The storm hit just before dawn.

  It didn’t howl so much as arrive—thick, smothering snow descending in waves, erasing the world beyond a few meters. The wind rose in stuttering pulses, bending the trees and sending frozen needles rattling down onto the stone shelter like thrown gravel. It felt less like weather and more like siege.

  Kaavi stood at the mouth of the shelter, motionless, wrapped in his cloak. Snow clung to his beard and the folds of his sleeves. He hadn’t slept. Not really. His eyes tracked the trees, not the sky, and when the wind shifted, he tilted his head as if listening for something behind the storm.

  Behind him, Viktor stirred.

  He sat up slowly, groggy, brushing sleep from his eyes. The fire had gone out, just a faint glow left in the ashes. Gavril snored quietly in the far corner, wrapped in his own cloak like a mound of old laundry.

  "You stayed up the whole night?" Viktor asked.

  Kaavi didn’t turn. "Didn’t feel right to sleep."

  Viktor moved to the entrance, careful not to make too much noise. When he stepped beside Kaavi, the cold slapped his cheeks hard enough to bring tears to his eyes.

  Everything outside was white. Snow poured down in curtains, thick as wool. The trees looked like blurred sketches; the path utterly vanished.

  "We can’t move in this," Viktor murmured.

  Kaavi nodded. "Not yet."

  Viktor stared at the trees. "Do you think it’s following us?"

  Kaavi didn’t answer at first.

  Then, softly, "No. I think it’s ahead."

  By midmorning, Gavril had woken and immediately complained about the cold, the cramped shelter, and the sorry state of his boots. But once he’d eaten a strip of smoked meat and warmed his hands near a rekindled fire, his mood sharpened.

  He crouched beside Kaavi and Viktor, studying the treeline.

  "There’s a fork ahead. Just past the slope. Two paths—one goes around the ridge, safer but slower. The other’s the old hunting trail. Risky, but it’ll save us hours."

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  Kaavi looked to Viktor. "We move when it thins. Gavril leads. You stay between us. No one strays."

  Viktor nodded. He didn’t need convincing. The idea of being alone in that storm turned his stomach.

  They waited another hour before Kaavi gave the signal.

  The storm had eased slightly—not gone, but weakened. The snowfall turned finer; the wind less punishing. They packed quickly, stomped out the fire, and stepped into the white blur.

  Progress was slow.

  Gavril led with confident steps, cutting through the fresh snow, checking every dip in the terrain. The path had half-disappeared beneath drifts, but his eyes knew what to look for—stone outcroppings, broken bark, patterns in the way the wind carved the trees.

  Kaavi moved silently at the rear, eyes sweeping side to side. He paused often to listen. Not just for enemies, but for the unnatural. Soundless gaps. Animals gone quiet. Echoes that didn’t bounce back.

  By midday, they reached the slope Gavril had warned about. It wasn’t steep, but the path narrowed sharply along a frozen streambed.

  Viktor hesitated.

  Below the trail, the land dropped into a shallow ravine choked with thorny brush and broken trees. A slip here would mean injury—or worse.

  "Watch your footing," Gavril said, gripping a crooked pine root for balance.

  Viktor followed carefully, Kaavi behind him.

  Halfway across, the wind surged again. A flurry rose around them like smoke, and for one terrifying moment, Viktor lost sight of Gavril completely.

  Then—crack.

  The ice under Viktor’s foot shifted.

  He froze.

  "Don’t move," Kaavi said instantly.

  Viktor didn’t.

  Kaavi stepped closer, slow and measured, placing each foot with precision.

  "Distribute your weight. Step back, toward the rock. Gently."

  Viktor’s breath fogged in front of him. His muscles screamed with the effort of stillness. Slowly, he moved. One step. Another.

  Then Kaavi’s hand gripped his arm and pulled.

  They stumbled together onto firmer ground.

  The ice behind them cracked again—then caved inward with a muffled crash. Snow poured in, covering the dark hole it left behind.

  They stood in silence, heartbeats loud in their ears.

  Gavril cursed from ahead. "You alright back there?"

  "We’re fine," Kaavi called. "Keep moving."

  By late afternoon, the storm had dulled to a steady snowfall, but a strange hush settled over the world. The trees grew taller, older. The wind seemed to hold its breath.

  Gavril slowed at a wide bend in the trail.

  "We’re close. Half an hour, maybe less. The manor sits on that ridge. There’s a gatehouse, it’s usually unmanned."

  Kaavi stepped beside him. His eyes narrowed. "Something’s wrong."

  Gavril nodded grimly. "I was just about to say the same. No smoke. No light."

  The air tasted different now—stale, dry, like ash carried on cold wind.

  Viktor felt it too. His skin prickled. He reached for the small knife tucked into his belt.

  Kaavi placed a hand on his shoulder. "Stay sharp. We approach quiet."

  They moved off the trail, climbing through brush and uneven ground, sticking to the trees. As they crested the final rise, the manor came into view.

  Or what remained of it.

  The outer walls were intact, but blackened. Smoke stains crawled up from shuttered windows. The main gate had been left open—one door hanging from its hinges, the other buried in snow. There were no guards. No horses. No sound.

  Gavril swore. "It’s too quiet."

  Kaavi motioned them into a crouch behind a fallen log. He studied the ruins.

  "We go in slow. We search. Let’s find out what happened here."

  Viktor swallowed. His mouth had gone dry.

  They waited a moment longer. Then, one by one, they descended into the stillness.

  Monday, so stay tuned for more!