Eternal XIV

The interwoven ice crevices wound deep and twisted like the veins of a giant beast, crisscrossing beneath the glacier. Yet there was no pulse of blood within them, only pitch-black darkness and silence. Water dripped from icicles several feet long, occasionally making a tinkling sound that shattered the soundless desolation.

A sudden footstep intruded upon the tranquility that seemed like a dream. It stumbled and staggered, sounding as though it was being pursued—or pursuing something. It passed through one ice cavern after another, and then a young man appeared in view. His skin was dark, his clothes were tattered and stained with blood, but beneath his long, disheveled hair, his eyes shone with dazzling brilliance.

Yalta was panting heavily. Ever since entering the Frost-dyed Forest, the sword wound on his body had never healed, and his high fever refused to subside. The scenery around him alternated between clear and blurred. When his condition worsened, even the ice-blue pillars appeared doubled in his eyes. Yet somehow, he could always see that figure, sometimes far away and sometimes close.

It seemed to be a person, but he could see only its back. For two weeks, it had continued floating indistinctly ahead of him. As though urged on by some magic, he crossed the forest and the glacier, following behind it all the way here.

But Yalta's head was splitting with pain, and his mind was heavy and muddled. He could remember little, but he still remembered his father, his sister, and the hunter who had died outside the Frost-dyed Forest that day. At the time, he had curled up beneath the carriage, feeling the wounds across his chest and abdomen pour out blood as his body grew weaker and lighter, as though he were about to lose all awareness.

A voice entered