Wirt didn't know if the Far Frozen lived up to its name when it came to the Far part, but Danny hadn't been exaggerating. The Frozen part fit this place to a T.

Wirt wore a large parka in an ungodly bright orange hue that Danny had borrowed from his dad, and every accessory was the same eye-bleeding colour. He'd have made a joke about hunting if he hadn't thought it would backfire on him.

The coat was a good one, though. The cold still seeped into the places where the cuffs didn't quite seal against his mitts or where his scarf had shifted after he'd immediately stumbled upon stepping onto the snow, but for the most part, he was toasty. His core was warm, and his ears were warm thanks to the toque, but every breath had fogged up and frozen on his eyelashes.

More to the point, his eyes had nearly frozen shut, and he found he had to blink twice as often. Even if he didn't, he could only see a couple of feet in front of him; beyond that, everything dissolved into white.

"It won't be as bad once we get out of the wind," Danny promised. Wirt was pretty sure he only heard the words because Danny was right beside him. "It's just around the corner. Wulf took us as close as he could without risking startling someone."

Easy for Wulf to say. He was covered in fur. Sure, he wore a hoodie and had pulled that hood up, and Wirt wasn't convinced that was just for show (or solidarity, come to that), but Wulf had definitely started out warmer than the rest of them. At least, he had if ghosts felt the cold in the same way that humans did.

The other humans were fairing better than Wirt, though, because it wasn't just the exposed skin on his face that was slowly turning to ice. He was the only one without boots, which meant his shoes had been full of snow after the first step. His toes were so cold they hurt, but at least that was better than them being numb—even if it didn't feel that way right now.

He'd thought he was prepared for this.

He was not.

"Are you sure we couldn't get closer?" Wirt hissed between chattering teeth.

"Technically? Yeah, but it's not proper etiquette. Trust me; Dora keeps drilling me on that stuff. Wulf's really polite, and I don't think it's just to make up for everything I accidentally screw up."

Wirt wasn't about to ask who Dora was. He didn't need more people to try to keep track of when he couldn't even put a face to their name. "Isn't it impolite to freeze your guests half to death?"

Danny bit out a bark of laughter loud enough that Wirt was surprised the others didn't turn around to see what had prompted it. "Not usually a problem here, but Frostbite has kept some things from our world off Walker's radar for when it is. It's going to be fine; he knows how to deal with humans. Mostly."

That might be as close as Danny got to a glowing recommendation, but Wirt wasn't crazy about repeating this experience anyway. If this weird pocket of eternal winter was a thing in the Ghost Zone, chances were good lava pits and stuff were, too, that were likewise inhabited by ghosts who more than thrived in the environment when Wirt was all too likely to perish on his way to his destination.

In a few more steps, they rounded the promised corner, finding an opening in the ice cliffs (natural or not, Wirt hardly cared) that mercifully sheltered them from the wind. Wulf led them deeper inside, following a path illuminated from sconces with bright bluish globes that weren't throwing heat like Wirt had first hoped. Getting out of the wind and snow helped considerably, but he didn't feel like he was thawing out yet.

That was perhaps just as well, since it meant he was too cold to do anything stupid like scream when a monster twice Jim's size appeared out of a hidden passage.

Wirt did not see the delicate tray clutched in—his? Hers? Their? Wirt had no idea—paws until Danny was passing out hot chocolate and introducing them all to Avalanche.

Wirt had never met a polar bear—hadn't even seen one in a zoo—but he imagined that Avalanche's thick white hair (coat?) was similar, even if their sharp grey eyes and the deep blue horns sprouting from their head meant there was no chance of mistaking what Avalanche truly was—yeti or mountain troll ghost, apparently.

They also made really good hot chocolate. Wirt had already burnt his mouth but had absolutely no regrets on that front. The mug was about the size of a beer stein and heavy enough that it could have been made from stone for all Wirt knew, but the heat permeated even through his mitts. As he drank, that warmth seemed to settle somewhere in his core and warm him from the inside out, chasing away the chill from his bones. And the taste! That it was better than anything he'd ever had on campus wasn't a surprise, but this was easily the best he'd ever had in his life.

Wendy was the first one to say so, but everyone else agreed, too.

