(A/N) Another long wait, I apologize. I'm busy with school, so just know that the fic is still on my mind and in progress. Thanks for all of the reviews and alerts last chapter, I appreciate it!

As always, warnings for mild language.

Disclaimer: I only own Zerai. Not too proud of that actually... But I do own the Meltokian government hehe. So don't sue me, else the Knights that I don't own will be after you!

Chapter 34

The cold was biting. It worked its way into their bodies, settling in their bones and their eyes. Yuan had been told it was due to a frigid ocean current near the coast, sweeping up from the northern ice caps and spreading the arctic temperatures all the way to the mainland. Now he knew that it was in part due to a Summon Spirit, and that made the halfling grouchier. An entity was actually making them miserable on purpose. At least there was someone to blame for his numb fingers and frost-bitten toes. He hiked his cloak a little higher upon his shoulders in order to better block the wind.

.

Two weeks had passed since they had cleared the mountain range.

.

Two long weeks—days filled with plenty of walking, and nights encumbered with increasingly low temperatures. They had only dared to stop in a small town once since, and the encounter left them warier than before. Now, he was busy keeping a fellow Sylvaranti in check and trying to make sure they didn't freeze into popsicles overnight.

Night had fallen after another bout of frigid walking, their boots caked in patches of snow and their breath puffing out in wisps of fog. Now, Yuan had just begun his shift at the fire, feeding it mana to stay lit despite the lack of firewood in the region. The flame wasn't very hot, but it was so much warmer than the night that it felt like waves of summer were rolling out from it. The warmth brought a painful tingling into his fingers, so he rubbed feeling back into the digits as his eyes danced over the licking flames.

Martel had curled up next to Mithos in their sleeping pouch, and Zerai had pulled his own so close to the fire that Yuan was tempted to burn him for it. Kratos alone seemed unaffected by the cold, his hands folded behind his head as he gazed up at the star dappled sky. The carelessness towards the temperature had Yuan frowning slightly. Was the Aionis still working properly? He swallowed his question. Kratos would surely brush it off.

They were the only two awake at the moment, dark enfolding the flickering fire so thoroughly that the white tundra was a silhouette against the deep horizon.

"You should be sleeping." Yuan muttered, shifting into a better sitting position on his unfurled blanket.

"Hn." Kratos hummed noncommittally, "I do not require much sleep to travel. You should let me tend the fire."

But Yuan remained adamant on taking shifts, so he shook his head. Even though Kratos couldn't see the motion, he took the silence as answer enough.

"Do you still count them?"

The halfling was referring to the stars, and when he looked up, he could understand Kratos' fascination with them. Here, away from the cities with such a flat, wide landscape, the sky was brilliant. Specks of light were spilled over the midnight blue in twinkling strips—like jewels woven intricately into a rich fabric. It was breath-taking.

"Sometimes." Kratos admitted, but it was spoken absently. Though he was dying to ask how well Kratos had been sleeping (if he even had been sleeping, that is), Yuan left him with his thoughts. They both had quite a number of problems to ponder after all. Simply the word 'problem' led his gaze darting over the still form of the raven.

.

"You know, Sylvarant is much nicer this time of year." Zerai muttered as they trudged through the cool, greying grasslands. The brittle grass crunched underfoot and white painted the distance like an omen of lower temperatures to come.

"What would we even do there?" Mithos bit back, rubbing the chill from his arms and tossing a poisonous glance at the Sylvaranti. The human was unfazed and simply grinned in return.

"Whatever it is you seem to be doing here? You tell me."

"We don't trust you." It surprised Yuan that Martel spoke these words, without chill or malice, just caution. That did have an effect on Zerai, if only minimally. He threw a very obvious glance at Yuan, one full of taunt that had the halfling bristling immediately. He wouldn't dare.

"What's wrong with Sylvaranti? Tethe'alla's not as righteous as you think." Yuan grit his teeth. The past few days, the human had grown bolder and bolder with his hints. Yuan had no idea what Martel and Mithos would do if they found out he was of the opposing nationality. It was a petty secret to keep, yes, but he found himself more self-conscious each time Martel pushed the raven away. Would she say the same to him if she knew?

