The way of fire and mind is but one path to wisdom. So too is the way of frost and faith.

Melody travels north in search of mountain-dwellers: Ninetales who have undergone a strange transformation, forsaking their Ember for the embrace of winter.

The snow is gentle, but a blizzard roars behind. In the frigid heights of a Zerferian peak there sits a temple, and in that temple a garden. There, Life and Death meet, the breath of the earth and the shadow of oblivion.

What does it cost to snuff out the Ember? What Pokémon emerges on the other side? What is it like to change so fundamentally?

What does it mean to live and to die?

The Mystic's Path Part 1 - Me

Miranda feels herself being roughly set down, and she lets out a squeak as she impacts the cool floor. Wherever she is, she cannot feel the light of the sun. She knows she is surrounded, but her paws are bound and her face has been covered and she has not dared to speak.

A voice, from above and behind: "Lady Enigma, the one you requested."

"Very good." The voice is distant and cold and floating somewhere above and in front of her. "Remove her bindings. Then leave us."

First her paws are unbound, and then the sack over her head is pulled roughly away; even so, she does not bother to move. The last few times she's struggled she's been hurt.

She is in a dark place. Torches line the walls, but they do not cast genuine light. The vaulted ceiling disappears into darkness and the rest of the room is awash in unnatural and pale light from the false torches. The Pokémon that had been roughly carrying her was nowhere to be seen; instead, in front of her, a specter floated.

This one is like a creature out of a faerie tale; she is swaddled in shadow, draped in it like a cloak, and her head is dominated by a pointed shape not unlike the hat of a witch. But what the Vulpix sees first are her eyes, huge and glowing, vibrant in the pale light, and they are fixed upon her.

"Child," says the specter. One of the tassels of her shadowy cloak floats forward toward her as though holding out a paw. "You'll have to forgive them for their roughness. Those brutes of mine don't know how to treat a child, let alone a little lady like yourself. Are you hurt?"

Miranda eyes the tassel, then looks back up at the specter's eyes. Her ears fold back. She says nothing.

The specter smiles. Her smile is just slightly too wide, her teeth just a little too sharp. "Of course, of course. You're frightened and confused. I would be, too, in your position." She floats down to be closer to eye level with the little fox. "You're from Willow Dun, aren't you?"

She hesitates a moment, but nods.

"Nasty business, that," says the specter, clicking her tongue in disappointment. "A tragedy indeed. But I have good news for you, little one."

One of her tassels reaches out again, and the tip rests against Miranda's nose. It's cold, but not overwhelmingly so. She finds herself looking up into the specter's eyes again as the larger creature looms over her, smile unnaturally wide.

"You have been chosen..."

The Village at Windbreak, Zerferia

Melody jerked awake with a bark.

The room was still dark, but nearby she heard Gideon lurch up with a cry. She could vaguely make out his shape as he crawled out of bed and staggered toward her.

"Are—are you okay? I heard—"

She held up a paw. "I am fine." It was mostly the truth. Her heart was hammering inside her chest and she could only just keep her tails from lashing about beneath the comforter. "I... dreamed."

The Gallade let out a long sigh. In the dim light, she saw him move back to his own mattress and sit. "I thought we'd been found."

Melody brought a forepaw to her collarbone. The charm was still there, tingling lightly under her touch. "I do not doubt that she is looking for us. But I do not think she will expect us to have gone all the way to the edge of the world."

She stood and moved to the closed window. With a brief burst of psychic power she pushed the shutters apart. The room filled with the gray light of Zerferian early morning. It was snowing, and somewhere above the moody clouds the sun had begun to rise. In the distance, just barely visible through the pallor of the falling snow, the silhouette of a mountain rose, threatening to pierce the cloud cover.

Gideon shivered, pulling the blankets up and over his shoulders. "Milady, please."

She glanced at him out of the corner of the eye, then shook her head and pulled the shutters closed again.

