Night fell quickly as they walked across the wilderness. Seeing nothing of particular note happening, Andrey retreated into Frostnova's mindscape.
Soundlessly, the red orb returned to him, orbiting around him as he walked. He felt within himself, a constellation of vague possibilities in his mind – instincts long forgotten returning to him.
The red light waxed and waned, bathing the ice in pulsing, vibrant red. Andrey picked up the Codex; its familiar weight seemingly growing heavier. The Codex and the red orb now spinning around him were convenient aids, he supposed. Missing components, sequestered into a useful illusion.
He opened the pages, quickly finding the additions to the already-extensive book. A hundred new pages. Arts.
There it was, on the first page – the Arts he had used to execute the swordsmen.
"Single target," he read. "Huh."
They were surprisingly disappointing, to be frank. Any amount of Arts resistance could act as protection against them, so attacking Casters was out of the question. And the limit to attacking individual targets meant that they were worthless against the groups Frostnova often faced.
Perhaps if he could break that limit like he previously did. But he wasn't risking it again, not with the risks of playing with something he failed to truly understand.
He turned the page. Partial mind-reading. A worrying skill to have, if useful. This book never failed to surprise him. Perhaps not in the best of ways, but he would admit that it could be useful.
Could. He had some serious considerations to make before he did anything. Quickly, he skimmed through the remaining pages. He didn't like what he saw.
Frostnova stared at the small campfire, watching Patriot's unmoving form across from the flames.
Patriot's hasty departure meant many things, and none of them were good. It was a rare occurrence for such an urgent note to find its way into his normally emotionless, guttural tone, whether it was in a telepathic or normal conversation. And the Guerillas and Yetis… she would admit that she was worried about them.
It wasn't that she didn't trust Skar or any of the other squad leaders to do their job. Most of them were experienced Shieldguards, more than capable of leading even an entire regiment if necessary. But danger lurked around every snow-white corner in the tundra, and without any ability to protect her Yetis and the Guerillas, worry quickly clouded her mind.
For a moment, she almost considered talking to Patriot about it. Maybe that would assuage their worries. But she soon squashed the thought; she'd rather not bother him over something so trivial. She was his daughter, sure, but she was also his soldier. And soldiers didn't complain over such matters.
The night had fallen, static sky like a shadowed painting covering the world. Frostnova spared a look at the empty darkness, before turning her gaze back to the earth. There was nothing to see there. They would have to take shifts, as they lacked the manpower for dedicated scouts. She looked towards Patriot again.
"Father?"
"Continue."
"May I take first shift?"
"Yes."
And just like that, Patriot departed to his tent, the large, haphazard patches of grey cloth a sharp contrast with the pure, elegant white of the snow beside it – almost as if an elephant had wandered into a blank canvas.
Frostnova stayed unmoving, gaze sweeping over the tundra. She could, in theory, let Andrey do the job for both of them. After all, he didn't need sleep. But Patriot didn't trust him, and she would rather do it herself rather than rely on anybody else, even if she had quickly grown to trust Andrey.
And perhaps something a bit more then trust, she thought. For a moment, she recalled that moment a few days ago, a light blush forming on her face…
She gazed towards Patriot's tent, making sure he wasn't peeking out. Nothing. Patriot could draw some very concerning conclusions if he saw her randomly blushing.
She wasn't sure if those conclusions were… wrong, though. She'd rather not think about it too much.
Quickly, she turned away from the tent, as if to hide her face from Patriot's gaze. One could never be too sure.
Andrey gazed through Frostnova's eyes at the camp, watching as she surveyed the distance. They felt so alone, just two tents piled up on the snow, as if they could be blown away by the slightest wind.
Sure, Andrey trusted Frostnova, and by extent Patriot. But his instincts felt danger nonetheless, even though there was none.
An infinitude of peaceful moments passed, Frostnova simply staring at the empty sky and the roaring flames, their camp a small oasis of light in the shadowed tundra.
Patriot emerged from the tent a few hours later, taking his position next to the fire. With nothing but a simple nod, Frostnova went to her tent.
Andrey returned to her mindscape, giving her some privacy. He was tired. Something in his mind told him that he needed sleep, yet he did not.
