but it felt like she wasn’t even the main character in her own story.

Abbaz beamed. “I hope to be around to hear them.”

“I hope,” Zyryxa said, going sharp again, “there will be new songs about you.” She took a step toward the Hero of the Hill. “Songs that make me proud to…” she hesitated, glancing at Natazia, “know you.”

Abbaz lowered his eyes to his lute, though he didn’t strum. “Zyrthalla and I spent over a moon in the dark before we found two ice golems. Thankfully, they were together. The fight lasted less than ten heartbeats.”

“I am sure,” Natazia said, “that ten of your heartbeats might be worth more than ten of mine.”

Abbaz shook his head. “Don’t say that, Natazia. Every heart beats the same. Whether it bleeds blue, orange, or red. Don’t underestimate the ice golem, but even more, don’t underestimate yourself. You were chosen for this trial for good reason: you’re good enough.”

Natazia hid her face. She wanted to thank him, but the voice in her head was too strong. You’re nothing without me. She tried to add Abbaz’s voice to her mind, like a song that could play over this one that never stopped. She imagined Hatrox, looming over her, pissing on her as he told her she was nothing. She tried to fight against him, but knew how that had always ended. Even the Hero of the Hill couldn’t change the scars writ upon her, but she promised to remember his words, to try to believe them.

“What of the obruox of Lazael?” Zyryxa asked.

“One more thing about Antryx Mir,” Abbaz said, changing his song to “All That Remains.”

Natazia looked up to find tears in her hero’s beautiful blue seers. “Qorzillux.”

“Qorzillux poses no danger to me,” Zyryxa said, her voice going high.

“A dragon bereft of their bond can be unpredictable for many years,” Abbaz said, Natazia wishing she could heal the pain she heard in his voice.

“I’ve also heard a dragon retains some of the sentience of their rider,” Zyryxa said, speaking slowly, trying not to cry.

Abbaz said nothing, falling into the melody rendered broken by a pair of missing strings where many of the notes belonged. “Lazael,” he coughed. “Lazael is the quickest of the trials, but I promise you it is also the deadliest.”

Natazia rose from her seat. She paced the room, remembering the frozen lake her once-parents told her to always avoid. No place was more accursed, yet the four of them had chosen to build their homestead beside it.

“The obruox are what remains of Zamael’s hatred toward Qoryxa during the Divine Fratricide,” Abbaz explained, still playing that melancholic melody. “Forever our Champion, Qoryxa fought against the Divine of Death, fought for us all to have futures. Death met her and thousands of Ice Tribe warriors at Lazael. The obruox are those who perished in the battle. Cursed to live forever without their souls, with the sole purpose of expanding their number. Defeating one proves to Qoryxa that you too will stand against death and corruption.

“The monsters persist beneath the lake’s ice, waiting for trespassers to fall through, still trying to swell Zamael’s ranks. You need to lure them out without letting them pull you down into their grave.” Abbaz sighed, shaking his head. “Both Zyrthalla and I were nearly drowned, saved only because we watched out for each other. Even though they’re weak above the waters, do not take them lightly.”

“I won’t,” Natazia promised.

“How do you lure them up?” Zyryxa asked.

“There is only one way,” Abbaz said, his voice as much a dirge as the song itself.

Natazia was no stranger to the legends of the obruox. For years, they were used to threaten her for any insolence. “They seek what they’re deprived of: life, warmth, souls.”

“Yes,” Abbaz said, offering her a full smile. “Very good, Natazia.”

Her heart pounded with pride. She lowered her eyes, feeling unworthy.

“Simple enough,” Zyryxa said. “How do we find a vordt in Pryxvalliz?”

“The Vordt were canine pets of Qoryxa, they—"

“How do we find them?” Zyryxa demanded, hand on the door knob.

Abbaz looked defeated, like he’d just lost a ten round wrestling match. Sometimes, Zyryxa really infuriated her.

“Fire.” Abbaz said. “Like any creature of the cold, they hate fire. If you don’t use fire, they will find you long before you find them and—”

“We will neve wake up,” Zyryxa interrupted. “We know.”

“How are they in a head-on battle?” Natazia asked.

“Fast, vicious, and they fight in mobs,” Abbaz said. “Isolate them and the pack will fight hard to reunite. You have to be quicker and more vicious to bring one down, or make clever use of fire to disorient them. Kill one and they’ll fight you to the death.”

Zyryxa swung the door open. “Thanks for the information, bard. He already told me about the qione and tarandrux,” she explained to Natazia.

“Zyryxa!”

The Ice Princess lingered at the doorway. “What?”

“Take care of yourself,” Abbaz said. “And remember,” he glanced at Natazia, clenching his jaw, then shifted his eyes back to his once-daughter, “that you are loved.”

Zyryxa’s eyes narrowed, yet she swallowed. She cleared a lump in her throat. “Find your strength, bard. Love yourself.”

Without another glance, she left, leaving the door open behind her.

Natazia, feeling like a snow sprite on the wall, needed to excuse herself. “I have to tell her where we’re meeting up.” She bowed, unable to make herself leave. “Thank you so much. For your stories, for your kind words.” She met his gaze. “You are good enough.”

Abbaz frowned. “Perhaps for some,” he whispered. “But being good enough for some is never a good enough reason to stop trying to be better.”

“You don’t need to change yourself for her approval,” Natazia said, “as long as you’re good enough for yourself.”

“Wise words,” he said, though his voice was hollow.

Natazia knew wise words usually weren’t enough to change hearts. Abbaz, Gaeliz, Vaztyma, or Qoryxa herself could shower her in wise words, in praise, and Hatrox’s voice would still cut through them all, reminding her that she wasn’t good enough every time he pushed her down.

“May we meet again,” she said, bowing again.

He nodded. “Until then. Take care of yourself and watch out for my … my Zyryxa.”

Natazia nodded, then chased after Zyryxa.

To the Sapphire of the Sea, she thought. To plan the rest of our rite. Yet, she knew the next step and any excitement she’d built listening to Abbaz bled out of her.

For Nix Tezyk, the obvious next step, was within range of Riverwatch. She knew as sure as Zamael claimed them all in the end, Hatrox would find her.