"You caused the deaths of seven people, and you don't seem the least bit remorseful." Martel sighed instead, "Someone like that… you don't earn our trust so easily." Martel was walking ahead of Zerai, so she didn't see his mouth curve into a dark smile, but Yuan did. He also noted the near imperceptible stiffening of Kratos' form.

Right. The Latheon Gorge incident.

Yuan wasn't sure what Kratos had told him about what really happened, and the Sylvaranti never knew of their initial intention to break him out, so the damage could be trifling, or severe if he had worked out the truth.

"I've killed far more than seven people." Zerai shrugged instead, "But the seven deaths I was arrested for, I had nothing to do with." This just earned a scoff from Mithos, and a customary glare from Kratos.

And so they walked on, but there was nothing comfortable about the presence of Mysan.

.

Yuan was beginning to despise the way the other held on to information like some kind of lifeline. Any chance he would get to lord his knowledge over them, Yuan had no doubt he would take it. Physically, though, the raven was not so threatening. He revealed more than competent skill with a dagger, or short sword, but nothing extraordinary. The best way to describe his fighting style was reckless and merciless. If anything, prison had rendered him frail, and clumsier than Yuan thought he should be. After breaking Kratos out of the Meltokian prison, Yuan had gotten the impression that Zerai had tried to keep himself in shape. What he was seeing now, though, suggested that the human could perform exceedingly well when given life or death incentive—for he really did seem to be struggling with the travel alone.

It just made the man a greater weight around their ankles.

Yuan had next to no clue how much time they had to find as many Summon Spirits as they could, but this snail's pace of travel was not preferable.

With so much time to think while they walked, Yuan had only worried more and more over the mana balance, and suddenly everything appeared more tenuous. Even now, simply sitting at a fire, he was worrying over whether or not Kratos' symptoms had begun to manifest again.

"Yuan, calm yourself. I can practically hear you thinking." Kratos murmured, and Yuan blinked into awareness.

.

"You kind of freak me out, sometimes." He replied after a moment, realizing that the fire had doubled in height and intensity due to his carelessness. He quickly brought it back down.

"Hn."

Yuan's mouth quirked into a half smile. At least Kratos still had a sharp head on his shoulders. Yuan could count on him to set them all straight—should the time ever come.

That morning, Kratos pulled his pack together faster than usual. Lately it felt like they were losing so much time. Come everything that had passed within the last few months, and he had the sensation that they were painting themselves into a corner. Just a few days prior, they made the mistake of visiting a town—another relatively small one.

.

Kratos eyed the old, worn down vendor stalls as they passed by. Supplies would do them well, and Mithos looked like he could desperately use a night in an inn. The boy was snappish recently, and circles had prominently formed under his eyes as if he wasn't sleeping.

The blonde halfling's eyes still lit up upon the sight of the run-down buildings, and he trailed animatedly behind Martel from stall to stall. Kratos felt a fond smile touch his lips briefly before he caught himself and quickly erased it. His own russet irises slid over the homely street side, catching briefly on merchandise before spotting a news board in the center of the street.

Curious for tidings from the capitol, he approached the bulletins secured firmly to the building behind them. Getting a better look at its contents caused his blood to freeze.

Stuck firmly over the other fliers, in the center were two wanted posters. His own likeness stared back at him, strikingly auburn and grim in appearance. There was no name given, but the inscription below read:

'Armed and dangerous Meltokio prison escapee. May be traveling with two halflings.'

There was a substantial reward written and a request that he would be brought back alive. Kratos felt a severe headache coming on, and he tugged the other fugitive out of the open street to face the wall with him. Zerai gave him a funny look before he harshly gestured to the other's likeness.

That one did have a name, as well as the copious list of his confessed crimes.

"Dead or alive." The raven hissed, looking both directions warily before ripping the offending pieces of paper down with more violence than necessary. They gathered the remaining members of the party as quickly as possible before leaving with haste.

"What's going on?" Mithos finally asked when they had put some distance behind them. Kratos simply shoved the rumpled wanted posters into the boy's surprised hands.

"Shit." Yuan exclaimed, earning a chiding look from Martel.

"At least they left your name off of it." The blonde boy finally said after a thorough examination.

"It'll be a nuisance if they've posted them any further north." Martel's delicate brow furrowed.