Avalanche led them to a waiting room—or, at least, that's what Wirt assumed it was, since the circular room rested in a maze of corridors that splintered off in practically every direction. Maybe getting people lost in this place was another way these ghosts protected themselves, if the cold alone wasn't enough. That would be a more logical reason than politeness for Wulf to refuse to get them to where they wanted to go; he might not be entirely sure how to get them there accurately.

The room itself was about the size of a small classroom and full of benches and chairs with various levels of padding. Wirt sank into something the size of a loveseat and immediately kicked off his shoes, cocooned himself in blankets, and cupped his toes with alternating mug-warmed hands. It felt too nice for him to worry that it might be poor etiquette, even if that was a big deal for these guys. Maybe he could claim ignorance?

Well, maybe not, if he was expected to follow Danny's example. Danny and Toby were too busy talking with another one of the ghosts to even sit down. Claire looked like she'd be in that conversation, too, if Douxie hadn't taken her arm and steered her towards one of the benches. Wendy and Jazz sat nearby, conversing too softly for Wirt to overhear anything, and Avalanche—

Wirt didn't know where Avalanche had gone.

Hopefully, they'd be back with more hot chocolate.

Toby joined Wirt before any more hot drinks appeared, chocolate or no. "Frostbite says we can see him soon."

"You guys should still go first. I'll wait with Wendy and Jazz while you, I dunno, catch up or debrief or whatever it is you do after something goes sideways."

"Yeah," Toby said, and Wirt was too surprised that Toby was agreeing now to tease him about it. Maybe Jim wasn't as okay as Toby had been hoping and Frostbite had said something to that effect? Or maybe Toby was just worried that Wirt was right and all of this, all at once, might overwhelm Jim when it came on top of whatever else had happened?

Wirt might not understand much, even now, but he knew no one fought a war and came out unscathed.

"It'll be fine," Danny said from behind Wirt's back, and Wirt started. If his mug hadn't been almost empty, he might've scaled himself. He could practically hear the snicker in Danny's voice as he continued, "You won't even need me in there to explain things. I think Frostbite knows more about this Trollhunter stuff than I do, and it really doesn't sound like this is Jim's first rodeo."

"That bridge was crossed ages ago," Toby agreed. He looked back at Wirt, grinned, and added, "Long before Killahead was destroyed. Whichever time that was. Maybe both."

A quick glance at Danny was enough to convince Wirt that he didn't understand the reference, either, which was a relief. Being the person who understood the least wasn't a great feeling, even if Wirt knew perfectly well how he'd wound up in the position.

Besides, if Toby was willing to drop a name like that and just wait for him to ask? It meant he was feeling up to talking about it. Which was nice, since Wirt's ideas of off-limit topics with his friends had skewed dramatically since he'd first met them.

Of course, if he were being honest with himself, they hadn't always been his friends.

Toby had been his roommate and quickly grown to be his friend, sure, but the others? Wendy had started out as Toby's friend. Jazz had started out as Wendy's roommate. Wendy had just started including Wirt in stuff when he hadn't known how to refuse, and Jazz had started hanging around more and more once Wendy had pulled him into her circle.

By the end of these twenty-four hours—whenever he decided he should retroactively start counting those twenty-four hours—Danny probably wouldn't just be Jazz's brother any more than Claire and Douxie (and maybe even Jim) were going to just be Toby's friends from back home.

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime," he said as Avalanche returned with more deliciously scented liquid warmth. Wirt drained the last of what he'd been savouring and swapped his empty mug for a full one with a wide smile and a quiet thank you while Toby and Danny—being of questionable judgement—turned down a second helping of the best thing to come out of this place. "Right now, this is all I care about."

"Frostbite's back, anyway," Danny said with a nod towards one of the tunnels branching out on the right, "which means Jim's up, which means—"

"—that I have to catch up to Claire, yeah." Toby got to his feet. "Thanks for all this. Both of you."

Wirt opened his mouth to ask what the heck Toby thought he had to thank him for, but Toby was already moving to meet up with Claire and Douxie.

Danny smirked as Wirt closed his mouth and said, "My guess? He was tired of pretending. Not sure if it's more likely to be his pretending or yours, but Jazz might know. She's good at figuring out that kind of thing."

Wirt stared at him, which clearly didn't bother Danny in the least. He gave Wirt a cheeky wave before sneaking up on his sister and dropping—if Wirt had to guess from her reaction—a handful of ice down her back.

