Nothing seemed out of place, yet there was a quiet voice screaming in the back of his mind.
White. White everywhere around him. An undisturbed and tranquil Winter. Unlike the urgent inflection in the familiar and insistent voice in the back of his mind.
Oh. That's right.
He'd jumped off a ledge.
Now why had he done that?
The last thing Zeal could remember was that the rolling white hills had given way to a deathly still forest, silent enough to give the grim reaper pause.
Would've, had it not been for this incessant feeling that something was amiss.
The Shol finally looked up from where he was crouched on the bank, dazed from projecting himself into the aether.
It sounded like Vye.
But Shols rarely raised their voice. Could not, in fact, for their vocals were much limited and it strained them greatly to project their voices in such a shrill manner.
Somewhere far away he could head the panic stricken cries, but everything was oddly muted in the background. It was calm. Cold, but calm.
Even the irritation at the hindrances keeping him from sleep seemed dulled as he languidly rolled onto his side, vision swimming.
Huh. It didn't normally do that.
He wanted to sleep, but the voice kept at it, screaming at him relentlessly.
But Shols rarely raised their voice. Could not, in fact, for their vocals were much limited and it strained them greatly to project their voices in such a shrill manner.
Somewhere far away he could head the panic stricken cries, but everything was oddly muted in the background. It was calm. Cold, but calm.
Even the irritation at the hindrances keeping him from sleep seemed dulled as he languidly rolled onto his side, vision swimming.
Huh. It didn't normally do that.
He wanted to sleep, but the voice kept at it, screaming at him relentlessly.
Why was it doing that?
... Why was he here?
Oh. That's right.
He'd jumped off a ledge.
Now why had he done that?
The last thing Zeal could remember was that the rolling white hills had given way to a deathly still forest, silent enough to give the grim reaper pause.
His head hurt as he tried to remember more. With a grimace he closed his eyes, he felt so tired.
Everything had been quiet. Still enough to convince his companion that they were out of harm's way, for they would surely know otherwise in the stillness.
It was as cold as it was beautiful.
Vye having deemed it safe after a preliminary scan of their vicinity, crawled out of the warmth of the pouch hidden under his cloak and wasted no Time in digging through the snow while the mercenary kept watch. The moment his hand touched the earth, did he go still, searching for the Poffmoss. A puffball fungi would help their bodies acclimate to the thinner atmosphere and keep altitude sickness at bay.
"Up ahead--there should be a patch."
The mercenary nodded as he set down his pack, and traipsed through the snow, breath coming in white puffs. It was tiresome, working through the deep snow. That and even as his boots sunk knee high into the snow, he couldn't feel a firm ground beneath him. It was mildly unsettling and more than once the snow gave way with a crunch to an empty pocket formed by collapsed debris of what he assumed to be from trees, branches, and stone.
A little farther up as Vye predicted, he found a clump of them, sitting like snowballs atop the snow.
It was an interesting sight to see, their hefty mass making slight imprints in the snow. Exactly like its namesake, the Poffmoss was a spherical, white, and puffy ball. He collected a couple specimens for Vye and had been on his way back.
It was as cold as it was beautiful.
"Up ahead--there should be a patch."
The mercenary nodded as he set down his pack, and traipsed through the snow, breath coming in white puffs. It was tiresome, working through the deep snow. That and even as his boots sunk knee high into the snow, he couldn't feel a firm ground beneath him. It was mildly unsettling and more than once the snow gave way with a crunch to an empty pocket formed by collapsed debris of what he assumed to be from trees, branches, and stone.
A little farther up as Vye predicted, he found a clump of them, sitting like snowballs atop the snow.
It was an interesting sight to see, their hefty mass making slight imprints in the snow. Exactly like its namesake, the Poffmoss was a spherical, white, and puffy ball. He collected a couple specimens for Vye and had been on his way back.
Then--then...
Suddenly he went still, eyes darting across the white expanse. Nothing stood out. Zeal's brow furrowed and he stared hard as his ears strained to hear through the silence.
He had almost kept going.
Would've, had it not been for this incessant feeling that something was amiss.
One's instinct didn't always make sense. But he had learned not to be so dismissive of the inexplicable and at Times nonsensical pulls of the 6th sense.
"Vye." He whispered.
Something was wrong. Really wrong.
It was subtle, a slight hiss of something sliding atop the snow.
The pure white, so light and calm, had lulled them into a false sense of security. And therein lies the danger.
His eyes widened as they locked with something just beneath the white powdery snow.
"Vye."
Everything looked the same in the snow blanketed landscape.
Just as there were things that hid in the shadows, so too were they concealed in the blinding white and deathly still forest.
For that was exactly what it was.
Zeal stared at the stark white of the ice-locked skull by his feet, staring up at him from beneath the glassy surface of the permafrost that had been hidden by the fresh snowfall.
Deathly still.
"Vye!"
The Shol was still a good distance away.
He'd been careless. Underestimated how cumbersome the snow could be, and wandered too far. Too far to be able to reach him in Time.
The hissing was louder now.