"We are moving on today. Get ready." She ducked her head underneath her own mattress and pulled out the bag of supplies, fishing for the wallet. After she found it, she stepped over to the wall and pulled their cloaks down. The heavier, taller one she tossed to him, and he caught it with a grunt. The lighter one—more to conceal her identity than keep herself warm—she wrapped around herself.

She carefully secured the clasp, making sure Amos' charm was hidden under the fabric, then she moved back to the bed and grabbed the sack of coin. "I will secure breakfast and pack for lunch. You will double check we have what we need. It will not be an easy climb."

In the darkness, she saw him wilt. "Today? It's supposed to turn into a blizzard later..."

"All the better to cover our tracks. I do not intend to have Enigma follow us here—if she even can."

She could feel something like resentment emanating from him, but eventually he nodded and stood, securing his own cloak around his shoulders. "Very well, milady. If we need to get any extra shopping done before we set out, I'll see that it gets done."

He carefully wrapped himself up, gave a brief bow, and stepped out.

Now that she was alone, she pushed the room's shutters open again. Beneath her cloak, her paw moved to the charm at her collar.

The image of Amoscandar, hazier and less distinct than it had been in Leppa Town, shimmered into being beside her.

"You are sure this is the correct path?" he asked.

"No," she replied quietly. "But it is the safest one. Enigma will have Pokémon looking for me. Even now, weeks later, I do not doubt that she is furiously searching the continent for her wayward mage. If I was to go to Zonaphèras now, I would only be putting him in danger." Her brow furrowed as she stared at the mountain in the distance. "Besides... if my father's stories are to be believed, we will be beyond the reach of anyone but the gods if we make it up that mountain. And if I have my way, upon our descent..."

She saw Amos turn his head slightly to look at her. "Speaking plainly and as an outsider, my dear... Even considering the remarkable and otherworldly things I have experienced in Ambera, your plan strikes me as... reckless. Impossibly idealistic. I spent many years in Zerferia, and I have never once heard this legend you cling to so tightly. 'Frost and Faith'? Are you sure?"

"If Enigma finds me, I am as good as dead." Melody shook her head. "Death would be the best outcome. More likely she would torture and enslave me, bind me to her will so that I cannot disobey. And to lose myself now, after I have found her, would be the worst fate I can imagine. Perhaps it is reckless and foolish, but this path is the only one I can walk."

The paw on the charm pressed down harder. "Besides, you are here with me. You saw me out of danger at least once before."

"My dear," Amos said dryly. "I am a voice in your head."

Melody smiled. "So you are. But after this long, it is nice to have company."

They split the burden between them. Gideon wasn't lacking for strength, but his frame was slight and too much weight would counterbalance him, which would be dangerous in the wind and on uncertain terrain. Melody took the remaining weight, secured in a carefully balanced bag resting over her shoulder.

The snow had intensified slightly by the time they approached the city's north gate. The heavy cloud cover meant that the world around her hadn't brightened at all, but Melody had her heading in mind now and wasn't about to lose it.

"Strangers!"

She ducked her head, making sure the hood covered as much of her face as possible, as a Pokémon approached from behind. She turned her head and Gideon turned himself entirely to meet the oncomer, a Weavile pushing its way through the deepening snow. "Where in Articuno's name d'you two think you're going?"

Melody eyed Gideon. The Gallade stood a little straighter. "We have business to the north."

"What business?" The Weavile shook its head. "There's nothing to the north!"

"We intend to climb the mountain," Gideon said firmly.

"Are you mad? We're due a blizzard within the day—you'd never make it that far! And even if you did, climbing the Godsroost now is suicide!"

"I've survived worse," Melody murmured softly. Her voice didn't carry far in the snow, but the Weavile seemed to hear her regardless, giving a shrug and shake of its head.

"You're insane!"

"We intend to go," she said, with a little more force behind her words. "If you're concerned we'll get lost along the way, you might consider guiding us."