Wirt didn't ask where Danny had gotten the ice, even though he hadn't seen him carrying anything earlier or spotted anywhere he could have found some loose chunks or pried some free.

Wendy didn't ask, either, and she'd seen Danny coming and hadn't warned Jazz.

Frankly, Wirt thought Danny got off easy when he got a punch to the arm and an earful rather than a mug of hot chocolate to the face, but clearly Jazz valued the drink for what it was.

Then again, maybe she simply didn't fault Danny for what he was trying to do: take their minds off what they were doing.

Waiting.


Wirt had been drifting on the edge of sleep when someone shook him, and he started awake with his heart doing its best to escape his chest.

"We still need to work on your reflexes," Wendy said with a grin as she helped untangle him from the blankets, "but you'll get there eventually."

Wirt pushed the bundle of blankets to the side and glanced to the floor to make sure the empty mug was where he'd left it, on the floor by the armrest where he'd rested his head. It was. At least he hadn't slept through someone doing cleanup; Wendy wouldn't have let him live that down, especially not now that all her lessons might really matter. "Not gonna give me a lecture for letting my guard down?" It might be a poor attempt at humour, but it was all he could manage right now.

"Nah, not when we're here to watch your back. That's about as safe a time to sleep as you'll ever get."

How come she could say something that sounded like it was meant to be comforting, have it achieve the opposite effect, and simply stand there looking like she'd intended it like that all along?

"You know that's not comforting, right?"

Wendy smiled.

Jazz rolled her eyes. "Anyway, we can go in now, so get your shoes back on. Danny turned them intangible to dry them off. They shouldn't be too bad, just a bit cold."

Danny waited until the girls had turned away to follow one of the ghosts—Frostbite, maybe?—who was just disappearing down one of the corridors before he leaned closer to Wirt and muttered, "Wendy definitely said it that way on purpose."

Wirt was too busy shoving his feet into his shoes to sort out how he felt about that beyond the general feeling that Danny was probably right, and then Danny added, "That's pretty basic knowledge anyway. What Wendy was talking about, I mean, not your shoes. Jazz doesn't have a roommate just to keep the costs down. She was planning on finding a place and, like, vetting potential roommates—interviews and everything—because no one who actually knows our parents would consider rooming with her."

Wirt was not sure how much that said their parents as opposed to Jazz herself, but he kept his mouth shut and got to his feet instead, letting Danny lead him in the right direction.

"Jazz and I found all the anti-ghost booby traps at her first place in the first twenty-four hours after Mom and Dad went home, but uh, not before some of them went off. She got an eviction notice instead of a roommate out of that one. And lost the damage deposit, obviously." Danny shrugged. "She's lucky she found Wendy. Or that Wendy found her. I forget exactly how it went. I was dealing with some other stuff at the time, and it was mostly sorted by the time I got back."

Did Danny want him to ask? Wirt wasn't even sure if he wanted to know. Was everything just going to get worse if he did ask?

"How—?" Wirt didn't know how he should put this. "Given what you've figured out about these people here, um, do you know, or have any idea, just how— I mean, do you know how big all of this is? Not this place but" —he waved his hands around him, trying to capture with the action what he couldn't with his words— "everything?"

Danny glanced at him. "The Ghost Zone mirrors our world, and I haven't seen the half of it. But from what I have seen? There's way more out there than just ghosts, trolls, magic, and demons. I don't think you'll have as much trouble finding other people who know about some part of it as you think you will, if that's what you're worried about."

That was something Wirt was worried about, mostly because he didn't want to let his friends down, but that wasn't his main concern.

From what he could tell, the others had embraced whatever had happened to them. They hadn't actively tried to avoid it, or at least, they hadn't actively ignored it. They'd accepted it, and they'd learned, and he—

In his ignorance, he was going to make a mistake sooner rather than later. A mistake that was going to cost something substantial. If there was some war going on that he was going to be involved in, however peripherally, he was a liability right now. The risk he posed didn't outweigh the reward he might reap from whatever he did. Not yet.

He'd need to change that.

Assuming he didn't get ulcers or something from the stress of it all first.

"Yeah," Wirt said, but something in his tone was off even to his own ears; it was too forced, too bright. "That's what I meant."

