Chapter 67: The Frost Keep

They gathered at the checkpoint before dawn.

The East Gate was a modest facility on the outskirts of the city, where Vessels gathered before entering the rifts scattered across the surrounding wilderness. A few wagons were parked nearby. Equipment vendors had set up small stalls. Groups of Vessels stood in clusters, checking gear and discussing strategy.

Emeric arrived first.

He stood at the edge of the checkpoint, his cloak pulled tight against the morning chill. His daggers hung at his hips. The Ring of Regeneration sat on his finger. His Vessel License was tucked into his coat.

He had not been able to go see Bjorn after all. These would have to do.

He waited.

Collin arrived next. The older man walked with a steady gait, his shield strapped to his back. He nodded to Emeric as he approached.

"Early."

"Yep."

Collin grunted. "First party raid?"

"How did you know?"

"Your shoulders are too tight." He clapped Emeric on the back. "Relax. We’re not going into a death pit."

Maynard appeared a few minutes later. The younger man moved quietly, his eyes scanning the checkpoint with the practiced awareness of a scout. He gave Emeric a small nod but said nothing.

Mira arrived next. She carried a leather satchel filled with herbs and bandages. Her hair was pulled back in its usual bun. She looked calm. Professional.

And then Clarisse.

She emerged from the morning mist like something out of a dream. Dark hair falling in waves past her shoulders. Eyes that seemed to see more than they should. She wore practical travelling clothes, but somehow managed to make them look provocative. She smiled as she approached.

"Gentlemen. Mira."

"Clarisse," Collin said. "Ready?"

"I’m always ready."

She glanced at Emeric. Her smile widened.

"Mr. Halden. You look tense."

"I’m fine."

"Mm." She stepped closer. Close enough that her breasts brushed his arm with a wicked smile. "You’ll loosen up once we’re inside." She said with a small naughty laugh.

Emeric frowned as he watched her walk past him toward the checkpoint, while maintaining eye contact and staring at her bottom.

She did so as though guiding his eyes down there.

He groaned inwardly. He needed to get a ring or something that showed he was taken.

First it was Sera, now this.

Emeric watched her go.

Collin sighed. "She’s always like that. You get used to it."

---

The rift was a tear in reality.

It shimmered in the air before them—a vertical slash of pale grey energy, edges rippling like heat distortion. Beyond it, vague shapes and shifting colors hiding the glimpse of what lay beyond the doorway.

"Everyone ready?" Collin asked.

Nods all around.

"Let’s go."

One by one, they stepped through.

Emeric felt the familiar sensation—reality twisting, his stomach lurching, his vision going dark from walking through a dimensional. Then his boots hit solid ground.

He was inside.

---

The Frost Keep was beautiful in a dead way.

The trees were pale and thin, their branches bare and coated in frost. The ground was frozen earth and scattered stones, dusted with snow that crunched softly underfoot. The air was cold enough to bite, and their breath misted with every exhale. A pale, faint light filtered from above—not sunlight, not moonlight, just a constant, colorless glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

The group moved forward in formation.

Collin led at the front, his shield raised. Maynard flanked to the right, his eyes scanning the trees. Mira stayed close behind Collin, her satchel clutched in one hand. Clarisse hung back slightly, her movements quiet in a way that seasoned veterans would. Emeric positioned himself between Maynard and Clarisse, his daggers loose and ready.

Their footsteps crunched softly against the frozen ground.

"Stay alert," Collin said. "Frost Wolves hunt in packs. They’ll try to surround us if we’re not careful."

Emeric nodded. His Wind affinity stretched outward, sensing the subtle shifts in air pressure—the rustle of branches, the whisper of snow, the breath of something moving in the distance.

He felt them before he saw them.

"Contact. Left flank. Three—no, four."

Collin glanced back at him. "You can sense them?"

"Wind affinity."

"Useful." Collin raised his shield. "Everyone, formation. Maynard, flank left. Clarisse, cover our rear. Mira, stay close to me."

The Frost Wolves emerged from the treeline.

They were sleek, white-furred creatures with eyes like chips of ice. Their breath misted in the cold air. Their teeth were long and sharp. They circled the party, growling low in their throats.

"Four of them," Maynard said quietly. "Standard pack."

"Standard formation," Collin replied. "I’ll draw them in. Maynard, pick them off. Mr. Halden, support Maynard. Clarisse—"

"Already ahead of you."

Clarisse stepped forward. Her hands moved in a slow, deliberate pattern. A faint glow gathered at her fingertips—pale, almost invisible in the frost-light.

The wolves hesitated.

Their growls faltered. Their eyes, fixed on Clarisse, lost focus. One of them shook its head, as if trying to dislodge something.

"Now," Clarisse said.

Collin charged.

His shield caught the first wolf across the jaw, sending it sprawling. Maynard’s arrow found the second one’s eye before it could react. He tucked the bow and switched to a small sword he carried at his side. Emeric moved—Wind gathering around his daggers—and drove both blades into the third wolf’s throat.

The fourth one yelped and fled.

Maynard’s second arrow caught it before it reached the treeline.

And for a little bit, there was silence.

Collin lowered his shield. "Clean. Good."

Emeric wiped his daggers on the snow. The Ring of Regeneration was already working, closing a shallow cut on his forearm he hadn’t noticed.

"First blood," Mira said. She was already moving among them, checking for wounds. "Everyone intact?"

"Fine," Maynard said.

"Good," Emeric said.

Clarisse smiled at him. "You’re fast."

"I try."

She held his gaze a moment longer than necessary. Then she turned away.

They moved deeper into the hollow.

The encounters became routine. A pair of Frost Hares— creatures known to be fast and viscous little shits with razor-sharp teeth.

A single Ice Bear which was quite odd considering they hunted with an army. It was massive but slow. This did not diminish how dangerous it was.