The Weavile stared blankly. "Are you joking? I don't even know who you are!"

"Then we aren't your concern." Melody shrugged. "Two strangers wandering off to die in a blizzard. Why then should we be your problem?"

The Weavile sputtered, looking back and forth between them. Then it shook its head. "I guess there's no stopping stupid. There's a cabin at the mountain's base—when it gets bad out, the Pokémon that lives there usually lights a signal fire. Keep an eye out. But it's on your own head if you wander out there and die."

As it turned and waded back through the snow, Gideon gave Melody a concerned glance. "Do you think that was wise?"

"It will be safe enough. Even Enigma cannot pry information from the iron grip of a Dark-type's mind." She raised her head and looked toward the mountain, still dimly visible through the snow. "Of more interest to me is this cabin at the foot of the mountain."

The wind picked up. Gideon drew his cloak more tightly about himself. "Probably because of Pokémon like you and I, milady. The mad ones. A last chance to turn around."

"One more chance for shelter." Melody began walking. "Or one more chance to get caught. But I am willing to take that gamble."

"M-Melody!" He hustled after her. "Don't leave me behind!"

Sure enough, not far beyond the town's gates, a glimmer of flame appeared on the horizon. Melody's eyes fixed upon it, plodding toward it as best she could, even as the wind picked up and the snow around her deepened. Behind her, Windbreak had already disappeared into the mass of gray. There would be no way back until the sky deigned to clear.

So be it. She had only one way to go.

Somewhere, sometime...

"Come with you?"

In the middle of the burnt-out husk of a home in the burnt-out husk of a village, one Ninetales sat conversing with the image of another.

Melody nodded. "Yes, Amos. Come with me."

The image of the fox smiled gently. The wind blew. Melody's coat and tails fluttered; Amos' did not. "My story has ended, Melody, and we have barely reconciled. Do you intend to inherit my spirit?"

"I intend," Melody said firmly, "to get your body back."

Amos' eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"

Melody swallowed and wet her nose, looking away. "You will... think me foolish."

"Perhaps you are foolish to toy with life and death," Amos said with a small chuckle. But there was no malice in it. After a moment, Melody continued.

"In my youth, before you arrived in Willow Dun..." Melody pawed at the floor for a moment. "My father went on a journey. It was a long journey—he was gone for over a year, which was, for a kit of my age, an unfathomably long time. When he returned, he told me a remarkable tale. What know you of Zerferia?"

The image of Amoscandar looked thoughtful for a moment. "I spent many years there. There are centers of resistance even in the frozen north, and much of my time was spent among them. But the villages are few and far between, and pockets of distortion turn empty patches of earth and snow into blizzard-bound dungeons. It is not a place traversed on a whim."

"Near the northern edge of Ambera," Melody began, trying to remember her father's words, "there sits a lonely mountain. The locals call it the Godsroost. It is not the tallest mountain in the region, but it is isolated, difficult to approach, and difficult to traverse. Very few have climbed that mountain and lived—at least, there are few records of such. But my father was one of them. He reached the top of the Godsroost."

Amos tilted his head. "If it is as difficult to climb as you say, then Pythopyros is worthy of respect indeed. He always struck me more as a scholar than an adventurer. And what did he find there?"

"An enclave of Ninetales." She raised a paw. "But not Ninetales such as you or I. No Ember burned in their breasts. These were creatures of winter, with coats like clouds and eyes like ice, quiet and eerie and queer. And while our kind have always attracted a sort of dark mysticism, these ones were surrounded by a strange and fickle benevolence—something odd and otherworldly, but not the power of Mind. Something weird. Something fae."

She could see the skepticism in his eyes. "I have heard nothing of this."

"They told him that they were servants of higher powers. Life and death, Amos. At the peak of the Godsroost, it is said that there is a primal place where life bursts forth. A chance to live again—and to change. To shed who we were and see who we might become."