"Why would his name be a problem?" Mysan asked a little too innocently.

"I'm surprised they got the word out so soon. At least they aren't after you two as well." Yuan addressed Martel and Mithos, entirely ignoring the other Sylvaranti's inquiry.

"I doubt they'd even be able to glean a basic description. No one really talked much to us, and if they did, it was indirectly through Kratos." Martel shrugged.

"Still, we have to avoid what towns we can for now." Kratos instructed, "Getting the Knights on our backs is the last thing we need." And it was true. The royal guard was formidable when it came to law enforcement.

"I thought that once." Zerai snorted at the memory.

"We'd better move quickly, then." Yuan said as they picked up their pace.

.

And they had kept a fast pace, they were just a day's march out of the Flanoir area. Now, where they were supposed to go afterwards—that was a tricky question. Kratos could feel the mana in the region, but wherever the seal was still had to be fairly distant, because he couldn't pinpoint any specific flux. It would be death to wander aimlessly until they found it, but they didn't really have any other option save a risky visit into the snowy town.

They maintained their bearing towards Flanoir nonetheless—supplies were running low and game was scarce. The halflings would be able to slip in under the radar if there was no other way.

"What I wouldn't give to be back in Triet." Yuan muttered lowly to him, ice clinging to his hair and clumping along his cloak. Kratos could sympathize. It was cold, and the wind bit viciously into the fabrics that billowed around their figures. However, it didn't bother him as much as it would have before the Cruxis Crystal experiment. Gratefully, he assumed there was some margin of resistance. Yuan's occasionally violent shivers were enough to garner some pity from the stoic redhead.

"You don't deal well with cold." It was all statement and no question. They trudged on.

"I don't usually have to." The Sylvaranti quipped back, much louder than before.

Martel's laughter tinkled like bells.

"Where are you from, Yuan? Somewhere warm?" It should have been a harmless question.

"A small village not too far from Sybak, actually." He maintained composure after a short pause. Kratos exhaled slowly. Yuan had been smart to pick a city he had actually been to, yet distance himself from the specifics of the people there. Martel had made quite a few acquaintances there, no doubt, that she could have inquired about.

"Really? It does get quite stifling in the summer." And so the mundane conversation continued on without a hitch.

By the time Flanoir was in sight, they were dredging through a good few inches of snow, with tufts of puffy flakes drifting down like a blanket. Flanoir was to their left hand side, a speck of dark color on an otherwise blank palette. The land was completely level here, and through the hazy sheets of precipitation Kratos could see what looked like a plateau on the horizon—a solid white sheet against a greying sky.

"Is that the Northern Glacier?" Mithos inquired after a long bout of silence.

"It would appear so." Kratos answered, "No doubt the land beneath this snow has been scored deeply by its retreat." The coast was so far off that no ocean could have flattened the area.

"Maybe we should get closer." Yuan conjectured, "I feel more mana in that direction than should be present in such a lifeless tundra." It was another few hours walk before the wall of ice spread before them, craggy and pristine, and easily a hundred yards tall and radiating an even harsher cold. By now Mithos was tugging Martel by the hand along the perimeter, having a firm grip on the direction of the mana flux.

"It's much stronger this way." He mumbled as they trailed beside the white-faced cliff, eventually coming to a stop a ways down the line. Mithos looked confused. The blonde child spun in a slow circle.

"I don't get it." His face was flush with the cold, eyebrows scrunched up in thought. "The mana is the strongest here, but there's no entrance or dais or anything." Kratos hummed in agreement.

Martel's hand had come up to rest near her chin as she thought. Yuan was peering at the massive glacier as if looking for a hidden passage. And Zerai had seemed to have decided that walking away from the icy landmark was the best idea.

"How long ago was it made?" The Sylvaranti called over his shoulder.

"Was what made?" Mithos echoed, big blue eyes blinking as a short scowl slipped onto his face.

"Whatever it is you are looking for." He huffed, a puff of mist crystallizing in the frosty air as the snow continued to speckle his inky hair. Martel started.

"Ah, that's right." She smiled brilliantly and began to trot after the raven. "The Elves would have built any of these structures a couple hundred years ago."

"So why are we going back?" The halfling boy muttered as he followed his sister.

