Jack's eyes shot open.
He gasped for air, his body convulsing as if dragged from the depths of a nightmare. Cold bit at his skin. He lay sprawled on a floor of solid ice, clad in nothing but black shorts that exposed the pale tone of his skin.
Then he saw it—the place where a bloodied spear had once pierced his chest.
Now, in its place, a gaping hole lay open... not of flesh and bone, but of ice.
Crystalline armor spread from the core of his chest across his limbs, glimmering with a blue hue. Within it, his heart pulsed visibly, like a frozen star.
As if I've merged with ice itself…
His breath caught. Panic surged through his body.
"Agh—!"
Agony exploded from within. His heart pumped cold blood through his veins, and it burned—
Like fire made of frost.
He crumpled to the floor, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.
Moments passed. A flicker of composure returned.
Jack pressed both palms against the ice, panting.
"Cough… cough."
A thick, viscous liquid spilled from his mouth—blue, like the veins now glowing beneath his skin.
A glint ahead caught his eye.
His dagger...
Lying only a meter away.
He crawled toward it with trembling limbs, seized the hilt, and rose shakily to his feet. His breathing grew rapid. His eyes—sharp, beastlike—scanned the endless white. Nothing but a sea of frozen wilderness.
Then—
"Hey, you woke up!"
A voice.
Jack turned sharply.
A tall, slender man stood nearby. His brown beard framed hazel eyes filled with mischief. Wavy hair fell to his shoulders. A red jacket sat loosely atop a white sweater, and wide brown pants were cinched by a thick leather belt.
The man crouched, setting down a box casually.
"Here. I brought some—"
Jack didn't wait.
He lunged forward; dagger aimed straight for the man's heart.
But the man sidestepped easily, brushing Jack's strike away with the back of his hand. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
Jack's rage deepened.
"YOU…!"
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?!"
"You… you did something to her… didn't you…?"
He swung again, this time aiming for the throat.
The blade caught only a lock of hair.
The man leapt backward, a few meters away now—his eyes lit with excitement.
"Ho! Those eyes of yours, kid!"
Jack snarled, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. He planted his feet and dashed again.
"Shut up… MURDERER!"
This time, he slid low across the ice just before impact.
The blade sliced the man's ankle.
Blood tainted the ice beneath them.
Jack skidded to a stop, his breath ragged, and spun around—now standing behind his target.
The man blinked, caught off guard.
"Ho…"
But then, slowly, a grin spread across his face—wider than before.
"My name is Nicholas," he said calmly. "And I'm here because Grac—"
"Listen, old man…" Jack cut him off, his voice cold and unshakable.
"If you think you got away with this... you're wrong."
Without warning, he drove the dagger down.
Over and over.
Each strike bit into the ice, sending splintering cracks beneath their feet, spreading outward like a web of glass.
"What do you think you're doi—"
Nicholas froze as the ice gave way.
"You will pay!" Jack shouted.
The ground beneath them shattered, revealing the dark, frigid waters below. Nicholas tried to retreat, but Jack's earlier attack had hit deep. He stumbled—his leg useless.
Jack grinned, satisfied, even as he himself slipped into the icy depths.
God... I really am going to die a terrible death, he thought.
At least he'll go down with me...
Nicholas, surprisingly, wasn't panicking. He stared at the cracked ice, lost in thought.
Then—
"Ho..."
He smiled.
Is that… a smile?
Jack stared in disbelief. Does he not realize he's about to drown? No… that's not it.
He was already halfway submerged, limbs going numb.
Then—Nicholas placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle.
A moment later, something raced toward them across the plain.
A steed appeared on the horizon, galloping toward them. Its movements were silent against the frozen plain. As it drew closer, Jack realized what it was.
A reindeer…
But not just any reindeer. This one was otherworldly, its legs stretching meters with each gallop, levitating above the ice as if gravity had no hold on it.
Have I gone crazy? I'm seeing things, right?
First my body, and now this...
I won't even be able to avenge them.
With exhaustion consuming him, Jack lacked the strength to swim toward anything. The dagger had shattered the ice around him, leaving him with no escape. As water enveloped him, Jack closed his eyes, finally accepting his gruesome fate.
He would die...
But just then, a strong hand grabbed Jack's wrist, pulling him free from the freezing depths.
His body, limp and near its limit, was hoisted onto the back of the massive reindeer. He couldn't move anymore. Not even enough to resist. He lay slumped behind the very man he'd just tried to kill.
A strange warmth slowly spread across his body as they rode beyond the frostbitten plains.
The wind bit at his skin, but the man's presence—his back, solid and unyielding—carried a surprising calm. The man's voice reached Jack, deep and steady, like embers beneath winter snow.
"Don't exert yourself any longer, kid," he said. "Rest for now. We'll arrive by dawn."
Jack didn't answer.
He couldn't.
He tried to lift his arm, shift his weight—anything. But his body refused. Instead, his head dropped against the man's back, his raven-black hair brushing against the red jacket stained faintly with blood.
I'm tired...
His thoughts were fleeting as his eyelids shut, his consciousness drifting into darkness. The only sound that followed was the soft gallop of the reindeer's hooves—so light they never quite touched the ice.
Nicholas' brown hair fluttered behind him in the wind, untamed, as they continued their silent ride across the endless white.
***
When Jack opened his eyes again, it was to the soft creaking of wood and the crackling of a fire.
He was wrapped in a thick blanket, the sensation unfamiliar after so much cold. His body still bore the markings of the ice that had once overtaken him, but warmth... warmth had returned.
His piercing blue eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light of the small cottage.
The room was simple, rustic—wooden walls, a chimney glowing softly in the corner. A fire roared gently inside, casting flickers of light across the floorboards.
Sitting beside it in a rocking chair was a man.
Jack didn't need to guess who.
Nicholas sat quietly, his brown hair tied in a lazy bun, a masculine beard lining his jaw. His eyes were fixed on the fire, a thoughtful silence clinging to his frame. On his lap rested a familiar silver dagger—Jack's dagger.
Jack remained still, watching him.
Where... am I?
Why did he save me...?
Finally, he broke the silence. His voice was rough and cracked from the cold.
"Good morning, kid," Nicholas said without looking, as if he'd known Jack was awake the whole time...