Her Ember flickered in her chest. She raised a forepaw and rested it on her collarbone. "I would like to go. To see... if they might change me. This inner flame has ever dominated me. My passions have ruled me for as long as I have lived—and in my weakness I have robbed countless others of their own lives, you not least of all. I would repay some small fraction of my debt—to return you to life, and to snuff out my flame. If in winter's grasp I might become a better Pokémon and wipe away my shame..."

The elder Ninetales was looking at her sadly, ears splayed to the sides and tails half-curled. "Melody," he said gently. "This is a story. Your father was brilliant and brave, but even he might exaggerate a tale to excite the hearts of young ones. All of us have done this—you and I to Lykaios and Zona, and Lykaios in turn to countless others. Myths and legends have always been used to inspire. And you and I both know well the power of the motivational lie," he added darkly.

"It must be true, Amos. It must be." Melody's tails flicked as she stood to her four paws. "At the very least, if it is not true, then I feel compelled to make the climb and see with my own eyes."

Amoscandar gave her a careful, measured look. "Are you sure you are not simply falling victim to your own passions again, Melody?" He shook his head. "Fire is not merely a weapon, though I understand how it might seem as such to you. Was not your father fond of saying that flame could be used to illuminate the way forward? A guide and a comfort? Zona, too, seeks this path, I think."

Melody shuffled her forepaws, feeling awkward. "It is true that I have only ever heard of this tale from Pytho, and I know of no one who has ever dared to make the climb. But it eats at me, Amos." She hunched. "Death and destruction follow me as though I set the very air ablaze with every step. I have wronged so many. And while I cannot ever repay my debt in full, I feel compelled to do at least this much. If it is true, then you can be returned to life—and I can rid myself of the horrible parasite that is my Ember. Please, Amos," she added desperately. "Please come with me."

Amos looked at her for a long while, expression unreadable. Melody stayed hunched, ears splayed in shame and sorrow. Finally, after a long while, he spoke again.

"In the front yard, where the garden used to be, buried deep, you will find a small box," he said. Melody's ears perked up. "Inside it you will find an old charm in the shape of a lightning bolt, and upon that bolt is embossed a flame. There is nothing mystical about it—no great power to be unlocked. Nevertheless, it is a thing that is dear to me even though I betrayed what it meant a long time ago."

"Lightning and fire...?"

"Energy. Disparity," Amos explained. "The symbols of dynamism. In a faraway land, humans revere these forces, incarnate in the form of powerful dragons. The flare represents Truth—that is, the way of the world. The bolt represents Ideals—that is, the way the world could be. In that distant land, as here, these disparate forces have ever been at war. But there is a narrow path that walks between them. That was Conrad's path, and mine, while I wore it."

"And you wish me to take it?"

"I do." Amos nodded. "Passion and idealism war within you, raging against your desire for pragmatic resolution. Wear that charm. Feel its weight. Know what it represents. And when you wear it, I shall come with you." His sad smile had returned. "I do not know if I believe this tale of yours. But you do. And I will see that you do not walk the path to it alone."

The fire loomed ahead of them, though all else had been reduced to a hollow gray. She could hear Gideon breathing heavily beside her, and one of his arm blades rested on her back. When the wind picked up, she could smell the ash, though without even a hint of the mountain in the distance she had no frame of reference for how close they might be.

She lowered her head and took a few deep breaths, as deep as she dared with the wind pushing against her. Within, she felt her Ember stir with the extra oxygen, and she looked up and let out a long, gentle breath in Gideon's direction. She had no hope of actually warming him up, but she hoped the brief bits of warmth he might feel would help keep him steady. All she got in response was a shudder and a sigh, but his weight on her back did lessen slightly.

Amos' words rose into her mind again, about how Fire could be more than a weapon. And yet she was going to snuff hers out. The irony was not lost on her.