The Shol was still a good distance away.
He'd been careless. Underestimated how cumbersome the snow could be, and wandered too far. Too far to be able to reach him in Time.
The hissing was louder now.
Well.
Vye had been right about one thing. In the stillness he could hear that which was normally inaudible over the sounds of nature, be it wind or life.
If it had not then he wouldn't have heard it coming until it was too late.
If it had not then he wouldn't have heard it coming until it was too late.
And though he loathed the thought, might still be too late.
The Shol finally looked up from where he was crouched on the bank, dazed from projecting himself into the aether.
And what he saw then only tightened the noose of desperation.
Still loopy as he drew his consciousness back, Vye smiled fondly at him. A smile filled with the warmth that the Shol held for him. Had finally begun to open up and trust him with. A bond not borne of desperation and the obligation of circumstance.
"Vye, get over here now!" He roared, hand instinctively going for the concealed weapon he kept duly on his person.
In a fluid stroke the dagger sailed true through the air, sinking deep into the rising wave of white behind Vye without wavering, and splattering the pure white with a shocking bloom of crimson.
In a fluid stroke the dagger sailed true through the air, sinking deep into the rising wave of white behind Vye without wavering, and splattering the pure white with a shocking bloom of crimson.
A furious, ear-piercing screech rang out as the wave broke and the trees and rocks slid around them. To his dismay his pack was swept away in the avalanche, and nearly buried.
Vye stumbled back over the shifting snow and sprinted behind Zeal, "What--what is that?"
Vye stumbled back over the shifting snow and sprinted behind Zeal, "What--what is that?"
"... Chryoanguis. Giant roaming frost serpents that the Sherpas call 'Criers'. Stay close."
Chryoanguis, or the 'Cry of Anguish', were so named by their lonesome shrieks, and the last of that of their victims which announce their presence. Beasts of legend believed to be the manifestation of Winter itself--beautiful, cold, harsh, ruthless, and daunting.
Zeal kept his eyes ahead of him.
Although...
His eyes darted to the icy coils surrounding them. Criers were not known to grow more than a kilometer in length. Judging by its width alone, this particular specimen was more than a league.
Though he let none of the trepidation show upon his visage, the situation was more than dire. He had thrown the dagger, and more importantly, the only weapon on his person. Not that the knife would've done much good against the tremendous beast before them.
He didn't want to use this weapon, Not in front of Vye. But he couldn't reach his pack where his claymore was without exposing the young Shol.
"Vye, I take it back--"
His short companion looked up at his name.
"--run and hide. I'll call with the usual signal when it's over."
"... Don't die." and the small form huddling against his leg was gone.
He waited for as long as he could, stalling in hopes that Vye wouldn't sense the aetherical change. But there wasn't enough Time as the white wave reared up again.
Chryoanguis, or the 'Cry of Anguish', were so named by their lonesome shrieks, and the last of that of their victims which announce their presence. Beasts of legend believed to be the manifestation of Winter itself--beautiful, cold, harsh, ruthless, and daunting.
Zeal kept his eyes ahead of him.
Although...
His eyes darted to the icy coils surrounding them. Criers were not known to grow more than a kilometer in length. Judging by its width alone, this particular specimen was more than a league.
Though he let none of the trepidation show upon his visage, the situation was more than dire. He had thrown the dagger, and more importantly, the only weapon on his person. Not that the knife would've done much good against the tremendous beast before them.
He didn't want to use this weapon, Not in front of Vye. But he couldn't reach his pack where his claymore was without exposing the young Shol.
"Vye, I take it back--"
His short companion looked up at his name.
"--run and hide. I'll call with the usual signal when it's over."
"... Don't die." and the small form huddling against his leg was gone.
He waited for as long as he could, stalling in hopes that Vye wouldn't sense the aetherical change. But there wasn't enough Time as the white wave reared up again.
The bone circlets on his wrists grew warm, arcane runes pulsing as it flooded with his magick, twisting and lengthening. An elongated, wicked, and curved blade protruded from the top, glistening dangerously.
A chilling cold seemed to seep into him, prickling up his back, and Vye shuddered at the sensation he had hoped never to know again. Swiveling around at the unfamiliar and sudden swell of aethor, he was faced with a sight that left him unable to draw breath.
The cruel blade gleamed in the mercenary's hands, and Vye shrunk away from him, eyes large and gripped with a borderline hysterical fear.
His young charge stumbled away, huddling against the broken trunk of an evergreen.
Not good.
"Vye, run."
But he didn't budge.
A large silvery crescent hung low in the night sky, its radiance drowning out the stars.
Terror rooted him in place, and he stared, transfixed by the scythe in Zeal's hands.
There was smoke, the air hazy, particles resonating with the terrifying Mandragora's Shriek, the horrid screech amplified by the multitude of--
"Vye move!"
He stared at Zeal's back, at the dark scythe in his hands, the curved sickle glinting cruelly at him.
Vye stared at him, perplexity and hurt overtaking rationality as he beheld the customary scythe, "You're a reaper."
