The wind no longer bit.
By the time I crossed the last frozen ridge, the sun was rising behind me, casting long shadows across the cliffs. Snow crunched beneath my boots one final time before it gave way to rocky paths streaked with moss and thawing frost. The air had changed—less sharp, more earthy.
Behind me loomed the jagged peaks of the Blood Mountains.
Ahead, the world opened wide.
I took a deep breath and let it all settle in. The scent of pine. The wet soil beneath fresh melt. The quiet chirp of early birds. It was strange, in a way—this was still my kingdom, yet everything already felt unfamiliar.
I adjusted the satchel across my shoulder and tightened the straps of my cloak. Beside me, my horse—whom I'd decided to call Grey—snorted and stomped, clearly eager to stretch his legs. He'd grown restless with the slow descent, but I couldn't blame him. So had I.
"Alright," I muttered, patting his neck. "Let's see what the lowlands have to offer."
We started at a steady trot, navigating the winding path down through the ridges. The world below shifted from stone to soil, and trees grew taller, fuller. Pines gave way to deciduous forest, and the distant echo of birdsong grew louder with every mile. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't surrounded by silence and death.
It was almost peaceful.
Almost.
—
I made camp just before dusk, setting up near the base of a rock bluff overlooking a wide stream. Grey grazed nearby while I unpacked dried meat and set up a small fire using a flint striker I borrowed from the stable. I hadn't needed to fight anything yet, which both relieved and concerned me. The world didn't stay this quiet for long.
Still, I'd forgotten how good it felt to breathe again. To be away from the mountain's crushing weight and cold. My body—stronger, faster, nearly unrecognizable from what it had been—felt like it belonged to someone else.
But the power humming beneath my skin wasn't foreign anymore.
It was me now.
I watched the flames dance for a while before lying back against my bedroll, cloak wrapped around my shoulders.
I didn't sleep much.
Something told me I'd need the energy.
—
The next day brought mist and mud.
We moved slower, the trail more tangled and wild. The trees were thick here—old forest, untouched and quiet, but not empty. I could feel eyes on me. Not human. Watching. Waiting.
Around midday, I spotted them.
A pair of scaled beasts lurking between the trees—lean, reptilian things the size of small hounds, with bony ridges along their spines and frosted breath curling from their maws.
Forest drakes.
They weren't brave enough to attack outright. They trailed me at a distance, their claws barely making sound on the soft underbrush. I didn't engage. Not yet. I needed them to make the first move.
And they did.
It was near a shallow ravine that the first one lunged from the trees, jaws open wide, aiming for my horse's flank. I dismounted in a heartbeat, rolled beneath the creature's leap, and buried one of Fenrir's Fangs into its underbelly mid-air.
The second came from the side, faster than I expected.
I twisted just in time, deflecting its fangs with the flat of my blade. It snarled, claws slashing, but I was quicker. I pivoted on one foot and struck upward, extending the dagger's blade mid-swing.
A clean slice through the throat.
Both fell within seconds, twitching and dead.
I cleaned my weapons on the grass, pulled meat from the corpses, and left the rest for scavengers.
Dinner was going to be better than jerky tonight.
—
By the third day, we reached the first village.
It was a small place—wooden homes scattered along the base of a hill, smoke curling from chimneys, children chasing one another in muddy streets. A livestock pen stood near the eastern edge, and I could smell fresh bread long before I saw the bakery.
I tied Grey to the post near the tavern and walked in quietly.
Heads turned.
For a moment, all I heard was the crackle of firewood and the shifting of boots.
Then someone muttered, "Is that—?"
I pulled my cloak tighter.
A few nods passed around the room. Whispers. Recognition.
But no one spoke directly to me. Not until the barkeep, a stout woman with greying hair and sleeves rolled to her elbows, stepped forward and placed a bowl of stew on the counter.
"On the house," she said, her voice firm. "Whatever you did up there on the mountain, it shook the ravines all the way down here."
"…Thank you."
"Stay long?"
"Just a meal."
She gave a small nod and went back to her work.
The stew was good. Thick and rich with herbs. I hadn't tasted anything like it since before the trial began.
The villagers kept their distance, but I could feel the reverence. Not fear, not awe… but something else.
Respect.
I finished the meal, thanked the barkeep, and left before sunset.
I wasn't here to be seen.
—
The next two days bled into one another.
Forests gave way to open plains, and the wind turned warmer still. I hunted birds, caught a boar, even had to fend off a wildcat one night when it mistook Grey for dinner. Each fight was shorter, more precise. I was learning to control my strength. To anticipate.
To dominate.
And yet, even as my body adjusted, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was racing time. That something was just out of sight, watching me from beyond the hills.
I saw smoke rising on the horizon around midday of the fifth day.
Not the kind of smoke from hearths or cookfires.
The kind that came from forges.
From camps.
From war.
—
By nightfall, I spotted the outer perimeter of the war camp. Rows of tents—hundreds of them—lined in tight formation, with torch-lit paths between them and wooden palisades marking the edges. Banners flew high above the command pavilions, their crimson emblems flickering against the firelight.
This was no border skirmish.
This was a real war effort.
I slowed Grey's pace as I approached the outer guards. They raised weapons at first, barking commands, but once they saw my cloak—once they saw me—they froze.
One of them stumbled forward. "P-Prince Kyjell?!"
"Take me to my father," I said.
"R-Right away, my lord!"
He sprinted toward the main tents as another guard ran to open the outer gate. Murmurs swept through the front lines like wildfire. Some stared in disbelief. Others bowed in stunned silence.
And I… I rode in without saying a word.
Tomorrow, I'd face the king.
And I wasn't the same boy who left.