She fought the urge to disappear into her own past again. She had nothing but time while they walked, but focus was paramount. If they got off track or somehow lost the flame, they really would freeze to death. Even wrapped in her cloak and with her Ember burning, the cold was beginning to bite at her something fierce.

Some time later—all sense of specific time was lost in the flurry of wind and snow—she felt Gideon begin to sag again. She growled, but the sound was lost, so she shifted her weight a bit, trying to startle him. She felt him stagger unsteadily.

Before she could help herself, her tails lashed anxiously. Between his own weight and the weight of their supplies, she'd be lucky if she could even drag him through the snow. This wasn't like Willow Dun.

The flame was large in her vision, now, a blinding bright wavering shape amidst the snow. And finally, just barely, the shape of a cottage emerged from the blizzard. Over the wind, she heard Gideon sigh, and then he sagged and collapsed gently into the snow.

Melody snarled, trying to push her way underneath him to lift him up. When that failed, she gently bit into the brown folds of his cloak and tried to drag him, though the snow was dense enough to foil her efforts even when she tried to add her psychic power to the attempt.

After a moment more, she gave up, choosing instead to rush forward through the snow. With another snarl, she threw herself against the cottage door, shoulder checking it and then scrabbling at it with her claws. "Help! Please!"

There was no response. She tried to grip the door in her psychic power, but no matter how she wrenched it, it didn't move. It seemed to be locked from the inside. Melody's eyes flicked back to where she knew Gideon lay. She checked the door again, growling. "Help!"

Gasping, she sat before it, just about ready to burn the door down when it finally cracked open. Deep blue eyes peered at her from inside, and she stood. After a moment, those eyes widened, and the door opened again. A Glaceon stood on the other side, eyes covered by goggles and shoulders wrapped in a scarf.

"Get inside!" it barked.

She shook her head. "My companion—in the snow!" Melody pointed. "He passed out—"

"Get inside!" the Glaceon barked again. "I'll take care of it!"

"You?" Melody snapped. "You're smaller than I am—!"

The Glaceon's tassels whipped in the wind. Melody felt as though the blizzard herself were pushing her inside. After a moment, she yielded, stepping past the Glaceon and into the cabin.

Immediately the sound of the blizzard was shut out. A fire was burning in the nearby hearth. Melody wobbled on her paws at the sudden temperature shift, and her ears rang in the sudden silence. She toddled unsteadily to the side, off balance due to the bag on her back, and found herself suddenly lying on the floor, vision blurry.

The door opened again. The fire in the hearth flickered. Gideon collapsed, inert, beside her.

She tried to push herself to her paws, but the Glaceon stepped into her view again. One forepaw rested on her forehead and pushed gently down. "No. Rest. I'll get him out of the cloth and up against you so you can share warmth."

Melody struggled. "But—"

"Stay down, fox. Even you aren't immune to the cold. Let your body relax. I'll get some soup going and we'll talk when you're both alive again."

Melody wanted to protest, but her body felt strangely numb. She focused on taking deep breaths. Eventually she felt Gideon's shape press up against her, and she wrapped herself around him. He was so cold...

She must have dozed. The next thing she knew, she had been moved up onto a bed, still loosely coiled around Gideon, who was no longer ice-cold against her coat. She raised her head, stirred by the smell of food, and saw the Glaceon carefully setting a bowl down on the end table near her head.

It turned, giving her a careful glance. "Ah, back with us, are you?" Her voice was high-pitched, but gentle. She had traded out the goggles for a pair of what looked to be reading glasses, carefully balanced across her snout. "Good. Eat when you can. Or talk, if you're willing. Though I suppose I know why you're here."

One of Melody's forepaws went to her collarbone. The charm was still there. She looked at the soup, then rolled over so she could get closer to it. For a moment, unused to the words, feeling her pride cringe as she opened her mouth, she said, "Thank you."

"Your cloaks are hanging by the door." The Glaceon turned and pointed; sure enough, the garments hung on hooks near the cottage's entrance, and beneath, nestled against the wall, sat their bags. She turned back. "You can call me Terra."