"Now is not the Time." he grimaced, dodging snapping jaws and struggling to keep himself between the Crier and Vye.
"I need you to get out of here. Now." Zeal kept his eyes locked on the monstrous form rising before him. He could almost hear the questions that Vye hadn't voiced, "I wont hurt you. Remember that."
Familiar though the scythe was, nestled in his hands, the short range it afforded was a disadvantage. That and it wasn't just himself that he had to defend.
The crier glared at him, eyes almost luminous as the tapetum lucidum reflected the harsh light. It howled, fangs bared as it surged towards him, losing all pretense of camouflage as its thundered through the snow.
His first instinct was to dodge, but he couldn't--not with Vye behind him.
Zeal grit his teeth and braced himself, scythe held out in front of him and a soft blue light of a warding bubble was erected, enveloping him.
The frostbeast crashed into the shield and Zeal felt a sharp pain as the aether cracked, and shattered.
It came tumbling through, the massive form striking him with nary a breath between and sending him into the air with jarring impact.
The world spun and his shoulder a throbbing pain as he slammed into a stray trunk, falling heavily through a plethora of branches that broke his descent. Not enough to keep the air from getting knocked out of him.
But he forced himself to his feet, as the crier circled closer, "Vye, get out of here!"
The Shol fell silent and at last he heard the crunching of snow as Vye fled.
Finally.
A low snarl and the serpent dived at him, he barely leapt out of the way. Where the snow impeded his movements, it only seemed to make the frostbeast faster. In the veritable sleet kicked up in the serpent's wake, it was difficult to see.
The creature's ice affinity only worsened the storm. Zeal could barely keep his eyes open against the barrage of heavy sleet.
It was too bloody cold for this. Low visibility, movement hampered, and the--
The beast was gone he realized, and dove blindly through the storm.
Not a moment too soon, as the snow burst from beneath him, Zeal barely flipping out of the gaping maw in Time.
Icy fangs tore into his right side, slicing easily through the thick leather of his cloak and cotton undershirt. They burned icy hot, and pain flooded through him. To his amazement he didn't feel blood, and with a slow gnawing irritation, he stared down at the blackened flesh. Frostbite. The bloody thing had given him frostbite.
Necrosis was creeping slowly through the torn flesh, travelling quickest through his vessels and appearing like ashen roots underneath the skin. The open wound already frozen stiff.
How clever. And bloody inconvenient.
But to his surprise it didn't deliver another blow. The frostbeast flew past him towards--
--where Vye had taken off into the brush.
Zeal lunged for it, scythe scraping against its side.
The serpent roared and turned on him.
He tisked and flew across the snow in a full out sprint, he couldn't afford to let the beast ambush him again.
Get off the ground.
Zeal took to the branches as the serpent slithered after him. It was much swifter leaping through the trees where the footing was solid, but it did little to impede its astonishing speed. The crier plowed through unbothered, brushing the trees in its path aside as if they were much mere sticks. Though given the sheer girth of the creature they may as well have been.
Something had to be done to slow its wild thrashing.
Twisting around he brought his scythe up in a full arc, swiveling his feet as he brought the shining blade down, the shockwave struck the Crier head on and it hissed angrily, thrashing its head before continuing pursuit.
This wouldn't work. Just the aftershock wasn't enough to cut through its scales.
He couldn't get close to the writhing coils, it could all too easily crush him should his cold-slowed body react a second too late.
With a grimace he shot up.
Zeal burst through the canopy, to a serene expanse of snowcapped trees and peaks.
The world was oddly still for a peaceful moment as he hung in the air.
Knowing how fleeting it was only made the whole thing stranger.
And then a huge burst of white exploded upwards behind him, showering the world below with a powdery spray of snow.
The Crier screeched as it breached the canopy, jaws outstretched.
Zeal dashed across the branches. He had a heading now. The trees wouldn't stop it, but he doubted even a thing of that size would be able to move mountains.
He reached the sheer rock face and climbed the ledges.
As predicted the serpent was stuck roiling at the base. It hissed angrily at him, lunging up to strike, and he hastily climbed higher still.
Zeal wasn't one to leave things to luck.
The icy surface made it difficult to stay on, and now that he was out of the protection of the trees, the howling winds seem to tear deep, he wouldn't be able to stay in the unprotected cold for long.
His side twinged and he touched the blackened flesh.
But that was neither here nor there. It wouldn't help him.
Whereas Zeal would soon succumb to the cold, the Crier was perfectly at home with the sub-zero temperature.
And the serpent knew.
It had cornered its prey.
And yet, denying reason, it snarled its triumph, and gave up chase.
Zeal grit his teeth, why was it so doggedly pursuing the Shol?
Muttering an incantation, a deep heart radiated from his core, flooding his body and made his limbs nimble once more. At a full sprint, he leapt off.
The gaping maw opened beneath him with reflexes unhindered, and he swung his scythe in a full arc, using the rebounding wave to flip over the Crier--and onto its back.
There was one thing that Criers despised.