Danny didn't call him on it, but Wirt was pretty sure he'd noticed.

Frankly, Wirt didn't think anyone could grow up with Jazz and not pick up an ear for that sort of thing when she'd be the type to comment on it.

The silence between them lasted only a few more seconds anyway, and then Wirt found himself catching up to Wendy and Jazz and following them into another cavernous room lit primarily with that same soft light that had been in the corridors and the waiting area.

Frostbite was seated in one corner on an enormous chair that obviously existed for the purpose, but Toby, Claire, and Douxie were clustered around a bed.

They weren't big enough to fully hide the figure laying upon it.

Jim.

"Hey," Wendy said easily as she joined up with the others. "Wendy Corduroy. Nice to meet you, Jimbo."

"I wish it were under better circumstances," Jazz added from Claire's side. "I'm Jazz Fenton. You've probably already heard about my brother, Danny."

Danny had abandoned Wirt at some point and appeared beside Jazz in a move that Wirt wasn't entirely sure had been supplemented by his powers and not Wirt's own questionable observational skills. "Frostbite's an old friend of mine," Danny said, giving a little wave.

Toby was glancing back, looking at Wirt, and Wirt swallowed and came forward. "Hey," he croaked as Jim's bright blue eyes focused on him, "I'm Wirt."

"Toby's friends," Jim said as a smile spread across his face. It softened his features—if it could really be called that when it still looked like he could have been sculpted by stone. Did he actually seem more human than Frostbite, or was that just Wirt's imagination? Were there echoes of the human boy Jim had once been in his expressions or was that just some combination of wishful thinking and the very human tendency to ascribe pieces of humanity to beings which lacked it?

Wirt swallowed, trying to push down the traitorous thought.

Jim was Toby's friend.

That was all that mattered.

That was all that should matter.

"It's good to finally meet you," continued Jim. "I've heard a lot about you guys."

"All good things, I hope," quipped Jazz.

"Enlightening things," Jim said, which made Wirt's stomach twist even more. It wasn't that he thought Toby would've said anything bad about them, but enlightening things? What was that supposed to mean? Toby hadn't known the full story until Wirt had told him earlier tonight, so unless he'd actually taken the time to repeat it now—

"I'm sorry," continued Jim, and Wirt's brain stuttered to a halt. "I know what it's like to be caught up in something you don't fully understand. I know it's not easy. And even if you have your own experiences, that doesn't make any of this exactly pleasant to relive."

"You're right," Wendy said blithely, to Wirt's considerable surprise. "It's not our first rodeo. Most of us didn't expect it to be our last. You don't need to apologize for that. This is something I'd rather know about than be ignorant of even if I don't know the half of it."

"And from what I can gather," Jazz added quietly, moving to wrap one hand around her brother's shoulders, "you've been dealing with and adapting to the consequences of your own decisions for a long time. We can all relate to that, even if it isn't from firsthand experience."

"Way to be subtle," Danny muttered under his breath, but he didn't pull away from her.

Jim's smile turned wry. "Yeah. I guess I have. We all have."

Wirt waited for Jim to explain what had happened to him, what war they were really fighting, some kind of detail the others hadn't shared earlier, but he didn't. The closest they came to that was when Wendy brought up combat strategy, and Frostbite was quick to intercede and shut that line of conversation down, saying the Trollhunter must rest, and resting included taking a mental break from his duties until he had recovered further.

Jim looked chagrined but took the forced subject change in stride, asking how the others were faring in their classes, and Wirt realized he couldn't do this.

He couldn't pretend that everything was normal. That everything was fine. That this wasn't crazy.

"Excuse me for a sec," he said, stepping away. He caught Jazz's sharp look and shook his head before turning and retreating to the corridor. He just…. He needed a minute.

He wanted to do this for his friends. He did. So why was it so hard? Wendy had been trying to teach him to roll with the punches since he'd met her; how come he was no better at it than when she'd started?

Jim was one of Toby's best friends. Had been since childhood. And he was a troll now. With a human soul. Wirt had seen enough that that shouldn't freak him out. So why was he so uncomfortable? Danny unsettled him, too, but it was different. Maybe because Wirt had known him for a little bit longer? Was that it?

Or was it just that Danny still looked human even if he wasn't, and Jim didn't?

Was he really that shallow?