"Melody," answered the Ninetales after a moment. There were few who would know her by her birth name, so handing it out didn't feel like a risk. "And..." Gideon's name was more dangerous, but who would know about a deserter at the edge of the world? "Gideon."

Terra nodded, then stepped away. Melody dug into the soup as the Glaceon climbed up onto a desk on the far side of the cottage, pulling over a pot of ink and beginning to scribe something down.

"What are you doing out here?" Melody asked eventually, feeling a little more alive after the soup. She turned to look at Gideon, who now appeared to be resting peacefully.

"In my spare time, I write," the Glaceon said, muttering around her writing implement. "But occasionally, I save lives. Most of the time that means sending them back to Windbreak."

"You write? For whom?" Terra didn't seem willing to answer that question, so Melody tried another angle. "A villager told us about you. Are you from Windbreak?"

"No." Terra let the answer hang for a moment. "But even reaching this point is dangerous. You're lucky neither of you are frostbitten. Coming up here in the middle of a blizzard." She shook her head. "You're both crazy. And you especially, fox."

Melody's brow furrowed. "Me?"

"Drawn here by the legends, no doubt." Terra finished her scribing, setting the parchment and implement aside. "You've come a long way to be told to turn around, I'm afraid. Too many stories have ended on that climb."

The Ninetales looked around. The cabin seemed well-stocked; the wall opposite the door, where the hearth still burned cheerily, was hung with what looked like vegetables and fruits and the occasional bit of dried meat. The far wall near Terra's desk was lined with boxes and files, into one of which the Glaceon was sliding what she'd just written.

"How do you live out here, anyway?"

"Gifts," said Terra simply. "Both from Windbreak and the mountain. The villagers sometimes send Pokémon with supplies, and while I'm not to climb the Roost, some things make their way down to me nonetheless."

Melody narrowed her eyes. "From the mountain, or from those who dwell upon it? And what do you mean, you're 'not to climb'?"

The Glaceon looked at her out of the corner of her eye. Mild annoyance twinkled there, radiating off of her in waves. "Another seeker," she muttered. "Trying to grasp at something they can't have."

"Answer the question," Melody snapped.

Terra seemed to weigh her words for a moment, turning to look Melody full on. "Once, I tried to climb it. I was an Eevee, then, and I went with trusted companions of my own. When I came back down," she indicated herself, "I was like this."

"Did you find them?" Melody's ears perked. "The Ninetales who live on the mountain?"

"Listen to me," Terra snapped. Melody pulled back. "The Godsroost is a thing that lives and thinks. It chooses who will climb it."

"A mystery dungeon?" Melody asked.

Terra ignored her. "Even if you reach the top, there will be a price to pay. Do you understand me? I went up as one of five, and came down alone. The mountain will take from you to give you what you want—if it gives you anything at all. If you aren't welcome there, you'll end up buried under ten feet of snow, just like the rest."

"Nevertheless," Melody said, bringing a paw up to the charm around her neck. "I must climb the mountain. For myself... and for others."

The Glaceon watched her. Stared, hard, for a few long moments, expression unyielding. She scowled. "What's that you're wearing?"

Melody's hackles raised slightly. "What does it matter?"

"To you?" Terra chuckled. "Apparently it matters a great deal. Even when you were passed out, when I tried to take it off, you growled at me. Besides, I know what those symbols mean. I'm probably one of the few in Ambera who would."

She took a few slow steps toward Melody. "So which is it? What drives you, Melody? Truth? Ideals? Or do you walk the narrow path between? If you waver in your belief, even for a moment, then the mountain will eat you alive."

Melody's brow furrowed. "What did you find on the mountain?" she pressed.

"What does anyone find on the mountain? Death. Or the answer to the question."

"To what question?"

The Glaceon's eyes shimmered in the firelight. "What question, indeed?"