The blade sliced deep into the serpent's body and it screeched as the blade glowed bright, its flesh sizzling with the heat.
He darted off its back as the tail slammed down, and sliced at the crier again.
But the spell was only temporary, and the blissful warmth that had pervaded his body was but a fleeting buff.
The cold was seeping in again, and he felt his side seize up. Zeal grit his teeth, the frostbite.
With a whirling leap, the scythe dug deep into the creature's neck and it howled, the ground shaking as it slumped.
Vye must've felt that, meaning they were likely already making their way back to him.
Still, he wouldn't drop his guard just yet. Only after he had ascertained that the Crier was properly incapacitated, would he deem it safe enough to signal for Vye.
And sure enough just as he was about to check the crier, there was a familiar presence. But his charge didn't remain hidden as he'd instructed and oft reminded him.
The thickets rustled, and a small form appeared.
Despite their differences, disobedience was one thing Vye had never before taken to, much to Zeal's relief. The disapproval, he was sure, was evident in his aggravated glare. Curious or not, this was crossing the line. Criers were no jest, especially a Sovereign such as this one.
"You're a reaper."
Oh. Right.
The scythe rested, an unaltered and familiar weight he had carried far longer than he cared to remember, and yet it had never felt heavier than it did now at the accusation.
Having his scythe drawn would only make matters worse.
The blade vanished, circlets firmly around his wrists once more, and he reached out for the other, "Vye, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you--"
And was promptly slapped. It was the first Time Vye had shown such aggression. Had struck him.
And he recoiled, more out of surprise than actual pain or anything else. And a reluctance to rile his young charge further.
Definitely not pain. The young Shol hardly had any strength to his name."You were one of the ones who took them!"
"Vye! Stop that!" Zeal stumbled back, eyes stinging as the thin air grew hazy with pollen, "Bloody hell--if I had any intention to, you wouldn't be here now!"
His sheer dedication to this venture should be more than enough, surely.
"I don't want to be here!" he shrieked, pained eyes wild and livid with what could only be anguish, "They're gone! They're all gone! I'm the only one left, and I don't want to be the only one left--left behind! It's not--it's not fair--!"
"Life's not fair!" Zeal snapped back. He really shouldn't have, but his patience was wearing thin with the intensifying pain, and the Shol was being bloody insufferable.
"And neither were you! No secrets? Liar!"
The snow around him burst up and he was ensnared by a multitude of vines. Bloody hell. And were those thorns biting into him? That was just unnecessary.
The vines jerked, forcing him into a kneel with his hands held in a vice behind his back. Zeal grimaced, it was stretching his wound uncomfortably. But he would bite his tongue and instead stared up unflinchingly to meet the eyes he had never seen so livid, his own darkened with a roiling anger.
"I'm only alive because of my blood! Because of idiots who only after the fact, realized that without the flowers, there can't be any nectar!"
It wouldn't take much to cut or burn them away, but it wouldn't help get through to Vye. Let the Shol think he was in control.
"You're just another one of those who annihilated them all. They're gone and nothing--nothing will bring them back!" Vye snarled, teeth bared.
He really shouldn't have, and he regretted it the moment it left his lips. Caught up in the heat of the moment, he could tolerate no more of indulging the whimsies of Vye's fury.
"Then just give up if it's so wretched to go on! Go off yourself if you're so miserable for all the good that will do, just like the rest of your pathetic kind!"
Vye froze, body trembling as he fought back the angry tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.
Thoughts bubbled up one after another, though he voiced none of them.
Because on his shoulders weighed the lives of far too many.
Too many had been lost.
Too many have died.
Sacrificed that he might survive.
And still many more, should he give up.
Because if he gave up, it was the end.
Because giving up meant losing the lives that the future may bring.
And giving up hope of ever feeling the warmth of kin again.
Because--because he didn't know what else to do.
Too long, he had wanted nothing more than to give up. Yet the same part of him wouldn't cease, wouldn't relent. A small voice that hoped beyond hope that there were others out there. That the brethren he lost, could still be found. That someday things could--and would--return to the way they were.
He didn't want to hurt anymore. Everything only hurt, and kept hurting. He was so tired of the pain. There had been too much of it already, he didn't need more.
The truth was, Zeal was right. There wasn't a point to this. To any of this. Nothing would bring them back. Nothing would stop the hurt from hurting. There probably weren't even any of his kind out there.
Not anymore.
And that was exactly what was waiting for him. What would be at the end of this merry chase.
Nothing.
A small voice screamed at him not to do this, he couldn't do this, not now. Couldn't think like this, or he'd fall into despair. He had to keep moving, it didn't matter if it was a step forward or back, so long as he kept going.
But that didn't stop the muffled sniffles that broke into a crescendo of half, muffled wails that bubbled up in his throat.
"Vye--I... I didn't mean--" Zeal opened his mouth to speak, struggling to find the words to right things. But a sudden rumble deep in the Earth had them both still, cutting off any attempts the mercenary made to make amends.
It wasn't dead. He had forgotten to check the Crier what with his little spat with Vye.
