As the bolt whizzed towards her face, Frostnova leaped out of the way, avoiding the deadly projectile and returning fire with a blast of ice.
The Arts caught a soldier in the shoulder, and as they staggered back, their crossbow dropped from their hands and to the ground below.
The Yeti crossbowmen left remaining fired a trio of bolts at the soldiers, pinning them behind the stone as the soldiers were forced to dodge.
The return fire went wide, bolts impacting the snow harmlessly; the soldiers obviously inexperienced with the Yetis' inferior crossbows. A soldier fumbled with their crossbow, trying to reload; a blast of ice and he fell from the ledge he was standing on.
"They've lost three crossbows. Likely, they will attack directly now." Andrey reported.
Sure enough, after another fruitless exchange, and after the death of another soldier, their leader let out an incoherent cry of rage, leaping from his position and jumping towards the Yetis.
Calmly regarding the soldier descending towards her, Frostnova raised a wave of ice spikes to protect her Yetis, before with another blast of Arts she shot down the soldier as they fell.
Two unfortunate soldiers died on impact to her spikes of ice, leaving the Yetis with a seeming advantage over the last Army soldiers.
"Five to ten." Andrey reported again.
A scream, quickly silenced. Five to nine. Frostnova raised her wand, and fired a quick burst – staggering a swordsman, allowing Petrova to finish them off. Four to nine.
The snapping of bone against the rocks. Four to eight. Petrova dodged a thursting sword, counterattacking and leaving an opening for another Yeti to rush in and jam their sword through another soldier's ribcage. Three to eight.
"Left!" Andrey suddenly warned, and Frostnova snapped to the left, only to barely block a strike with her wand; the Originium-laced steel breaking in half from the blow.
"Hmph. Now what, Caster?" Her assailant, the commander of the now-trio of Army troops, raised his heavy sword once more, striking out again. Frostnova recoiled back, the tip of the sword barely missing her.
Unarmed now, Frostnova simply raised her hands, ice gathering around her palms – and a torrent of Arts speeding towards the commander.
For a moment, he stepped back; and then he was hidden in the mist.
His sword broke through first, sheathed in melting ice and electric yellow Arts. And as his body followed next, a formless lash broke free from the tip of his blade – striking out at Frostnova.
In desperation, she fired the last of her Arts at him; a blade of ice sneaking through his defenses and piercing his chest; yet it was too late for her.
Impossibly fast, the yellow energies rushed forwards.
The lash struck her in the stomach; her body reeling back for a moment, trying to adjust as searing pain spread through her body.
Futilely, she extended a hand as the agony took over her mind; down on one leg, arm outstretched in an attempt to catch herself.
Slowly, black crept through her vision, and she collapsed to the snowy ground.
All Andrey could do was watch in despair, looking on – dimly regarding the slight pain he felt – a mere fraction of the true impact.
"Insufficient."A flash of red, and he was pulled into empty darkness, red creeping into his vision as he fell, unbalanced.
In that moment, he saw. He saw through the eyes of the Yetis, surrounding the swordsmen.
He saw through the eyes of the soldiers of Ursus, fighting for their "glory" and "motherland" – and almost imperceptibly, he grasped some element of them.
Twin strands of red stretched between his palms, and with naught but a glance at them, he tore them apart.
Another wave of red covered his vision, and he collapsed to the empty ground.
"Learn, Andrey. Learn, and I awaken."
Frostnova groaned, feeling her back against coarse fabric. Her eyes fluttered open for a split second, seeing Petrova kneeling next to her, face set against the white fabric of the tent.
"Time?" She weakly tried to get up; a pulse of agony coming from throughout her body sending her back down against the fabric.
"Few hours. Just sleep." Petrova reassured, a small smile on his face. "Give it some time. You were hit by some Arts."
She was asleep before he even finished his sentence, tiredness overtaking her once more.
The next time she awoke, Petrova was gone, quiet footsteps around the outside of the tent the only indicator of the Yetis' presence.
Frostnova sat up, sore body complaining but finally moving. Quickly, she took stock of her surroundings; she was in the command tent, light streaming through the half-opened door flaps – the occasional Yeti passing by.
"Andrey? Any casualties after I feel unconscious?" A long moment passed, and Frostnova could almost feel Andrey searching his knowledge and memories, counting, calculating…
No response.
