Zyryxa saw Nix Tezyk from miles away. The land between was barren—no crystalline trees, no tundra flowers, no viridix. No life. It was a dead place ruled by creatures that sought to bring even more death. Most of all, Nix Tezyk was a raging tempest of ice. An unnatural blizzard roared across the tundra, moving like a wall rising from the ground rather than a storm descending from the sky. Beyond her past sightings of the everlasting blizzard, she’d never seen anything like it. From this distance, a sunny sky hovered above the blizzard, yet no light pierced the dense hurricane of snow.

  The only thing keeping Zyryxa from sharing Lexyn’s open-mouthed wonder were the white wyverns gliding within the storm. Her hand hesitated on the handle of her greataxe as she clenched her jaw shut. Natazia stared into the storm, her face dispassionate—one of its two possible states since Hatrox had descended on them days ago. Zyryxa inhaled the frigid air, hoping to cleanse her resentment. Instead, it seemed trapped within her, unable to escape.

  Everything she did seemed to upset Natazia now. If Zyryxa thrived in battle, Natazia snapped at her and grew bitterly cold. When Zyryxa made even the rarest mistake—or even when she was flawless—Natazia fixated on it, roaring about how she needed to do better. Should Zyryxa offer a suggestion, Natazia shut it down and did the opposite, no matter how stupid. Zyryxa was sick of her drakeshit, a vindictive part of her wanting to be the one to slay the qione just to prove she was better.

  Instead of calling out the wyverns circling within the blizzard’s rim, Zyryxa let Natazia lead them into an ambush. Better that than further fracturing the brood with her competence.

  She glared at Natazia’s back. Ever since Hatrox, she’d been a fragment of the woman Zyryxa had respected. Gone was Natazia’s warmth. No laughter, no smiles—only bitter commands. No matter how soft Zyryxa tried to be, anytime she spoke, it was like touching a wound on a feral beast. She hoped it would get better, that patience would help Natazia shake off Hatrox’s influence. But each day, the rift seemed to grow. Whether Zyryxa, Pelzyq, or Lexyn tried to share their warmth, Natazia offered only cold.

  Rather than keeping her eyes forward, Natazia watched the skies—except, of course, when wyverns flew overhead. In battle, she made beginner’s mistakes that even Lexyn had grown beyond. Her stockpile of spears thinned daily from bad thrusts or throws. Two days ago, she allowed a sabretooth to pounce on her, needing Lexyn to rescue her. Yesterday, Pelzyq stopped her from walking blindly into a crater. Both times, she shoved them aside, berating them for not staying in line.

  Zyryxa’s knuckles whitened as she squeezed her axe handle. What drove her maddest was that they couldn’t even talk about Hatrox without Natazia shutting them down. They had to tiptoe around her, like they were in the middle of Lazael and the ice beneath them was cracking. If they could just expose the damage he’d done, they could start to mend it. Instead, Natazia seemed determined to prove the monster right.

  “Keep moving,” Natazia snapped as Zyryxa fell behind.

  Zyryxa wanted to crack Natazia’s skull open and force her to think straight. Hatrox hadn’t laid a finger on them, yet he’d damaged the brood. Possibly beyond repair. Zyryxa wondered if it would be better to abandon her for Riverwatch.

  No. She didn’t want to endure whatever had broken Natazia. She certainly never wanted to be this insufferable. Then again, Zyryxa knew she’d never let herself become like Natazia. She was stronger, smarter, more resilient. Perhaps Hatrox’s brutality could push her to greater heights. He’d promised to make her into Ice’s Champion while Vaztyma would always try to restrain Zyryxa’s growth, perhaps even sabotage her attempt to bond Duilahir. No matter how harsh Hatrox was, at least he’d be competent. Zyryxa could lead the Riverwatch swarm as his second and use his power to slay Saevah. If she could protect herself from him, she could achieve everything she wanted.