"Vye." Zeal grit his teeth, cursing to himself.
Vye was going through a sensitive Time, but such was Life, and he would have to learn. Life was cruel, and unfair. Death, grieving, mourning--all were luxuries none could afford when contending with Life. "Get rid of these vines. Now."
But Vye was nowhere to be seen.
"Vye!"
Oh forget it.
With a flash the vines were gone, his scythe once more nestled in his hands.
A giant coil slammed into the snow and there was a thunderous rumble.
The snow slid.
And the serpent turned its furious gaze upon him.
It howled and dove at him and he braced himself, hastily climbing to his feet, too late to dodge--and readying himself for the anticipated jarring impact of its charge.
But the blow didn't come.
The frost serpent cried out, rearing out of its charge.
Zeal stared as vines digging into the cut he had opened earlier. The crier whirled around at the small Shol kneeling beside the open wound, hands on the vines that had distracted it.
A thick tail slammed down on top of the segment, and Zeal grimaced, his body screaming as he ran, the last of his thermal magic quite literally burning out, and Vye clutched under his arm.
"You idiot." he grit out, "Get out of here!"
A deep howl and the ground behind them was once more trembling as the frostbeast came tunneling after them.
The two burst through the treeline, and an open ravine stretched under them.
Zeal jerked to a stop, feet dipping over the ledge.
He locked eyes with that of his young charge.
So young. So worn. So haunted.
Heh.
Steeling himself, he gave his young charge a stiff grin, gritting through the beating his body had taken, "How well can Shols fly?"
Vye scrabbled at him frantically, but before the Shol could answer, he chuckled, "It was just a jest."
Putting as much as he had left in his half frozen body, the Seeker spun in a full swing, and hurled Vye as hard as he could, flinging the small form to the side and far into the distance.
He landed with a distinct plop and Zeal breathed a sigh of relief that it was snow and not rock.
Lucky throw.
His shaky arm fell to rest at his side. His aim had been true, he hadn't missed.
That was the last thing he remembered before the treeline burst with an avalanche of snow. The surreal, timeless moment of complete and utter relief. Before he turned to the the Crier a gave it a spiteful look, grinning, "Not today."
And leapt back.
...
So that happened.
Zeal groaned. Was Vye safe? Had the crier found him? Or had he distracted the beast? Obviously not well enough or it would've gone after him.
"Zeal!" Small hands were tugging at him, jostling his wound, and he grunted in pain.
"No, Zeal! Don't go, don't go, don't go! Wake up, you have to wake up! I don't want to be alone again--!" an all too familiar weight pressed against his midsection.
He peeked an eye open to stare up at a blurry face.
"Stop that." he grumbled, "I'm tired."
Idly he noted the feeling of something coiling around him. Vines. These better not be thorned he thought, grimacing.
They weren't.
He was hoisted into the air, and after what felt like hours, felt snow beneath him. Had he fallen that far? The ravine had been deep.
The Shol dragged him into the cover of the trees, the thickets were better than open grounds at the very least.
"What happened to the crier?"
"It--it left suddenly. But Zeal, you're hurt--and cold! The wound, your fall--have to get you warmed up, fast."
Huh. How odd.
Zeal cracked an eye open and laughed to himself, drawing Vye's attention away from the pathetic fire pile he was trying to make. It almost made him chuckle.
"So what now? Are you going to try and kill me?" Zeal snorted.
"No--you'll undo those vines and kill me before I can even try, and--"
Ah. So he knew.
"... and--I'm not strong enough on my own. I need you." Vye sat, legs fanned on either side of him and hands wounding into his pant sleeves, unable to find any other purchase.
Though it hadn't been out of frustration as Zeal had first believed, but fear, "I... I don't want to be... left alone again."
Vye glared at the ground, "I need y-your help."
Zeal grinned through the pain, "Atta boy."
"I hate you." Vye sniffled, the vines finally slithering off of Zeal. "I hate you!"
Zeal rubbed at his wrists, "I know."
He drew the Shol to him and Vye clung to him, hugging him hard and obliviously making him tense as the small arms tightened painfully around the frostbite. The Shol didn't seem to notice, blurry eyes glaring up at him, even as he returned the gesture, "You're mean. You don't play fair."
"I know."
They stayed there for a moment, Vye out of relief, and Zeal much too tired from his wounds to be bothered with most anything.
"Well isn't this sweet." a merry voice called to them.
It was just one thing after another today it seemed.
Zeal tensed at the new voice. He hadn't felt them at all, and for a moment he thought perhaps he was hallucinating.
An icy blue figure garbed in nothing but a heavy brown shawl clapped for them, seemingly perfectly at home in the arctic cold and glacial freeze.
As they stepped closer, Zeal realized it wasn't hair, but spindly garlands of needles that decorated them.
"You're a Shol."
A chilling cold seemed to seep into him, prickling up his back, and Vye shuddered at the sensation he had hoped never to know again. Swiveling around at the unfamiliar and sudden swell of aethor, he was faced with a sight that left him unable to draw breath.