She sighed. Quietly, she began counting the numbers in her mind. Two swordsmen against eight Yetis… they would have lost two, maybe three.
She was getting overly reliant on him anyways, she supposed.
"Five or six Yetis left." She commented.
For a moment, she almost expected Andrey to suddenly add something, or offer any useful information.
No response.
Now this was truly worrying. Andrey would have usually responded by now, if not far before then.
"Andrey?"
A painfully long moment passed, Frostnova slowly standing up as she waited.
No response.
Perhaps he was truly gone. The events of the past week almost felt like a dream, so many things blending together into an unfamiliar mess. His voice… was it ever real? Or was it just a hallucination?
She wasn't so sure now.
She took a quick step, intent on walking out the tent, to checking on the remaining Yetis – and a wave of crippling pain overtook her, and she sank to her knees.
Slowly, arduously, she picked herself up from the cold dirt of the tent floor, and taking small steps, shuffled out of the tent. She was aware that she looked weak, but perhaps that was the truth. That blow had taken more out of her then she had expected.
"Slept well, Sister?" Petrova was back to his usual self, a bright smile on his face. Yet somewhere behind that smile lay vengeance and anger now. Frostnova had seen him like this before.
"Mhm." Turning her head, Frostnova looked to the valley, snow and ice still stained blood-red. "Casualties?"
"Counting you and me, there's eight Yetis left." Petrova noted, voice almost even.
"Understood." Frostnova tiredly replied, still looking at the battlefield. "Deaths after I fell unconscious?"
"None!" And now some true happiness showed itself. "The swordsmen just… fell down and died, after a few moments. Your Arts?"
Not hers, but she had a solid guess at who had casted them. "Maybe."
Fortunately for her, Petrova didn't press further, instead turning the subject to another matter. "We've got enough supplies for a year now, Sister."
A pitiful silver lining to this scene of death. Frostnova closed her eyes for a moment, remembering all the Yetis she had fought alongside just a day ago – their faces imprinting on her mind. Another failure, clothed in "victory".
"Guerilla scouts?" She asked.
"They came over a few hours ago, asked for where you were." Petrova pointed towards a few tents set up at the fringe of the small Yeti encampment. "They're there now."
Frostnova turned to walk over to the tents, only to be stopped by Petrova's hand.
"You can barely walk. I'll call them over." Petrova said, before running off.
Frostnova was left there, alone. Quietly, she picked up a handful of snow, watching it stay in her hands.
The flakes leaked through her hands, the weak breeze coming through the valley blowing it away. Like the Yetis, nothing she grasped could stay.
Just eight now. Eight.
Again, he woke up in an empty void, surrounded at all sides by inky darkness.
Everywhere and nowhere, scattered and whole, broken and complete. His mind slowly pulled itself back together, slivers of red flying back towards him, puzzle pieces arranging themselves in his soul.
He pulled himself up, walking towards the nova of light where he knew Frostnova lay.
The past week felt like a dream, the events so strange yet so real. It had happened, he was sure of it; yet now he was back here, only the memories he had to remind him.
He was still incomplete. He could feel it. And as he completed himself, so did the other him.
A string of red danced around him, slowly melting away and returning the last of what he knew to him. More were out there, calling to him; kept locked away by the awakening demon that was once him.
Striding forwards, he reached the ice in what felt like mere moments, expertly traversing the even white landscape that he now knew so well.
His Codex lay beside Frostnova's sleeping form; both still so pristine, so innocent. But beside it lay another gift. A small red sun, hovering above the flat snow.
As he approached, it flew towards him, coming to rest in his hands. A star, just for him, in the world of another.
He willed it to stay, and it slowly glided down to the ground, back to where it originally was.
Beautiful, pure red, just like the pure white-blue of the sun above him.
He walked over to Frostnova's sleeping form, lightly tapping her shoulder.
The familiar brightness of reality returned to him.
Frostnova looked back towards the Yeti convoy, ready to depart.
She was staying at the back of the group, much to her dismay. At her insistence, she would still be walking like the other Yetis, yet this time Petrova and the other Yetis had collectively forced her to stay behind the others, away from harm.
"Hello?" Just like when it all started.
"Welcome back." For the first time in years, true joy danced in her heart, and a beautiful smile split her face.
Together, they continued forwards.
AN: Arc 1 done! Yay, I get to wax poetic again. As always, leave a review if you've got something to say. Thanks for the reviews so far!