Wirt sucked in a breath and sat down cross-legged under one of the sconces, pressing his back against the cool rock wall behind him. He was cold, but that had nothing to do with the temperature in this place. He could be somewhere called the Boiling Isles and still feel this coldness emanating from inside of him.

Despite trying to avoid it, he found himself thinking about what Jazz had said earlier. About dealing with and accepting the consequences of your own decisions. Danny had done that. Jim had done that. Wirt hadn't.

Wirt hadn't, and seeing Jim bothered him because it felt like a reminder that he hadn't, a reminder that he couldn't ignore or pretend away because it was staring him in the face.

Wirt had long since learned something he hadn't known back in the Unknown: Greg had saved him when he'd given up. If he'd accepted the consequences of his actions, he wouldn't even be here. He'd still be there. He'd belong to the Beast.

Jim wasn't a demon. Listening to him talk had confirmed that much, not that Wirt had had any remaining doubt. But, for completely illogical reasons, he felt entirely too similar to the person Wirt could have become if he'd taken the Beast's deal or if Greg hadn't…if he hadn't….

Wirt's breath exploded out of him and he leaned forward, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

He wasn't being fair to Jim. He knew that. He was being colossally rude. But the idea that Jim had been human, that he wasn't any more, at least not on the outside—

It sounded like a curse.

A curse Wirt had unfairly avoided, finding loopholes with Greg's help as he had, while Jim and his friends—and his family, from what the others had said about Jim's mother—had accepted what had happened. They'd adapted. Claire was still besotted with him, even Wirt could tell that, and Toby clearly didn't look at him and see anything other than his friend. The same friend he'd always had, Wirt would wager.

What if, once Wirt got properly involved in all this, some kind of cosmic karma decided it was time to settle up on old deals, regardless of how aware of the consequences he'd been at the time of their making?

What if he somehow ended up looking like himself but losing his soul?

No. That was crazy, right, to think something like that might happen? He was just borrowing trouble again, worrying about something that wasn't even a possibility. There wasn't going to be some kind of weird reckoning. Souls couldn't be stolen and kept alive in lamps. That was just a story. It was a story the Woodsman had believed, but it was just a story.

Wirt heard footsteps coming down the hallway, footsteps that stopped beside him, and he heard someone else settle against the wall.

He didn't lift his head.

"Hey," came Toby's voice, "so, let me guess, you're not as okay as you've been pretending, and this all got to be a little much?"

Wirt made a sound that might charitably have been described as a grunt.

"Sorry. I was excited for you to meet Jim, so I pushed you." He felt Toby knock into his shoulder. "Jazz could probably list off ten thousand other ways I screwed up, too, so I'm sorry for whatever else I did that crossed the line."

Wirt huffed out a broken laugh and looked up. "It's not you, Tobes. None of this is about you. You're great."

Toby raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's me. Really. Being stupid. As usual."

"Stop that. Feeling stuff isn't stupid. If you say that again, I'll tell Jazz and you'll have to face the consequences."

Wirt blew out a breath and leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the soft blue glow around the sconce. He'd thought it had been brighter before, assuming that wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him. Maybe it was dying out, whatever it was, and was slowly dimming to nothing? It didn't flicker like fire, anyway, and he couldn't hear any sort of hum. It was just quiet, steady, there, offering comforting solidity in a strange world.

For now.

Sure, he might not think that if he examined the light more closely and tried to figure out how it worked, but he'd take the illusion for what it was.

"You wanna talk or sit here or—?"

"I think—" Wirt broke off. The words had come out of his mouth without his permission, since he very much did not want to admit to Toby what he had been about to say. How could he tell Toby—

"Yeah?"

—that something about his best friend unnerved Wirt in a way that Jazz's actually dead or close enough to it brother did not?

It was stupid and illogical and Wirt didn't want to feel this way because Jim seemed nice, and no one else was freaked out, so he shouldn't have a problem with it, but—

"I think I drank too much hot chocolate," Wirt said, because that was true enough even if it was very obviously an excuse.

"Oh, that's not a problem. We're not the first human guests to show up here. C'mon, I'll show you where the little boy's room is. You'd never guess it because this place is built for trolls adapted to the cold, right, but they have these hot springs close by, and—"

Toby babbled on, and Wirt followed where he led.