The cruel blade gleamed in the mercenary's hands, and Vye shrunk away from him, eyes large and gripped with a borderline hysterical fear.
His young charge stumbled away, huddling against the broken trunk of an evergreen.
Not good.
"Vye, run."
But he didn't budge.
A large silvery crescent hung low in the night sky, its radiance drowning out the stars.
There was smoke, the air hazy, particles resonating with the terrifying Mandragora's Shriek, the horrid screech amplified by the multitude of--
"Vye move!"
He stared at Zeal's back, at the dark scythe in his hands, the curved sickle glinting cruelly at him.
Vye stared at him, perplexity and hurt overtaking rationality as he beheld the customary scythe, "You're a reaper."
"Now is not the Time." he grimaced, dodging snapping jaws and struggling to keep himself between the Crier and Vye.
"I need you to get out of here. Now." Zeal kept his eyes locked on the monstrous form rising before him. He could almost hear the questions that Vye hadn't voiced, "I wont hurt you. Remember that."
Familiar though the scythe was, nestled in his hands, the short range it afforded was a disadvantage. That and it wasn't just himself that he had to defend.
The crier glared at him, eyes almost luminous as the tapetum lucidum reflected the harsh light. It howled, fangs bared as it surged towards him, losing all pretense of camouflage as its thundered through the snow.
His first instinct was to dodge, but he couldn't--not with Vye behind him.
Zeal grit his teeth and braced himself, scythe held out in front of him and a soft blue light of a warding bubble was erected, enveloping him.
The frostbeast crashed into the shield and Zeal felt a sharp pain as the aether cracked, and shattered.
It came tumbling through, the massive form striking him with nary a breath between and sending him into the air with jarring impact.
The world spun and his shoulder a throbbing pain as he slammed into a stray trunk, falling heavily through a plethora of branches that broke his descent. Not enough to keep the air from getting knocked out of him.
But he forced himself to his feet, as the crier circled closer, "Vye, get out of here!"
The Shol fell silent and at last he heard the crunching of snow as Vye fled.
Finally.
A low snarl and the serpent dived at him, he barely leapt out of the way. Where the snow impeded his movements, it only seemed to make the frostbeast faster. In the veritable sleet kicked up in the serpent's wake, it was difficult to see.
The creature's ice affinity only worsened the storm. Zeal could barely keep his eyes open against the barrage of heavy sleet.
It was too bloody cold for this. Low visibility, movement hampered, and the--
The beast was gone he realized, and dove blindly through the storm.
Not a moment too soon, as the snow burst from beneath him, Zeal barely flipping out of the gaping maw in Time.
Icy fangs tore into his right side, slicing easily through the thick leather of his cloak and cotton undershirt. They burned icy hot, and pain flooded through him. To his amazement he didn't feel blood, and with a slow gnawing irritation, he stared down at the blackened flesh. Frostbite. The bloody thing had given him frostbite.
Necrosis was creeping slowly through the torn flesh, travelling quickest through his vessels and appearing like ashen roots underneath the skin. The open wound already frozen stiff.
How clever. And bloody inconvenient.
But to his surprise it didn't deliver another blow. The frostbeast flew past him towards--
--where Vye had taken off into the brush.
Zeal lunged for it, scythe scraping against its side.
The serpent roared and turned on him.
He tisked and flew across the snow in a full out sprint, he couldn't afford to let the beast ambush him again.
Get off the ground.
Zeal took to the branches as the serpent slithered after him. It was much swifter leaping through the trees where the footing was solid, but it did little to impede its astonishing speed. The crier plowed through unbothered, brushing the trees in its path aside as if they were much mere sticks. Though given the sheer girth of the creature they may as well have been.
Something had to be done to slow its wild thrashing.
Twisting around he brought his scythe up in a full arc, swiveling his feet as he brought the shining blade down, the shockwave struck the Crier head on and it hissed angrily, thrashing its head before continuing pursuit.
This wouldn't work. Just the aftershock wasn't enough to cut through its scales.
He couldn't get close to the writhing coils, it could all too easily crush him should his cold-slowed body react a second too late.
With a grimace he shot up.
Zeal burst through the canopy, to a serene expanse of snowcapped trees and peaks.
The world was oddly still for a peaceful moment as he hung in the air.
Knowing how fleeting it was only made the whole thing stranger.
And then a huge burst of white exploded upwards behind him, showering the world below with a powdery spray of snow.
The Crier screeched as it breached the canopy, jaws outstretched.
Zeal dashed across the branches. He had a heading now. The trees wouldn't stop it, but he doubted even a thing of that size would be able to move mountains.
He reached the sheer rock face and climbed the ledges.
As predicted the serpent was stuck roiling at the base. It hissed angrily at him, lunging up to strike, and he hastily climbed higher still.
Zeal wasn't one to leave things to luck.
The icy surface made it difficult to stay on, and now that he was out of the protection of the trees, the howling winds seem to tear deep, he wouldn't be able to stay in the unprotected cold for long.
His side twinged and he touched the blackened flesh.
