Awakening, Andrey got up from the comfortable, almost cushiony snow, stretching his arms and dusting himself off. That had been relaxing. He supposed he could try to sleep more often – except perhaps without overusing his Arts next time.
Looking to Frostnova, he checked for any traces of corruption on her. Not a trace of the shadow. He had been successful, it seemed.
Returning to her side, he reentered reality.
He was faced with a blank wall of darkness; she was still sleeping. Casting a wave of probing Arts, he checked their surroundings. Patriot was still in his tent, the two of them alone in the forest.
What time was it? He almost made to ask Frostnova, before deciding not to bother her sleep. After casting her Arts so many times, she needed rest. Instead, he searched with his Arts again; if there were any animals nearby, he could potentially see through their eyes at the sun.
Just a blank slate of corrupted plants, the area empty of any semi-intelligent life aside from Frostnova and Patriot.
What use were his Arts if he couldn't even check the time?
The tent was almost fully closed, too – no daylight or moonlight. Andrey concentrated on Frostnova's hearing for a moment, hearing the constant rustle of winds and snow striking the fabric; the blizzard was still raging outside, and Andrey was thankful Frostnova had pitched her tent well.
It was likely close to night, considering he had passed out around midday. Frostnova hadn't eaten lunch – Andrey noted that he would need to remind her to eat, though he supposed her stomach and Patriot would do that for him. She seemed so peaceful in sleep, simply forgetting all the worries that would plague her when she woke, and Andrey found himself wishing this moment would last longer.
Alas, the world always caught up to them. Slowly, Frostnova sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her arms, before straightening her coat and peeking out the tent. The snow was slowly darkening under the setting sun, the blizzard morphing into a gray maelstrom.
"It's night already," Frostnova noted. "How long did I sleep for?"
"A few hours."
"Contact Patriot, then. Taking guard shifts would be difficult in this weather."
"And if he ejects me out of his mind immediately?"
"He won't." Frostnova turned towards the direction of Patriot's tent, making a shooing gesture. "Come on, go."
"Got it." Channeling his Arts through her wand, Andrey connected his mind to Patriot's. "Patriot?"
"Andrey. What is it?" The Wendigo was surprisingly amiable today.
"Frostnova wishes to ask about shifts."
"Tell her that they are no longer necessary. Enemy attacks are nigh-impossible in this weather. And use your Arts to allow her to speak," Patriot said, pausing. "Perhaps you are of some use after all."
Andrey smiled at that, before joining Frostnova to them. "Your father's decided that shifts are not necessary today."
"Mhm. Is there anything else you intend to say, Father?"
"Your footsteps were outside the tent, during noon," Patriot questioned.
"Ah." Frostnova paused for a long moment, as if considering what to say. "I… the corruption may have had an effect on me."
"Perhaps I underestimated the corruption… it has been a long time since I last came here. I will take the necessary measures."
A long pause, and then a chant, like a thousand voices coalescing into one. A wave of red swept through the tent, and Frostnova looked out, finding a red bubble glowing with energy.
"The ritual is complete," Patriot simply said. "Corruption… it will be drawn here, to break against these walls."
"More wolves?"
"When the snow clears, do not be surprised to see all manner of corrupted creatures rushing to tear us apart."
"Understood, Father."
"Rest. The blizzard protects us, for the time being. Andrey, stop your Arts." And just like that, Patriot's voice went quiet, Andrey soon deactivating his Arts.
"Maintaining these Arts is difficult," Andrey commented, feeling the strain on his mind disappear as his Arts faded. "I likely will not be capable of using offensive Arts while keeping communication."
"Mhm. Corruption is resilient to your Arts, so offensive Arts are not needed. Just keep me connected to Patriot."
"Got it."
Frostnova found it difficult to sleep, simply staring restlessly at her tent, the white fabric featureless in the dark. While falling unconscious was hardly the best rest, it still proved sufficient to convince her body that it no longer needed sleep.
"Can't sleep?" Andrey asked after a period of time.
"Falling unconscious meant I rested, for a period." Frostnova sighed, hands gliding along the fabric. "Now I can't sleep."
"Just wait, for a few hours."
"Mhm." Frostnova picked a loose thread off the walls of the tent, hands playing with it for a few moments before casting it away. "Easier said than done."
"Find something to occupy yourself with, maybe?" Andrey suggested.
"Read your Codex to me, again. You failed to mention your Arts when you last did so."
Andrey paused for what felt like an eternity, Frostnova almost able to feel him pacing, as if he were right next to her. Finally, he spoke:
"I'm not sure that would be the best idea."
"And why not?" Frostnova pressed. She needed information anyways, so she supposed she could spend this time gathering some more.
"There are some… worrying Arts, within the Codex."
"I am incapable of using them. What do you fear?" It almost felt as if Andrey were hiding something from her not for her safety, but for his.
The silence was telling. "You think I'll see you as a monster?"
"…maybe."
