“Do you even sleep?” Kael asked, his voice groggy.

  “Not when a storm's coming,” Gethru replied without turning. “Something stirs. Too quiet.”

  Kael’s heart tightened at the mention of his rescue. He had survived the dragon’s attack, but he was far from safe. The memory of roaring flames and blackened wings flashed through his mind—the beast that had destroyed his village and scattered his people to the wilds.

  “We’ll need strength,” Gethru continued, finally stepping back toward the fire. He sliced a portion of the roasted meat with a jagged bone knife and handed it to Kael. “Eat. Much ground to cover.”

  Kael hesitated. “Where are we going?”

  “South,” Gethru answered gruffly. “Farther from ice, closer to life. We find shelter.”

  Kael took a bite of the roasted meat. Its smoky flavor filled his mouth, and for the first time in days, the ache of hunger pains began to fade. Yet some unease remained in his chest. “I need to find my people. My father—he’ll be searching for me.”

  Gethru’s dark eyes softened slightly. “Survive first. Then find what’s lost.”

  The words stung, but Kael knew the truth in them. He nodded, swallowing both the food and his pride. “Then we’ll go south.”

  They broke camp quickly, packing what little they had. Gethru’s movements were swift and practiced, as though he had spent a lifetime traveling through harsh climates. Kael did his best to keep up, but his fingers fumbled with the leather straps that bound the furs to his back.

  “Hold,” Gethru said suddenly, raising one massive hand.

  Kael froze. The wilderness around them had grown eerily silent—no birds, no wind, only the distant creak of ice shifting beneath the earth. Then, from somewhere beyond the snow-covered hills, came a faint rumble.

  “What was that?” Kael asked, gripping the small weathered dagger at his side.

  “Trouble,” Gethru muttered. His keen gaze swept the horizon until it landed on a dark figure cresting the nearest ridge.

  Kael squinted. It was humanoid, but its gait was jerky, unnatural. As it drew closer, the sunlight glinted off its skeletal

  frame—bones held together by sinew and ancient magic. Its hollow eyes burned with a sickly green light.

  “Dragon’s thralls,” Gethru spat. He swung his massive hunting axe from his back with practiced ease. “Sent to finish us.”

  Kael’s heart pounded as more figures appeared behind the first, shambling toward them in a loose formation. “How many?”

  “Enough.” Gethru cracked his knuckles. “Stay close.”

  Kael nodded, though fear twisted his insides. He tightened his grip on the dagger and prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

  The thralls quickened their pace, their bony feet crunching across the frozen ground. And as the sun disappeared behind storm clouds, the battle for Kael’s survival began.

  Kael’s breath misted in the cold air, his hands trembling around the hilt of his dagger. The thralls drew closer, their eyes aglow with a dark necrotic energy. Though they moved awkwardly, their speed was unnerving—jerking forward, then steadily, in sudden bursts that left deep gouges in the snow, causing a white mist to swirl around their forms.

  “Behind me,” Gethru growled, hefting his axe with both hands. His posture was that of a seasoned warrior, feet braced wide and muscles coiled for action. Kael could feel the tension radiating from him, but there was no fear—only grim determination.

  The lead thrall let out a low, guttural hiss that reverberated in their ears before launching itself through the air. Its skeletal fingers stretched toward Gethru’s throat, pale and rotten it was a sight to behold.

  With a bellow that echoed across the icy plains, Gethru swung his axe in a deadly arc. The blade crashed into the thrall’s ribcage, splintering bone and sending the creature flying backward. It hit the ground hard, its shattered remains twitching before falling still.

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  Two more thralls followed, their brittle bones clattering as they closed the distance. Kael could barely follow Gethru’s movements as he dispatched them with brutal efficiency. One skull was cleaved in two; the other was crushed beneath Gethru’s heavy boot.

  Kael’s heart raced, but he felt a flicker of hope. Gethru was unstoppable.

  Then came a piercing, inhuman wail.

  Kael turned toward the sound just in time to see a new thrall emerge from the snow. Unlike the others, this one was draped in tattered robes that trailed behind it like shadows. Strange runes, glowing with dark magic, covered its bones. Its bony hand clutched a twisted staff.

  “Gethru—behind you!” Kael shouted.