He scrabbled at the icy stone, seeking shelter from the elements. He wouldn't be able to cling for long, except for the various pockets here or there that were much too narrow for him. Zeal eyed a tunnel, and for once envied Vye's stature.
Whereas Zeal would soon succumb to the cold, the Crier was perfectly at home with the sub-zero temperature.
And the serpent knew.
It had cornered its prey.
And yet, denying reason, it snarled its triumph, and gave up chase.
Zeal grit his teeth, why was it so doggedly pursuing the Shol?
Muttering an incantation, a deep heart radiated from his core, flooding his body and made his limbs nimble once more. At a full sprint, he leapt off.
The gaping maw opened beneath him with reflexes unhindered, and he swung his scythe in a full arc, using the rebounding wave to flip over the Crier--and onto its back.
There was one thing that Criers despised.
The blade sliced deep into the serpent's body and it screeched as the blade glowed bright, its flesh sizzling with the heat.
He darted off its back as the tail slammed down, and sliced at the crier again.
But the spell was only temporary, and the blissful warmth that had pervaded his body was but a fleeting buff.
The cold was seeping in again, and he felt his side seize up. Zeal grit his teeth, the frostbite.
With a whirling leap, the scythe dug deep into the creature's neck and it howled, the ground shaking as it slumped.
Vye must've felt that, meaning they were likely already making their way back to him.
Still, he wouldn't drop his guard just yet. Only after he had ascertained that the Crier was properly incapacitated, would he deem it safe enough to signal for Vye.
The thickets rustled, and a small form appeared.
Despite their differences, disobedience was one thing Vye had never before taken to, much to Zeal's relief. The disapproval, he was sure, was evident in his aggravated glare. Curious or not, this was crossing the line. Criers were no jest, especially a Sovereign such as this one.
"You're a reaper."
Oh. Right.
The scythe rested, an unaltered and familiar weight he had carried far longer than he cared to remember, and yet it had never felt heavier than it did now at the accusation.
Having his scythe drawn would only make matters worse.
And was promptly slapped. It was the first Time Vye had shown such aggression. Had struck him.
And he recoiled, more out of surprise than actual pain or anything else. And a reluctance to rile his young charge further.
Definitely not pain. The young Shol hardly had any strength to his name."You were one of the ones who took them!"
"Vye! Stop that!" Zeal stumbled back, eyes stinging as the thin air grew hazy with pollen, "Bloody hell--if I had any intention to, you wouldn't be here now!"
His sheer dedication to this venture should be more than enough, surely.
"I don't want to be here!" he shrieked, pained eyes wild and livid with what could only be anguish, "They're gone! They're all gone! I'm the only one left, and I don't want to be the only one left--left behind! It's not--it's not fair--!"
"Life's not fair!" Zeal snapped back. He really shouldn't have, but his patience was wearing thin with the intensifying pain, and the Shol was being bloody insufferable.
"And neither were you! No secrets? Liar!"
The snow around him burst up and he was ensnared by a multitude of vines. Bloody hell. And were those thorns biting into him? That was just unnecessary.
The vines jerked, forcing him into a kneel with his hands held in a vice behind his back. Zeal grimaced, it was stretching his wound uncomfortably. But he would bite his tongue and instead stared up unflinchingly to meet the eyes he had never seen so livid, his own darkened with a roiling anger.
"I'm only alive because of my blood! Because of idiots who only after the fact, realized that without the flowers, there can't be any nectar!"
It wouldn't take much to cut or burn them away, but it wouldn't help get through to Vye. Let the Shol think he was in control.
"You're just another one of those who annihilated them all. They're gone and nothing--nothing will bring them back!" Vye snarled, teeth bared.
He really shouldn't have, and he regretted it the moment it left his lips. Caught up in the heat of the moment, he could tolerate no more of indulging the whimsies of Vye's fury.
"Then just give up if it's so wretched to go on! Go off yourself if you're so miserable for all the good that will do, just like the rest of your pathetic kind!"
Vye froze, body trembling as he fought back the angry tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over.
Thoughts bubbled up one after another, though he voiced none of them.
Because on his shoulders weighed the lives of far too many.
Too many had been lost.
Too many have died.
Sacrificed that he might survive.
And still many more, should he give up.
Because if he gave up, it was the end.
And giving up hope of ever feeling the warmth of kin again.
Because--because he didn't know what else to do.
Too long, he had wanted nothing more than to give up. Yet the same part of him wouldn't cease, wouldn't relent. A small voice that hoped beyond hope that there were others out there. That the brethren he lost, could still be found. That someday things could--and would--return to the way they were.
He didn't want to hurt anymore. Everything only hurt, and kept hurting. He was so tired of the pain. There had been too much of it already, he didn't need more.
The truth was, Zeal was right. There wasn't a point to this. To any of this. Nothing would bring them back. Nothing would stop the hurt from hurting. There probably weren't even any of his kind out there.
Not anymore.
And that was exactly what was waiting for him. What would be at the end of this merry chase.
Nothing.