"Under every system Terra has to offer, I would be considered a monster, or a murderer, or a killer. I've long passed the point of caring." While the words were callous, Frostnova hoped they could provide Andrey some modicum of comfort.
Again, he waited, before choosing to begin. "I'll go through a basic description first, then. Keep in mind that I have not written it. I've simply found it in the book."
"Go ahead."
"As you know, I have utilized multiple standard Arts in the past, such as direct mental attacks, or spying via siphoning others' senses. While these are reportedly –" and there he was, droning on again. "– developed to a 'high degree' of sophistication, they are relatively easy to cast, and I am capable of casting them multiple times during a single instance of combat.
These Arts are limited to individual targets, and therefore ineffective in large-scale combat, though they are effective for espionage. Therefore, Arts from His Majesty have been studied to improve capabilities in facing massed forces in our line of duty. While often creating a significant morale risk for allied forces, these Arts' effectiveness is undeniable."
Andrey paused for a moment, at that. "It seems that I originally served a king, of some sort, as a combatant or operative."
Frostnova nodded, though she knew Andrey could not see it. "That matches our earlier knowledge. Continue."
"Most prominent among these are Originium-manipulation Arts, often used by His Majesty himself. Against Infected targets without Arts abilities or protection, these Arts can accelerate Oripathy to utilize Infected as Arts extensions. If controlled effectively, Infected can even be used as powerful explosives." Andrey stopped there, waiting for Frostnova's response.
Frostnova simply stayed silent, before eventually uttering a single, strained word. "Continue."
While she could understand the potential of these Arts, she would never make her Yetis act as living bombs. She could think of a few Yetis who would be willing – the late Korva came to mind – but she simply would not bear that burden.
"Against non-Infected commanders, manipulation can be utilized to create Oripathic shock. While incapable of causing long-term Oripathy given proper treatment, targeted hostiles will consume additional medical supplies.
However, a common w –" Andrey suddenly cut off, as if stopped by an unseen force.
"Ah, the Arts Codex. I can't let you have that." Suddenly, Frostnova felt a flare of pain throughout her body, as if something had been forcibly torn away from her. Just as quickly as it arrived, however, it disappeared, leaving only a dull ache.
Thoughts confused and jumbled, Frostnova attempted to recall the message she had just read, only to find it a blur in her mind.
Only scattered words made it through what seemed like a mental blockade – something about "Arts," perhaps.
Gazing at the pages of his Codex, burning with bright red fire, Andrey gingerly placed the book – or at least what remained of it – back on the ground. Whatever Arts his past self had used were advanced enough to not only rip apart a third of his Codex, but also block his memories of that third too.
Quickly, he contacted Frostnova again. "Have your memories been blocked too?"
"Yes." Frostnova simply replied.
Andrey let out a frustrated groan. "The Arts section is gone. I can only rely on instinct to cast my Arts, now. Their Arts are far too powerful."
"Why did the voice wait so long?" Frostnova asked. "The contents of that Codex were… likely dangerous far before they were blocked."
"They are using their Arts very rarely. Perhaps…" Andrey thought for a long period, before coming to a conclusion. "They're awakened only by certain triggers?"
"Then we have to avoid those triggers. If he disables your Arts fully, we lose much of our scouting ability."
"I'm starting to hope Patriot can lock me into the altar faster." Andrey commented.
"You still need to get out."
"It would be less dangerous for you if I do not." Andrey countered.
"Now you sound like Patriot," Frostnova groused. "Avoid reading any important parts of your Codex until we can remove this voice, then."
"Understood."
A perhaps unintentioned side effect of the voice's Arts were that they made Frostnova very sleepy – which she exploited to its fullest, head simply falling onto the pillow as she fell asleep.
It was almost midday by the time Andrey woke her with a few quiet words, and soon she was looking out the tent again, wand kept ready. The blizzard had almost dissipated by then, Patriot's shield of Arts coming into clear focus – the Wendigo himself standing next to his halberd, watching the trees around them.
Already, she could see the corruption creeping away from the shield, tendrils of black snow slowly receding on the ground. The empty flowers were beginning to wither and die, as they should have long ago – petals scrunching up like paper and slowly burning with shadowed red.
"Andrey, check with your Arts." Frostnova commanded, joining Patriot in his quiet vigil.
"A moment." Two weak pulses of Arts traveled through her wand, suddenly stopping midway, before a powerful wave of Arts erupted from it – perhaps too powerful, the snow and trees beginning to glow a faint, pulsing red. "It's far harder without instructions."
Already, the voice's influence was beginning to take its toll.
Finally, he reported back. "A few dozen corrupted animals and humans, closing in."
Humans? Frostnova braced for combat; this would be far from an easy battle, even with Patriot alongside her.
AN: This was an exposition chapter, mostly. I'm not quite satisfied with some of the rhythm of the earlier sections – not sure how to fix them, though. Next chapter will mostly be action instead. On a different note, I'm running out of ways to describe past Andrey. Suggestions would be appreciated, and thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites so far!