  The robed thrall raised its staff, and a bolt of dark energy shot forth. Gethru spun just in time, raising his impressive axe to block the attack. The force of the impact sent him skidding back, his boots carving deep trenches into the snow.

  Kael’s pulse thundered in his ears. He had to do something. He couldn’t let Gethru face this alone.

  Gripping his dagger tightly, Kael charged forward. The ground felt unsteady beneath his feet, but he forced himself onward. The thrall’s burning gaze locked onto him as he closed the distance.

  Kael lunged, aiming for the creature’s exposed spine. His blade bit deep, the ancient bones cracking under the force of his strike, crumpling temporarily.

  The thrall shrieked, twisting violently as Kael clung to its back. It swung its staff in a wide desperate arc, but Kael ducked just in time. His instincts took over, and he drove the dagger deeper, twisting until the runes on the creature’s bones began to fade.

  With a final, ear-splitting cry, the thrall collapsed into a heap of lifeless bone.

  Kael stumbled back, panting. His arms ached, and his hands were numb from the cold and exertion. But he was alive.

  “Well struck,” Gethru said, striding over. There was a glint of approval in his eyes as he helped Kael to his feet. “More than expected.”

  Kael shook his head. “No… I’ve never fought like this before. I just—reacted.”

  “Survival sharpens instinct.” Gethru clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. “Hold fast.”

  Kael looked down at the thrall’s remains. Though he had defeated it, a chill lingered in the air—a sense that this battle was only the beginning.

  “Come,” Gethru said, turning toward the south. “Torndale waits..”

  Kael followed, his steps heavier with the weight of what he had just faced. Yet somewhere deep inside, a spark of courage had ignited. The journey was far from over, but Kael was determined to see it through.

  The path narrowed as they climbed higher, winding through jagged cliffs that loomed like silent sentinels. Kael could feel the growing tension in the air, each gust of wind carrying with it a faint but unmistakable sense of dread. The snow had begun to fall again, the flakes swirling around them in an unrelenting dance.

  “Stay close” Gethru warned, glancing over his shoulder. “cliffs hide more than snow.”

  Kael’s grip on his makeshift walking stick tightened. He scanned the rocky terrain for any signs of movement, but the storm had swallowed the world beyond a few feet. The only sound was the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the occasional howl of the wind.

  Suddenly, a faint noise broke the stillness—a distant, high-pitched whistle that echoed off the cliffs. Kael froze, his breath caught in his throat.

  “What was that?”

  “Wind,” Gethru replied, though his tone lacked confidence. He shifted his weight slightly, his hand resting on the hilt of the great axe strapped to his back. “Or something that rides it.”

  Before Kael could respond, the whistling came again—closer this time. It was joined by another, then another, until the air was filled with an eerie chorus of shrill, haunting cries.

  A shadow moved in the storm. Then another.

  “Thralls,” Gethru growled, unsheathing his axe. “Followed us.”

  The first of the creatures slowly emerged from the swirling snow—a twisted, skeletal figure draped in tattered brown rags. Its eyes glowed with a deep unnatural light, and its bony fingers clutched a curved rusted sword. More followed, their forms barely human, moving steadily with a jerky, unnatural gait.

  Kael’s heart thundered in his chest, but he forced himself to stand tall. He would not run. Not again.

  “Left!” Gethru barked, already charging toward the nearest thrall. His axe swung in a wide arc, cleaving the creature in two before it could raise its blade.

  Kael darted to the left, his training taking over. The thrall lunged at him, its rusted weapon slicing through the air. Kael ducked and drove the tip of his walking stick into its ribcage. The creature staggered but did not fall.

  Think, Kael. You’re not strong enough to overpower it. You must use speed. Precision. Techniques that you're father taught you.

  The thrall lunged again. Kael sidestepped, his mind racing. His eyes locked onto the blue glowing runes etched across the creature’s decayed flesh. Something told him those runes were the key to destroying it.

  He pivoted, thrusting the stick into the center of the largest rune. A flash of light erupted from the thrall’s body, and it collapsed into a pile of dust.

  “Kael!” Gethru’s shout brought him back to the present. The barbarian had felled three more thralls, but the storm churned with the promise of many more to come.

  “ Move!” Gethru roared.

  Kael nodded, his chest heaving. Together, they sprinted through the snow, the cliffs echoing with the sounds of pursuit.