  But compassion held her back. She tried to remember the Natazia who had laughed with her around the fire, sharing secrets, fears, and hopes. Friends, sisters, couldn’t give up on each other when it got hard. If Zyrthalla hadn’t given up on Abbaz after he threw her through a tarandrux’s skull, Zyryxa could weather this storm, face the cold, and pull her friend from this abyss. True weakness would be giving up now.

  Sighing, she tried her best. Zyryxa pointed up at the storm as they neared the blizzard’s edge. She tried to play dumb. No, it wasn’t easy. Yes, it strained her pride. But she remembered the verses of “The Warrior’s Pride,” determined not to let this be the end of them. “Some of those snowflakes are huge.”

  Natazia ignored her, but Lexyn and Pelzyq looked up.

  “Those aren’t snowflakes,” Lexyn said, wary. She met Zyryxa’s gaze, her eyes full of insight. “Those are wyverns.”

  Natazia’s focus sharpened like a spear dislodged from ice. Her eyes darted up to the wyverns, her familiar frown disgraced her face. “I was waiting for one of you to notice,” she said, her voice like a whip.

  Drakeshit, Zyryxa thought. She imagined hurling Natazia at the wyverns. It’d likely do more damage to the beasts than Natazia’s spears given the way she’d been fighting the past few days.

  “They’re small,” Pelzyq said. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

  “Lygian wyverns,” Natazia said. “Fast, fierce, with venomous fangs. The poison stings for days.” She smiled at Zyryxa.

  Zyryxa drew her axe. “Orders?”

  Natazia hesitated longer than she would’ve in the past. “Zyryxa will go in first and get their attention. Pelzyq and I will flank. Lexyn, aim for their wings so they can’t take flight.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Zyryxa’s glare said, I’m so happy to be poison bait. Her voice said, “I’ll try to save some for you.”

  She didn’t wait for Natazia’s reaction. With a kick, Zyrxl galloped into the ice. The blizzard wall hit like a plunge into freezing water. The only things colder she could recall were Praedax’s breath and being drenched in the blood of the white wyrm. Her breath misted in front of her as she struggled to make out shapes above. Lexyn’s arrows would be nearly useless in these conditions. Stupid fucking Natazia.

  The first white-winged beast swooped toward her. Zyryxa’s axe split its underside, carving from jaw to tail. She shifted Zyrxl to the left, dodging another wyvern’s talons. The third took an axe to the wing and crashed into the snow. Zyrxl trampled its spine, ending its struggle.

  Pain burst in her shoulder as something tore through her furs. The venom’s sting would come later, but Zyryxa seized the offending wyvern by its slender throat before it could clamp its teeth around her head. She squeezed, feeling divine wrath flow through her as if she were Qoryxa’s judge and executioner. The ice was hers and she felt no pain. Only a cold rage that demanded justice.

  The wyvern spat venom, but she twisted its neck away from her face. Another wyvern dove toward her, thinking to strike while she was distracted. Roaring, she wielded the wyvern in her grip like a hammer, smashing it into the skull of the ambusher, resulting in an explosion of bone and blood.

  Scanned the storm, Zyryxa spotted her broodmates behind her, their forms faint through the swirling snow, wyverns raining down on them. She kicked Zyrxl toward Lexyn, but the girl was already charging headfirst at one of the wyverns. She veered Dryxl aside at the last moment, her sword parting a wing. Lexyn launched from the saddle, spun through the air, and drove her blade through the creature’s skull. She glanced up, saw Zyryxa’s approach, and howled, “Help Natazia!”

  Zyryxa spun Zyrxl. She saw Pelzyq first, grappling a wyvern, using its skull as a snow shovel. Natazia had either fallen or leapt from Xilliax. She threw a spear at one wyvern, but the beast evaded with ease, spinning free of the attack like a particularly elegant corkscrew. Another wyvern lunged, and Natazia barely deflected the attack with her last spear before falling onto her back.

  Zyryxa cleaved one wyvern in two as it swooped toward Natazia. Sensing movement, she whipped a qoryxite handaxe through the air, lodging it into the other wyvern’s skull.

