"So, is that yeti's escape from its seal actually connected to the palace over there?"
Mr. Louis of the Church of War and Victory asked, a pipe clenched between his teeth. He cupped one hand around the bowl to shield it from the wind, the other poised with a match, ready to strike.
"My conclusion is that they're likely unrelated," soone replied. "And... I also get a strange feeling from that palace. It doesn't seem malicious... Of course, that's just a guess."
Even if the palace truly harbored no ill will, the party had no intention of ascending. After the Gravediggers helped gather the bodies, the group set off once more. Descending from the mountain, they found their path unexpectedly smooth due to a strange flash freeze that had leveled the area. Aside from the fear of slipping, they had no need to worry about the terrain. As a result, they arrived in the small town of Rossburg at eleven o'clock that night.
They were a full two days ahead of schedule.
The town's two churches had already received word from Ruen. While they hadn't anticipated the group's swift arrival, they still managed to prepare dinner and resting quarters in ti.
Arranging accommodations and planning for the next day took a considerable amount of ti, but thankfully, the railway tracks were back to normal from Rossburg Town onward.
The town had already arranged for a new train to take the party north. It was a steam locomotive originally ant for hauling coal, promising an uncomfortable journey, but with the conflict ahead growing more urgent, they couldn't afford to be picky.
Jenkins was given his own room, sparing him from sharing. It was small, but he wasn't particular. His cat, however, seed to find the bed too hard for its liking. Helpless, Jenkins finally moved the nearly withered flower from the windowsill to the bedside and channeled his life energy into it, forcing it to grow rapidly. Under his deliberate control, the petals pushed past their limits, widening until they were broad enough to cradle a cat.
"There, that should do it, right?"
He twisted five sewing threads into a single, strong cord, then layered the two broad leaves. After punching three holes through each end, he threaded the cord through them. He tied one end to the floor lamp beside the bed and the other to a bedpost. Finally, he removed his pillowcase and laid it over the leaves with a blanket, managing to rig up a small hammock.
"ow~"
The cat agilely leaped into it, settled down, and gave Jenkins a soft ow of approval. It remained with half its head peeking out over the edge of the hammock as its eyes slowly drifted shut.
"See you in the morning."
Jenkins said to his cat, then slipped under the covers himself.
Little did he know what the night ahead had in store for him.
The world of dreams is a mysterious and wondrous place. So theorize that if a non-existent 'mirror world' could beco a reality through collective belief and the passage of ti, then perhaps a 'dream realm' might one day erge as well.
The elves' 'Erald Dream' already possesses the characteristics of such a dream realm. However, because its essence is an accumulation of life spirits, and it shares an inexplicable connection to the legendary World Tree, it isn't considered a true dream realm.
But Jenkins was certain he wasn't dreaming, nor had he fallen into so strange new world. He was still in the material world, standing on a mountain at night, with a cold wind whipping around him as he stared blankly at his surroundings.
As far as he knew, one mont he was slipping into bed and wishing Chocolate goodnight. The next, he closed his eyes and was suddenly standing here.
He raised his head to the two waning moons overhead, then turned to gaze at the distant, star-like lights of the town, and finally, his eyes fell upon the crystal-clear staircase before him.
At the end of the staircase, the gates of the ice palace were wide open, as if welcoming Jenkins inside.
He exhaled deeply. The night air was cold enough that his breath hung in a white cloud that refused to dissipate. The young man reached up and pinched his own cheek, only then realizing he was still in his sleepwear—and barefoot.
The reason he hadn't felt the cold or pain just now was simply because he was stunned by the sudden change of scene.
"Should I call this surprising," he murmured, "or was it just as I expected?"
He muttered to himself, reciting a short incantation that summoned a uniquely designed miner's lamp. Raising his right hand, he held the tal lamp—a thing of distinct chanical beauty—high. Its cold, blue light illuminated the lower section of the icy stairs.
Taking one last look at the town below, Jenkins decided not to waste his spirit creating shoes, and instead stepped barefoot onto the first stair.
"Sss—"
He sucked in a sharp breath, a harsh gasp against the cold. A piercing chill shot up from the soles of his feet straight to his brain, which imdiately ordered his entire body to start trembling.
The ice chess piece subrged in his spirit gave a sudden shudder. As if it had found its target, the chill invaded him, most of it seeping into his flesh and soul, while a smaller portion bored into the chess piece itself.
"So cold!"
Jenkins finally exhaled the frigid air he'd sucked in, then placed his other foot on the ice stair.
He wasn't a masochist, nor did he have so peculiar hobby that involved walking up ice stairs barefoot in this weather. While his initial thought had been to conserve his spirit, after feeling that coldness seep into his very soul, he realized this barefoot journey would likely benefit him in so way.
The staircase was made entirely of ice, making it treacherous and slippery. Jenkins had to grip the railing just to cautiously ascend one step at a ti. The railing itself was exquisitely sculpted, rivaling even the white jade staircase of entwined angels and demons that Jenkins could 'create' in his divine state.
The ice bridge spanned a deep ravine, connecting a side peak to the main summit. The ice was translucent, and as Jenkins ascended, still gasping from the cold, he could occasionally glance down into the bottomless abyss below.
Even without a fear of heights, his stomach lurched, and goosebumps prickled his arms. Of course, that could have just been the cold.
Jenkins walked for a full half hour before his feet touched snow again. To his surprise, the snowy ground actually felt warm. That was a good sign—at least his feet could still register sensation.
His breath plud before him like a white dragon before vanishing. Standing at the top of the ice stairs, he gazed up at the palace, a silhouette against the night sky. Up close, the sight was even more breathtaking.
Between the top of the stairs and the grand staircase leading to the palace gate was a wide, plaza-like clearing. Jenkins stood on its snowy edge; ahead of him lay a single, flawless sheet of ice, as clear as crystal. It had a high refractive index, and seed to glow in the moonlight.
Jenkins carefully lifted his foot and stepped onto the surface. Sure enough, he was t with that sa bone-chilling cold that pierced him to the core.
"Oh, Sage, what on earth am I doing?"
He muttered through chattering teeth, suddenly missing the warmth of his cat curled up on his chest more than he ever had before.
Reviews
All reviews (0)