Daryanne I

The moon barely filtered through the dark clouds, leaving the forest shrouded in heavy gloom. Four people moved forward without speaking, but their quick glances to the sides betrayed their tension. It wasn’t common for smugglers like them to use those paths.

They were part of a group known as the Blue Daggers—discreet, but feared both on land and sea routes. Avoiding the main roads had always been their method, but this time they were carrying high-value cargo. Staying unnoticed was essential; otherwise, the consequences would go far beyond a simple reprimand.

“Anyone else feel like their feet don’t exist anymore?” muttered Eira, a short, square-faced woman with cropped hair, shaking one leg as if that could bring the blood back. “If this keeps up, someone’s going to have to carry me.”

Daryanne, the youngest of the group—a sharp-faced girl with dark hair tied in a high ponytail—let out a low laugh. She was dressed in tight brown leather clothes designed for silent movement, and her dark cloak fluttered with the cold wind that was beginning to blow.

“I’m not carrying you. I’ve got enough trouble dragging my own bones around.”

“Bones?” said Gavros — a middle-aged man with short black hair already flecked with gray and a prominent nose — without taking his eyes off the path. “You’re the youngest here. Wait until you’re my age, then you’ll know what real back pain feels like.”

“You always say that, but you’re still the first to jump up when there’s a fight,” Daryanne shot back with a half-smile. “Maybe you just pretend to be old so we’ll respect you.”

“Neither old nor respectable,” Eira snorted. “Just grumpy.”

Thoren, a tall, broad-shouldered young man with messy hair and thick fur clothing, had stayed silent until then. He murmured from behind them:

“I could carry you, if needed.”

The three of them looked at him. Eira raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking.

“Was that… an offer?” she asked with a teasing smile.

Thoren shrugged, not slowing his pace. “Only if you faint. I don’t want us falling behind.”

Daryanne laughed again. “Huh, he does have a sense of humor after all. I thought you were part of the forest.”

“I don’t talk much, but I listen,” Thoren said with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You lot make enough noise for everyone.”

Gavros shook his head in resignation. “If someone finds us, it’ll be because of your chatter, not our footprints.”

“But how boring would it be without us, right?” said Eira, nudging Daryanne with her elbow.

Daryanne nodded. “Someone once said: if you’re going to die, better not do it alone.”

Thoren snorted, almost a laugh. “I’d rather not die at all, honestly.”

“That would be ideal too,” Eira replied, pretending to think. “But it’s not in the contract.”

“We had a contract?” Daryanne murmured with a crooked smile.

“I signed in blood,” Gavros said flatly. “Other people’s blood, of course.”

The group laughed quietly, and for a moment, the weight of the forest seemed to lift.

“Damn,” muttered Daryanne, pulling up her hood to shield herself from the sudden, biting cold that was growing stronger. “This part of the kingdom wasn’t supposed to be this… freezing.”

Gavros didn’t answer; his eyes were fixed on the trail ahead. It was easy to get lost in those woods. Years of smuggling between kingdoms had taught him to trust his instincts, and right now, something felt terribly wrong.

“It’s not natural,” added Eira, rubbing her gloved hands together. “We’re too far from the north to feel this kind of cold. Something’s off…”

Thoren stayed silent, scanning the surroundings carefully. Though his face showed a calm that bordered on unsettling, his eyes were sharp, tracing the dark forest for any sign of movement.

“We should’ve taken another path,” Daryanne went on, frustration edging her tone. She glanced sideways at Gavros, hoping for a reply, but he didn’t seem inclined to speak.

Eira stopped for a moment too, looking toward the horizon with unease. “This cold… I don’t like it. It’s not normal.”

Daryanne nodded, her eyes forward but her mind drifting. She’d heard rumors of places where time and weather twisted strangely, as if nature itself were corrupted by something unnatural.

“We know,” said Gavros, his tone firm but tinged with unease. “But we can’t turn back now. Edgar already paid us in advance for the spice delivery — and the gods know he’s not someone you want to disappoint.”