"This area would have been covered up by the glacier back then. Nothing would be built here, unless it was underground. Any entrance would have to be this way."

"Oh." He ruffled some ice out of his hair, "That's kind of cool."

"It wouldn't have moved very far, even over such a long period of time." Yuan interjected, "Maybe a hundred meters?" Kratos nodded as they trekked a short ways out, scanning the colorless expanse for any signs of an underground path.

"Over there." Kratos gestured to a set of low set square columns a ways to the side, white against white, and only a few feet tall, they would have been impossible to spot any further out. It was a simple landmark, he supposed, that you could only find if searching for it.

"Yea. Gnome says there's a tunnel over there." Mithos had a skip in his step as they approached it.

"He could have said something a bit sooner." Yuan griped sourly.

"For Mana's sake. Who the hell is Gnome?"

As usual, the Sylvaranti's question was ignored.

Their approach brought them to an innocuous patch of earth covered in snow, an area in which Yuan wasted no time blasting with a few simple fire balls. The snow hissed as it melted, wisps of smoke threading through the cool air as they all got a good look at what lay beneath it.

A flat, rectangular stone was lodged between the short pillars, now charred along the top. The damage was not so severe that the engravings of an elaborately dressed woman were disfigured. In fact, the clear, cold expression on the rocky countenance was austere and intelligent. They gently hoisted the finely crafted polycarbonate off the dank permafrost, revealing Mithos' aforementioned tunnel. It was an inky pit, carved steps trailing into the dark until they could not be seen. An even fiercer cold radiated out, and Kratos cast a sideways look at Zerai.

"You stay here."

It took a moment for the raven to realize that the statement was directed at him. His flashing grey eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me?" The Sylvaranti really had no right to sound so incredulous.

"You're a liability."

"And a tiny blonde kid isn't?" Mysan scoffed in reply.

This incited Mithos to open his mouth in instant argument, but Kratos continued on briskly.

"No, he isn't." Unfortunately, Mithos had dynamically shifted to now look unbearably smug, "And if you do follow us, I can almost guarantee that you would not be able to keep up." He paused for a moment, "In conversation or battle." He added as an afterthought.

And that sentence was bred more from truth than Kratos' dislike for the man. He had slowed considerably under the weight of travel, and it would definitely be in their favor if they could keep the Sylvaranti in the dark for a while longer. After a quite a bit of hesitation on the other's part, Mysan begrudgingly conceded.

"I'll stay if you tell me what you're expecting to find." He finally sighed. The beaming Mithos was already shaking his head in denial when Martel answered instead.

"There's an ancient architectural marvel down there." Her eyes sparkled a brilliant green, "We're looking for a couple of rare artifacts."

Zerai didn't buy it, by all appearances, but he remained firmly rooted in the snow with a scowl on his face as they descended. They had dipped several feet below, Kratos in the rear, when he heard the faint curse from the human still on the surface.

"Bullshit."

And the swordsman actually smiled.

.

There was little hesitation as their feet found the steps—everyone was already frozen to the bone. Yuan's faint sphere of light was the only warmth for miles, and he spent his mana sparingly.

Mithos still shivered violently in Kratos' slightly thicker jacket, his body trembling like a leaf. The human found himself frowning again, as their conditions became more and more intolerable. The boy wouldn't complain—he knew that—but it made him uneasy and above all, uncomfortable for having been the one that asked it of the child. Martel's hand curled protectively over the blonde's shoulder, though, steering him carefully down the steely grey stone staircase.

Kratos flexed his fingers. The temperature made the digits stiff and slow, and it kept him on edge. A battle would be difficult with everyone so worn down by the weather.

"He's not following us, is he?" The teal-haired halfling muttered with a glance tossed over his shoulder.

"Surprisingly, no." Kratos hummed in agreement, "I would be able to hear if he was."

"That's a relief."

"Undoubtedly."

At his affirmation, Yuan reassessed him for some reason. Perhaps it had been said too quickly, or with a touch more relief than it should have contained.

"I've been meaning to ask,"

Internally, Kratos groaned. Nothing good could come from that half-statement. Yuan took no notice of his furrowed brow.

"—you know him from somewhere, don't you? He recognized you in Meltokio, but he doesn't know who you are." Their feet continued to pad down the winding steps until they came upon a large chamber. The space opened up on either side though the ceiling remained low.