A small voice screamed at him not to do this, he couldn't do this, not now. Couldn't think like this, or he'd fall into despair. He had to keep moving, it didn't matter if it was a step forward or back, so long as he kept going.
But that didn't stop the muffled sniffles that broke into a crescendo of half, muffled wails that bubbled up in his throat.
It wasn't dead. He had forgotten to check the Crier what with his little spat with Vye.
"Vye." Zeal grit his teeth, cursing to himself.
Vye was going through a sensitive Time, but such was Life, and he would have to learn. Life was cruel, and unfair. Death, grieving, mourning--all were luxuries none could afford when contending with Life. "Get rid of these vines. Now."
But Vye was nowhere to be seen.
"Vye!"
Oh forget it.
With a flash the vines were gone, his scythe once more nestled in his hands.
A giant coil slammed into the snow and there was a thunderous rumble.
The snow slid.
And the serpent turned its furious gaze upon him.
It howled and dove at him and he braced himself, hastily climbing to his feet, too late to dodge--and readying himself for the anticipated jarring impact of its charge.
But the blow didn't come.
The frost serpent cried out, rearing out of its charge.
Zeal stared as vines digging into the cut he had opened earlier. The crier whirled around at the small Shol kneeling beside the open wound, hands on the vines that had distracted it.
A thick tail slammed down on top of the segment, and Zeal grimaced, his body screaming as he ran, the last of his thermal magic quite literally burning out, and Vye clutched under his arm.
"You idiot." he grit out, "Get out of here!"
A deep howl and the ground behind them was once more trembling as the frostbeast came tunneling after them.
The two burst through the treeline, and an open ravine stretched under them.
Zeal jerked to a stop, feet dipping over the ledge.
He locked eyes with that of his young charge.
So young. So worn. So haunted.
Heh.
Steeling himself, he gave his young charge a stiff grin, gritting through the beating his body had taken, "How well can Shols fly?"
Vye scrabbled at him frantically, but before the Shol could answer, he chuckled, "It was just a jest."
Putting as much as he had left in his half frozen body, the Seeker spun in a full swing, and hurled Vye as hard as he could, flinging the small form to the side and far into the distance.
He landed with a distinct plop and Zeal breathed a sigh of relief that it was snow and not rock.
Lucky throw.
His shaky arm fell to rest at his side. His aim had been true, he hadn't missed.
That was the last thing he remembered before the treeline burst with an avalanche of snow. The surreal, timeless moment of complete and utter relief. Before he turned to the the Crier a gave it a spiteful look, grinning, "Not today."
And leapt back.
...
So that happened.
Zeal groaned. Was Vye safe? Had the crier found him? Or had he distracted the beast? Obviously not well enough or it would've gone after him.
"Zeal!" Small hands were tugging at him, jostling his wound, and he grunted in pain.
"No, Zeal! Don't go, don't go, don't go! Wake up, you have to wake up! I don't want to be alone again--!" an all too familiar weight pressed against his midsection.
He peeked an eye open to stare up at a blurry face.
"Stop that." he grumbled, "I'm tired."
Idly he noted the feeling of something coiling around him. Vines. These better not be thorned he thought, grimacing.
They weren't.
He was hoisted into the air, and after what felt like hours, felt snow beneath him. Had he fallen that far? The ravine had been deep.
The Shol dragged him into the cover of the trees, the thickets were better than open grounds at the very least.
"What happened to the crier?"
"It--it left suddenly. But Zeal, you're hurt--and cold! The wound, your fall--have to get you warmed up, fast."
Huh. How odd.
Zeal cracked an eye open and laughed to himself, drawing Vye's attention away from the pathetic fire pile he was trying to make. It almost made him chuckle.
"So what now? Are you going to try and kill me?" Zeal snorted.
"No--you'll undo those vines and kill me before I can even try, and--"
Ah. So he knew.
"... and--I'm not strong enough on my own. I need you." Vye sat, legs fanned on either side of him and hands wounding into his pant sleeves, unable to find any other purchase.
Though it hadn't been out of frustration as Zeal had first believed, but fear, "I... I don't want to be... left alone again."
Vye glared at the ground, "I need y-your help."
Zeal grinned through the pain, "Atta boy."
"I hate you." Vye sniffled, the vines finally slithering off of Zeal. "I hate you!"
Zeal rubbed at his wrists, "I know."
He drew the Shol to him and Vye clung to him, hugging him hard and obliviously making him tense as the small arms tightened painfully around the frostbite. The Shol didn't seem to notice, blurry eyes glaring up at him, even as he returned the gesture, "You're mean. You don't play fair."
"I know."
They stayed there for a moment, Vye out of relief, and Zeal much too tired from his wounds to be bothered with most anything.
"Well isn't this sweet." a merry voice called to them.
It was just one thing after another today it seemed.
An icy blue figure garbed in nothing but a heavy brown shawl clapped for them, seemingly perfectly at home in the arctic cold and glacial freeze.
As they stepped closer, Zeal realized it wasn't hair, but spindly garlands of needles that decorated them.
"You're a Shol."
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