  She retrieved her weapons, cleaned the venomous blood off, fought off shivers, and tried to detect whether there were more wyverns lurking. Most of all, she braced for Natazia’s inevitable outburst.

  “Get their attention, I said!” Natazia shouted. “Half of them came after us! You ruined the entire plan!”

  Zyryxa rolled her eyes. “Some plan! Arrows with this visibility? I charged in, took out half of them by myself, Lexyn and Pelzyq handled themselves, and you needed saving. Again.”

  “I’m leader of this brood!”

  “Leader? You’re not even in command of yourself anymore.”

  “Enough!” Pelzyq roared. “We need to get warm before this divinedamned blizzard freezes us.”

  He was right. Zyryxa felt the cold penetrating her furs and seeping into her bones. Lexyn trembled, and Pelzyq wrapped an arm around her as their drakes huddled close.

  “No,” Natazia said. “We need to kill the cold’s source. A qione is near.”

  She searched the ground for her second spear. Zyryxa was too petty to tell her that she wasn’t even looking in the right direction. Let the bitch go barehanded if that was what it took to get her to cut the drakeshit.

  Pelzyq scoffed. “Lexyn will—”

  “Drink the potion and power through the cold,” Natazia interrupted. “All of you, drink.”

  Lexyn produced four vials from her pack and wasted no time drinking the first one herself. Pelzyq followed. “Not bad,” he said, wiping the tonic from his grizzled face. “Warms me up almost as well as the lovely lady who brewed it.”

  Lexyn nudged him with her elbow and offered another vial toward Zyryxa and Natazia, her eyes pleading for peace between them.

  “Go ahead,” Natazia snapped.

  Zyryxa flexed her fingers. She could manage the cold. “I don’t need it.”

  “Drink the fucking potion.”

  Zyryxa was ready to mount Zyrxl when she caught sight of Lexyn’s pleading eyes. She released the reins, stomped toward Lexyn, and drained the vial in one gulp. Pelzyq wasn’t wrong. The drink was sweeter than milk and lacked the sting of liquor. Instantly, her stomach warmed, then the heat spread through her driving away the cold. She felt comfortable even, like she could lie down in the blizzard and take a nap. Not that she was stupid enough to do so nor tired of anything except Natazia’s drakeshit.

  “Not bad,” she agreed, nodding at Lexyn.

  “Natazia,” Lexyn said, waving the fourth vial.

  “I don’t need it,” she snapped.

  Zyryxa wondered if it had sounded so bitchy when she said it. Lexyn opened her mouth to protest, but Zyryxa shook her head. “Let her be cold,” she mouthed.

  Lexyn frowned but she slid the vial back into her pack.

  “Not so cold anymore, eh?” Pelzyq said.

  Lexyn nodded, though she still folded her arms over her chest and huddled tight. Pelzyq draped his blanket around her shoulders then put his arm around her. “Let’s go kill this icy ghost.”

  Zyryxa could nod to that.

  “Quit the chatter,” Natazia howled. It stealth was her complaint, she was several magnitudes louder than they’d been.

  Zyryxa savored Natazia’s shivers, the chattering of her teeth. She tried to let go of this venom, but if flowed through her. Reminded, she glanced at her shoulder. A viscous green fluid bubbled, mingling with her blood. “How should we tend this?” she asked Lexyn, not bothering to be quiet.

  Lexyn spied the wound for the first time. Her mind worked quick, piecing together a treatment plan. “Mundex fluid to disinfect the wound and,” she glanced at Dryxl, “we can use a drake to suck out the poison.”

  Zyryxa laughed. “Dryxl is used to sucking up blood after a fight.”

  “Enough!” Natazia screamed. “Focus!”

  Her voice echoed through the storm, answered by the beating of great wings. Overhead, a dragon soared just above the raging snow of Nix Tezyk. Its roar trumpeted over the winds.

  Seizing her axe, Zyryxa tried to discern the dragon’s identity, particularly whether it belonged to ice or fire. Her eyes failed her, the image distorted by the blizzard. Still all became clear when the dragon projected its mind to her, sharing a single thought.

  Mother?