Page 15

Shadows of Frostspire

brIAR

T he bundle of dried herbs crackles in my hands as I weave them into a protective charm. Each twist of the stems feels instinctive now, as if the magic coursing through the room is guiding my fingers.

Giselle watches nearby, an approving smile gracing her features as she nods with satisfaction once I tie off the last knot.

"Your instincts are good," she says, her voice warm and encouraging as she adds the charm to a growing pile on the table. "The magic responds naturally to your touch."

"I never thought I'd be doing this," I admit. "A few weeks ago, I didn't even believe in magic."

Alistair appears in the doorway, his arms full of fresh herbs from the greenhouse. "And now you're weaving protection spells like you were born to it." He sets his burden on the table. "The castle chose well when it called you here."

A warm pulse of energy ripples through the room, as if the castle itself is agreeing.

I look around the room as we work together to fill sashes with herbs, cords, and half-finished charms gathered to fortify Frostspire Keep against the impending threat. The atmosphere is charged with purpose, each item we handle imbued with our collective drive to end the curse.

Ronan made the call to Rurik. His words echo in my mind… He’s coming, and we need to prepare .

This fight is no longer an abstract concern; it’s a vivid looming challenge demanding my full attention.

Reaching for another bundle, I let my fingers trace the rough stems—mint, thyme, and lavender this time. The familiar scents fill the air, mingling with the deeper, more ancient aroma of the castle's magic, growing stronger by the hour. It envelops me, a comforting presence, urging me onward. I can almost feel Ember’s energy interwoven with the herbs, an ancient pulse guiding my actions and decisions.

Giselle stands at my side, deftly arranging the charms we’ve created together. "Remember, Briar," she continues, her focus unwavering as she leads me in this intricate dance of magic and intention. "Each charm carries a part of your essence. It’s not just about the ingredients. It’s the heart you put into it that determines its power."

"How'd you learn so much?" I ask, genuinely curious as I watch Giselle expertly tie the last charm.

Giselle pauses, her hands steadying as she looks over at me with a glimmer in her eye. "It wasn’t easy. When the curse first took hold of Frostspire Keep, the magic here was unstable. I spent years learning from the remnants of what once was, piecing together knowledge from ancient tomes and the whispers of the castle itself. I had to adapt quickly, or risk losing everything."

Her words resonate within me, igniting a flicker of curiosity. The way she describes her journey mirrors my own experiences, yet it feels like a distant echo—a past I wish to understand more deeply.

"What was it like?" I ask, drawn into her story. "Living here as the magic faded? Did you ever lose hope?"

Giselle smiles softly, her gaze drifting as if she's seeing the echoes of her memories. "At times, yes. But I always felt an underlying energy, a bond with the castle that kept me going. It was as if Frostspire itself was calling for help, urging me to keep trying, to fight back against the darkness. The energy pulsed in the walls, even when it dimmed. I learned to listen—to feel the rhythm of the castle's heart, and that gave me strength."

As I absorb her words, another thought flickers in my mind—a conversation I had with Ember in the library. The memory rushes back to me, vivid and clear, and I can’t help but share it.

"I spoke with Ember once," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, as if voicing this truth out loud makes it more real. "In the library, when I was investigating the magic and history of the Keep. It felt surreal… almost like she was guiding me."

Giselle leans closer, intrigued. "What did she tell you?"

I take a breath, grounding myself in the memory. “She revealed that I’m not fully human. I… I’m a hybrid. An arcanist. It’s strange to say it out loud, but it feels true.” The revelation hangs in the air, heavy with implications.

Giselle's eyes widen, then soften with understanding. "That makes sense. Arcanists possess a unique connection to the fabric of magic that flows through our worlds. Your lineage might be why you feel the castle's presence more than others."

"I felt this surge of energy when I learned it," I explain. "A part of me clicked into place. The magic here, the history—it all resonates with who I am. But I can’t help but wonder how it all intertwines with my search for my birth mother. If I’m an arcanist, does that mean she was too? Could understanding my powers help me uncover more about her?"

Giselle nods thoughtfully, her expression both encouraging and contemplative. "If you dig deeper into your abilities, you may just find the answers you seek. But remember, knowledge isn't just about the facts. It's also about understanding who you are within that knowledge."

I lean forward, intrigued. "What about you? Are you an arcanist too?"

She shakes her head with a gentle smile. "No, human. But I've learned a lot over the years to keep this place thriving."

"And once the curse is gone?" I ask, a hint of hope threading through my voice.

A soft smile touches her lips, but a shadow of longing lingers in her gaze. "I'll get to go home. Hopefully, my husband and other children haven't moved on without us."

I reach over, placing a hand over hers—a small gesture of solidarity. "It will work out."

"I hope so," she replies, her voice steady yet filled with emotion.

I nod, returning to my task, but her words resonate within me, echoing deep thoughts I’ve been wrestling with. There’s more mystery than concrete facts surrounding us. We’re all holding on to the hope that this curse will lift before Frostspire Keep dies, taking everyone with it.

And then there's the realization that my magical journey is just beginning. The path ahead is still shrouded in mystery despite the groundwork we've laid. Though I’ve begun to understand the basics of magic, I can feel there’s far more waiting to be revealed.

A deeper mystery lingers, just outside of reach. I can almost sense Ember's presence, guiding me toward this knowledge, urging me to trust in the magic that flows within and around me.

I plan to dive into learning more with Ember's help after this all is over. Because I don’t fully grasp what being an arcanist means or how it connects to the whirlwind of emotions tearing through me.

What does it mean to belong to this lineage? What power does it hold?