"It's complicated. And not relevant." Kratos deadpanned. Yuan quirked an eyebrow at him.

"There's not much about you I don't know." It was Kratos' turn to arch an eyebrow. "And when he's around, you won't have much opportunity to talk about it. We need to be on the same page." The swordsman didn't miss how avidly Mithos was following the conversation, or Martel's similarly curious expression.

The worst part was that there was some truth to Yuan's words. He couldn't let the halfling be blindsided by Zerai should something come up—should the other human figure out more than he was allowed to. However, keeping track of who knew what was getting tiring, and the Latheon Gorge incident was out of play with the elven siblings involved. As per usual, Kratos settled for a half-truth.

"We ran into one another while he was under the guise of a royal courier. He delivered news of the King's death when I was returning to Sybak." Kratos was unsure if Yuan visibly cringed, or simply shivered erratically.

"He was already in Meltokio before King Aurion passed away?" Now the Sylvaranti's question was guarded, if not slightly concerned, and tinted with a hefty amount of astonishment.

"Apparently so." was the curt reply.

Why that news struck Yuan so solidly, Kratos knew not, and he hoped to clarify.

"While we were marooned in the mines he told me he was a sleeper agent. He must have resided in the capital for quite some time." Still, Yuan appeared conflicted, and he shifted from foot to foot restlessly.

Eventually the pause had grown long enough for Kratos to doggedly put the matter out of mind and examine their surroundings properly.

The hall was pristine—preserved by the cold and as far as he could tell, devoid of monsters. It was peculiar for such a mana-rich region to have no signs of life, and the thought had his hand twitching towards his sword.

"You don't think…" Yuan had broken the quiet, dredging the conversation back up again to Kratos' unease. Auburn eyes shot back up to meet teal orbs, and all he could find was apology and horrified sympathy. Following the last train of thought, Kratos' nose crinkled in confusion. What was he hinting at? Why did he look so frightened? He was watching him as if he had been gravely injured, or perhaps was prone to spontaneously combust.

Then his blood froze.

It didn't seem possible for the temperature to drop further, but it had, and not due to the seal. Breath hitching once, Kratos hissed aloud.

"He couldn't have."

Was he trying to convince himself? Or had he distanced himself so far from the situation that he was missing glaringly obvious possibilities?

"I'm not saying he did." Yuan's quick retort was already trying to stifle and soften his reaction, "I'm saying he could have. There was motive."

"And opportunity." The words were bit out as the thought grew.

There was anger and distrust, and veritable hate pulling at his insides like fire kindled in an instant. He hadn't thought such rage was becoming of him, but it had lain dormant and smoldering for years on end. It had been directed at himself, and part of it still was, but now—

Now there might be more to it.

"What's going on?" Mithos had spoken, but Kratos didn't hear him over the blood pounding in his ears. "What did he do?" His hands clenched as he caught Yuan's next words.

"He—" The halfling was reluctant to say it.

"He may have killed Kratos' father."

Yuan found it painful to watch Kratos grapple with the idea. Despite his earlier declaration of knowing almost everything about the young human, Kratos' relationship with the King had always been cloudy. It was dangerous territory to tread in mundane conversations, and Yuan knew that merely the word 'father' had always stirred a sort of guilt-induced reaction in his friend.

However, he did know the Tethe'allan well enough to see that he had a one-track mind.

All these years, confronting the King's death had been put aside in favor of setting out to achieve the next goal. His ability to take things in stride and adapt to new scenarios, regardless of past grievances, was remarkable. It was something uniquely Kratos, and Yuan had always admired him for it.

But there was a chink in that impenetrable defense, in that single-minded focus, and the Sylvaranti had finally seen it exploited.

Kratos was vulnerable to the past.

He had never come to terms with it, had never let the harsher truths sink in to find a semblance of peace. Now, completely caught off guard, and brilliant mind twisted in a knot around mentally constructed barriers, Yuan caught a glimpse of true emotion flit across the other's face.

Shocked-furious-hurting-guilty-lost.

