They awoke in the middle of the night, packing enough supplies for five Volsung days. They didn’t expect to be gone more than two or three, but having a cushion in such weather was necessary. They filled their packs with smoked meat, potatoes, beets, frost fruit, various edible fungi, and seaweed bars. Besides this, they put on many layers of clothing—more than Lucian would have thought they needed. Each of them had a parka, inheritances from past exiles. They had some wear but were still in good condition.

  Even so, it was damned cold outside. But the older men had caches of food and supplies stashed around the island. If a sudden blizzard fell upon them, they would have the resources for a fire. Supposing they could get to a cache in time.

  “The test is on the northern side of the island, in a system of caves,” Linus explained.

  “How far away?”

  “Depends on how fast we can walk. One standard day, if we are quick about it and the weather isn’t bad.”

  “Are we ready?” Plato asked.

  Lucian gave one last review of the cave that had become his home. He was going out into the cold, merciless world. Truthfully, he wasn’t fully recovered from the Ordeal, and all he could think about was what Talent Hamil had said all those months ago about Volsung winter. It was a coldness that could freeze one’s blood.

  Even as they set out under an aurora-infused sky, Lucian couldn’t imagine staying out here an entire day. Whatever sunlight there was did little to warm them. Once they made it to the flatland above the cave, they trekked northeast, deeper inland, their snowshoes plodding on fresh drifts. Their tracks coursed through unspoiled snow across a world of silence. A few flakes drifted down lazily, though Lucian couldn’t see how. There was not a cloud in the sky.

  The going was easy over the flat snows, though the shoes grew heavy. Dawn broke in the west, tinging the sky a sickly gray. A few hours later saw them still walking, single file, following the tracks Linus set. Linus never broke stride, like a man half his age might. The first obstacle came from a line of high, icy hills bisecting the island east to west. The orange sun peeked above the landscape only enough to show half its face, casting the white-clad hills in hues of bronze and copper.

  The wind was low today, a bit of luck. But even the soft breeze sent chills down Lucian’s spine. Even if his body was warm, his gloves weren’t enough to keep out the cold. He longed for a fire to warm his extremities, but that wouldn’t come until tonight, long after the sun had set.

  They were halfway up the mountains when they broke for their first meal of kelp bars and smoked fish. Both had to melt in their mouths before it was even possible to chew. It made for unpleasant eating, but at least Linus allowed a small fire in a cleft of a rock, around which they huddled.

  Lucian saw a single column of smoke on the southern horizon. It looked to be rising from the direction of the village.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “What do we do?” Plato asked, watching.

  “Can’t they last a week longer?” Linus asked. It was clear from his expression that he didn’t want to change course.

  But Lucian had a vision of an exile there, cold, alone, and hungry. They might already be running low on supplies. And the snow would be even deeper in the valley.

  All Lucian could wonder was whether it was someone he knew. Someone like Emma.

  That thought alone was enough to make the decision.

  “We should go down there,” Lucian said. “See who it is and spend the night in the cabins.”

  “That would delay your test,” Plato said.

  Lucian thought about the problem. “With this weather, they might be dead in a week. We can at least check and direct them to one of the caches.”

  Linus chuckled. “You think your girl is over there?”

  “It could be anybody,” Lucian said. “We can delay the test.”

  The two older men thought about the problem for a few minutes. Long enough for Lucian to feel the cold seeping into his bones. He was ready to get moving.

  “We’ll let you decide, Lucian,” Linus finally said.

  The idea that it might be Emma, against all odds, decided it for him.

  “I want to go down there,” he said. “We can vet them for fraying. If they are, we can leave them behind. If they aren’t, we can take them to the cave to await our return.”

  “And if they try to follow us?” Linus asked.

  “Hard to do without snowshoes.”

  “He makes a good point,” Plato admitted.

  Linus thought for a moment, stroking his beard. “Well, if we are going down there, we had better do it now. There's about an hour of daylight left, and these icy hills can be treacherous.”

  Lucian tried not to think too much about who was down in the valley as he trekked across the snow in the direction of the smoke, though that was impossible. As small as the chance was, it could be Emma. That added urgency to his steps. By the time they crested the final rise that overlooked the cabins, the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, leaving a star-filled sky above them.

  They watched for about a minute. Only one of the cabins, the very one Lucian had used, had smoke rising from its chimney. Lucian went downslope, the two older men following him tentatively. As he suspected, the snowdrifts were higher, almost reaching the roofs of most of the cabins. Even with the snowshoes, he found himself sinking uncomfortably low in the snow. Lucian could see a path through the snow on the opposite end of the valley. That was where the exile had likely burned his way down. Someone skilled with Thermalism, then.

  Once about twenty meters from the cabin, Lucian stopped. He looked back at his companions, who stood waiting for the next move.

  “What now?” Lucian asked.

  “This was your idea,” Linus said. “First contact is on you.”

  Why did they think this was going to go so badly? Lucian supposed the exile might be frayed. But no Novice at the Academy had been like that, showing symptoms of rot in both mind and body. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe all this was a mistake. And after going through the Ordeal, Lucian couldn’t stream anymore—not unless he wanted to undo all his hard work.

  That meant he had nothing but his shockspear to defend himself with, and he couldn’t even use magic to break through an energy shield streamed by an enemy mage. He took the spear from his pocket and extended it. Thinking for a moment, he collapsed it. Having it out would only panic whoever was on the other side of that door.

  Linus and Plato were right to be cautious. Whoever was inside could be dangerous.

  Then again, it could be a friend. Even Emma. They had already come all this way. It was time to finish the job.

  He turned to the older men. “Stay here. Or not. I’m knocking.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Lucian walked to the door. Linus and Plato followed.