As I ponder these questions, I can’t shake the feeling that every revelation is tied to my search for my birth mother. With each layer of magic peeled back, I wonder if the connections will lead me closer to her.

I’m certain that in time, I will know more—more about myself, about the Nexus, and about the intricate web of magic that binds us all. It's a journey I’m ready to embark on, but first thing's first.

Rurik's arrival.

I watch as the herbs come alive in my hands, their colors sharpening, the scents bursting forth more vividly. There's a sense of urgency in our work, each charm a shield against the darkness that Rurik brings. I can’t ignore the flicker of fear that accompanies that awareness, but I force it down, channeling it into my hands instead.

"We'll need more than charms," I say, reaching for the fresh herbs. "Rurik won't be stopped by sage and string."

"No," Alistair agrees. "But every layer of protection helps." He picks up one of my finished charms, examining it closely. "These will strengthen the castle's natural defenses. Combined with your magic and Ronan's..."

He trails off, but I understand. Everything we do now is preparation for what's coming. The air thrums with anticipation, like the moment before lightning strikes.

I work faster, letting instinct guide my hands. Each charm feels stronger than the last, infused with my determination to protect this place—to protect everyone I've come to care about.

"The west tower still needs attention," Giselle says, gathering up an armful of completed charms. "I'll start hanging these while you finish the rest."

I nod, already reaching for more herbs. The afternoon light slants through the windows, painting everything in shades of amber and gold. Time is slipping away too quickly.

As I begin another charm, I can’t help but glance toward the tall windows, where the fading light washes the castle in hues of deep gold and crimson. Each minute passes, building toward the inevitable night, where every charm hung will serve as our first line of defense. The air buzzes with the excitement of magic being woven into the very fabric of Frostspire Keep.

The energy is palpable as I feel the pulse of Ember surrounding me, guiding my every weave and knot as I work beside Giselle and Alistair. It’s not just the herbs we’re preparing; it’s the very essence of the castle, and by extension, the lives that dwell within its walls. I let the knowledge settle over me like a warmth, letting it sustain me as I push through the urgency of our preparations.

A shadow passes the window—one of the wolves on patrol. Their presence is constant now, circling the castle grounds in an endless vigil. I catch glimpses of them between tasks: dark shapes moving through the snow, alert and watchful. Their silent strength offers a comforting reminder that we’re not alone in this fight.

Looking out at the snowy expanse, I realize how the Christmas season feels almost forgotten amidst the chaos of our preparations. The twinkling lights hanging along the eaves of Frostspire Keep shimmer like stars against the darkening sky, a stark contrast to the weight of the curse that looms over us.

But our lives have become entwined with the spirit of the season, providing some relief from the oppressive energy that holds us captive.

Once we emerge from this darkness, I swear I will celebrate Christmas with more vigor—after all, it was this season that brought me to Ronan.

The warmth of those memories stirs something deep within me, reminding me that love can bloom even in the coldest of winters. That’s something I’ll never forget.

Each flicker of light and the promise of joy give me hope, that this will be over soon.

The next charm comes together almost on its own, my fingers working while my mind drifts to Ronan. He's been coordinating with the pack all day, strengthening our outer defenses. Every time I sense him nearby, the castle's magic pulses stronger.

"Miss Everly." Alistair's voice pulls me back to the present. "Perhaps you should take a break. Check the grounds, ensure the charms are properly placed."

There's something in his tone that makes me look up. His expression is carefully neutral, but I catch a flicker of... something. Understanding? Concern?

"You're right," I say, setting aside my work. "Fresh air would help."

The corridors feel different as I make my way through the castle. Warmer, somehow. More alive. Magic shimmers in the corners of my vision, like dust motes caught in sunlight.

Outside, the late afternoon air is crisp and clean. My boots crunch in the snow as I follow the path around the castle'sperimeter. The charms we've already hung flutter in the breeze, each one a small beacon of protective energy.

A low whine draws my attention. Rakan emerges from the treeline, his black fur stark against the snow. In wolf form, he's massive—all muscle and grace.

"Everything quiet?" I ask.

He pads closer, bumping his head against my hand in greeting. His fur is surprisingly soft under my fingers.

"I'll take that as a yes." I scratch behind his ears, earning another whine of contentment. "Though I doubt it will stay that way for long."

Rakan pulls back, fixing me with a knowing look. He's been Ronan's most loyal defender through all of this. Now that loyalty extends to me, something I never expected but deeply appreciate.

"We'll be ready," I tell him. "Whatever comes."

He huffs what sounds suspiciously like agreement, then turns his head sharply toward the castle. A moment later, I feel it too—a surge of magic, stronger than before.

Ronan.

"Go," I say. "Keep watching."

Rakan touches his nose to my hand once more, then melts back into the shadows of the forest. I watch him go, grateful for his silent support.

The pull of magic leads me back inside, up staircases and through corridors that seem to arrange themselves to guide my path. I find Ronan in the library, standing at one of the tall windows. The setting sun catches his profile, turning his eyes to molten silver.

He turns as I enter, and something in his expression makes my heart skip. "Briar."

"I felt you," I say, moving closer.

"It's getting stronger." He reaches for me, his hand warm against my cheek. "Because of you."

"Because of us," I correct him.

His thumb traces my cheekbone, sending shivers down my spine. "I fought it for so long. Tried to keep you at a distance, thinking I was protecting you."

"And now?"

"Now I know better." His voice drops lower, rougher. "I can't fight this anymore. Don't want to."

I lean into his touch, letting my own magic rise to meet his. The air around us crackles with energy. "Then don't."