The wind stopped. The sudden calm was more terrifying than any storm. Not a leaf stirred, not a sound broke the air. Only silence — the kind that foretells death.

Gavros raised a hand, halting the group. He tilted his head, listening. His hardened gaze narrowed, and slowly, he drew his sword — though he doubted steel would help against whatever was out there.

Then they heard it. A low, deep sound, as if the earth itself groaned under an impossible weight. It came from the trees beyond their sight — a muffled roar, like ice fracturing. The four smugglers exchanged quick, fearful looks, not daring to speak. Only one thing could make that sound, and it was something none of them believed could exist outside of fairy tales.

“It can’t be,” whispered Eira, her voice trembling. “It just can’t…”

The trees in the distance began to shake — not from the wind, but from something massive moving among them. Branches bent and snapped under its weight as a dark shape slid through the gloom. Gavros took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever was about to emerge from the forest’s darkness.

The creature stepped out, and its sheer size stole the breath from all four of them. At first, they only saw the enormous wings folded against its white-scaled body. Then, two pale blue eyes — like frozen orbs — lit up in the dark. It was colossal, far more terrifying in life than in any tavern tale ever told in Roystone. Its icy breath turned the ground and trees into a frozen landscape with every step it took toward the smugglers.

Daryanne instinctively stumbled back, reaching for the bow slung across her back.

“What… what is that?” she murmured, her voice trembling. “That’s not possible!”

“I know,” said Gavros through clenched teeth. “But that doesn’t matter right now. If that thing sees us as a threat, we’re dead. We can’t fight it.”

Thoren already had his axe in hand but didn’t move. His face was a mask of focus, though cold sweat trickled down his forehead.

“So what do we do?” Eira asked, her eyes locked on the monster. “Wait for it to leave?”

Before anyone could answer, the beast let out a roar that made the ground tremble beneath their feet. Its head rose toward the sky, and a freezing mist began to pour from its jaws. Within seconds, the air around them turned frigid, their clothes and armor frosting over.

“Run!” Gavros shouted, shoving Daryanne forward.

The four bolted into the forest, weaving between trees as the creature’s roar grew louder, echoing through the night. Each breath burned their lungs with cold, and their steps faltered as ice began to form beneath their feet.

Eira glanced over her shoulder. The thing was right behind them, moving with terrifying speed. Its claws tore the ground apart with every stride, splintering branches and trunks like paper. Despite its immense size, it was swift — and it was gaining on them.

“Head for that cave!” Gavros shouted. Maybe, if they reached it in time, they could hide — survive.

But the beast didn’t give them the chance.

With one final roar, it spread its massive wings and leapt into the sky, vanishing into the darkness for a heartbeat. The smugglers didn’t stop. But the inevitable came. From above, a torrent of ice crashed down upon them, freezing the ground, the trees — and the smugglers themselves. Gavros and Eira were frozen in an instant, turned into brittle statues that shattered when they hit the ground.

Thoren ran behind Daryanne, his eyes fixed on the cave ahead. It was so close. But the creature exhaled again, and this time, the frost hit him squarely. He froze mid-stride, mere steps from the entrance, his body locked in the last desperate push for safety.

Daryanne was the only one who made it into the cave. The cold crept through the entrance, but the natural shelter gave her just enough protection to escape her companions’ fate.

She stayed there, motionless, trembling, listening to the sounds of the beast tearing through the clearing. After what felt like an eternity, the thunderous beating of its wings faded into the distance. The thing had moved on.

When Daryanne finally dared to move, the forest outside was blanketed in glittering frost. The bodies of Gavros and Eira lay scattered across the ground. Thoren was near the cave’s entrance, frozen in a pose that spoke of his struggle to reach safety. Still gasping from fear, Daryanne knew she was the only one left alive — but also that she would never be the same after that night.

Not after coming face to face with an ice dragon.

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