A moment more, and the focus came back to restore the chaos. Stony, stiff, resolute. The only productive emotion that had been tugged into the open still glinted in auburn irises, and Yuan slowly let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

It was a cold, calculating anger, filling the shell of the boy that barely looked fifteen when Yuan had first met him. Kratos had looked strikingly young with his guard down, and the return to his usual posture held an air of confidence and self-assurance the vulnerable version did not possess.

Yuan wasn't sure if what he was seeing reflected the interior, and he wouldn't have been able to say which version of Kratos he preferred. One was still mourning while the other looked frighteningly vengeful.

"How do we deal with this?" Martel's face was grave, countenance flickering in the sphere of light that had steadily grown brighter during the revelation. Unconsciously, everyone had turned to look at the redhead again.

"We continue on with the seal." Kratos tone could have been used in any conversation ever held for all the inflection it contained.

"Are you sure?" The risk of an unimaginably unstable Kratos had Yuan reeling a bit, and perhaps confronting this head on was the best approach. However, Kratos trained an intense, unreadable gaze upon him.

"We're already here, and I should have seen the possibility sooner. An hour or two won't make a difference."

Yuan followed the thought process behind that sentence carefully. It was deceivingly logical. However, he read it as an unresolved course of action. The Tethe'allan was still deciding what he wanted to do, and using the seal as a diversion would have to work for now.

"Fine, but we have to keep our heads on straight. Don't jump to conclusions just yet." Martel rubbed her hands together to keep the cold at bay, "As far as I know, and every other citizen, King Aurion died from illness."

"Both poison and asphyxiation would look as much on a man that was in his condition." Yuan noted grimly. Anything that didn't leave bruises would naturally lead the doctors to assume the royal's ailing body had finally given in.

Kratos stoically remained silent throughout this elaboration, but Yuan could see his white-knuckled grip on his sword. He would have given an assurance, but in this state, Kratos would brush it off as pity and respond heatedly. He bit back comforting words at the same moment Mithos took a step forward and pulled on the redhead's sleeve.

"It'll be okay. We're going to figure it out." The blonde halfling instructed, much to the Sylvaranti's bewilderment. This child was assuring Kratos. Kratos. However, instead storming off with an indignant denial that any reassurance was needed, the human's eyes lost some of their angry glow, and the corners of his mouth twitched up.

It wasn't quite a smile, but it was less of a scowl.

His hand ruffled blonde locks fondly before he started walking ahead to investigate the far end of the hall. Mithos' bright eyes were smiling as he trotted after the swordsman and Yuan wasn't sure what he'd just seen. Martel still stood beside him, so he quietly voiced his thoughts.

"If I had said that, he would've bitten my head off."

.

Martel looked thoughtful (and when did she not?) before speaking.

"I think he's got a soft spot for Mithos. He feels guilty for dragging us into this." And as soon as she said it, Yuan knew it was true.

Kratos never seemed to be a kid-person, in fact, he was inept when it came to dealing with them. But looking at the pair, Yuan was noticing the smaller things. Something different flashed in Kratos' generally steely eyes. The swordsman's jacket was strewn across narrow shoulders in spite of biting cold. Yuan knew something had shifted over all this time. Kratos was no longer pushing the boy away.

Why had it taken a moment of weakness for Yuan to see it?

Admitting to himself that it was definitely for the better, Yuan followed the two to where they stood examining the carvings on the wall. A smile had no trouble finding its way to his face, and he cast a lingering look over the man once more before glancing upon the stone.

Sharply cut words were engraved over fluidly arched designs. There were four separate sections, divided by scalloped pillars, and Yuan squinted to make out the blots of language above each.

They read:

`She can run forever without tiring or loitering, destroyer of the last yet both child and mother of the third.`

`Bites without teeth and sings with no voice—those you cannot see, but can trace should you please.`

`Sailor's bane, tooth of the ocean's maw: she can still all.`

`Conqueror of thy neighbor, and friend of the traveler.`

Quiet took over as everyone read the four inscriptions. It wasn't long before Martel spoke up.

.

"They're riddles."

(A/N): Can you guys solve them XP? Yes, I'm changing the structure of a few seals. I like to think that the fancy dais system was only built for the World Regeneration journey by Cruxis, and the only people that may have been to these Summon Spirit locations prior would be ancient elves.

Anyways, thanks for reading!