Andrey touched a flat surface of ice, hand brushing alongside, as if to feel any sensation. Just a numb cold, and a slight tingling. Perhaps Frostnova was right; dulled senses made for better decisions. But without his senses, what was he? Just an information processor?
Floating within the spires of ice that protected her, Frostnova's eyes scrunched up in an expression of apparent discomfort.
Suddenly, the ice began to warp and distort, black shadows emerging from within the darkening crystals. Almost as if breaking free from hidden chains, they surged out – floating dangerously in the air.
"Frostnova?" No response.
Andrey rushed to her side and entered reality. There was not a moment to spare if Frostnova was in danger.
Frostnova raised her wand, firing a burst of ice – clipping an Army swordsman in the shoulder, sending him flying back.
His body hit the ground with a solid thunk.
Andrey watched from a hill above, the dueling forms of the Yetis and Army almost seeming like blurs; only Frostnova and her opponent in focus, as if the world's gaze was only on her.
"Forwards!" She called, dodging past a slashing blade, turning forwards, towards the last few swordsmen of the Army in the left flank. A paltry dozen Yetis followed her, swords held at the ready.
They were so close…
A volley of bolts flew through the skies, striking down three unfortunate Yetis. Unarmored, unprotected, they were simply trampled under the weight of the Army now in pursuit.
Red miasma coalesced besides Andrey, a form slowly stepping out – the world slowly drawing into focus around him, the blurred and misshapen hill around them slowly turning into an acceptable facsimile of reality.
Andrey turned, finding himself face-to-face with something he could only recognize as himself. A seemingly young brown-haired Caprinae, scarred by war, stared back at him. A scar ran across his arm, stretching from his shoulder to his hand. Focusing, Andrey could spot another series of scars across his body. Tainted, broken – but powerful.
Was this his past?
Frostnova casted a wave of Arts, freezing the swordsmen in front of her – opening up a path for the Yetis, at last. She took a step forwards, and keeled over, the world blurring around her.
The world shook for a moment as it blurred and then regained its focus, yet the man remained unfazed – staying perfectly still, not a single move as he placidly looked towards Andrey.
She outstretched an arm, picking herself up, running forwards at full speed. Leaping forwards, she turned and sent another burst of Arts back towards the Army, the last few Casters with her doing the same.
Two swordsmen fell; there were more where that came from. And they were catching up.
In the distance, Andrey could see the events in exquisite detail, far more then he should have been able to; another product of this false reality.
"What did you do?" He turned to himself.
"I made her see the past, again." He smiled, an even smile curated across hundreds of years. "Denying it is useless."
"That she failed?"
"That she always will." A wave of his hand, and the world warped and changed, the familiar valley of stone returning – the two standing in a cave, far above the battle.
"Why did you allow me… into this torture?"
The Yetis, decimated by the swordsmen, fighting back but simply not enough. Retreating, then holding the line.
Arts and crossbow bolts fell towards the Army, and Frostnova felt a minisicule burst of satisfaction, quickly replaced by the eternal vigilance she had to maintain.
"I must admit… that was an oversight." The man watched as Frostnova descended from the caves above, almost as if he was watching a film. "But you must understand that you cannot defeat me, not when I finally regain everything."
So this was the voice that had tormented him since his rebirth. Andrey looked the man into the eyes, and spoke:
"And why not?"
He smiled again. "You are barely a week old. And even the plethora of knowledge you have stolen from me cannot defeat hundreds of years of experience."
"Who are you?" Andrey simply asked, mind still focused on the scene of death and destruction infinitely repeating below them.
"A servant." The man disappeared again, red miasma dissipating with him as he left.
Below the cave, Frostnova's form changed for a moment, and suddenly the world was lucid and clear.
She gazed at the man above her, watching over the Yetis.
"Andrey?"
AN: I've got a lot of random things to talk about. Feel free to skip this.
First of all, upon checking Lone Trail's lore again, the stars… apparently aren't visible? Also, there are two moons. That's forced a few retcons out of me. Nothing significant, just some slight tweaks to wording to accommodate.
Second, I also read through IS#4's lore because it's related to the far north. That stuff is important for the plot of this story, so some of it will be included.
Third, responding to one of the reviews, Andrey's Arts do seem rather overpowered. That's been changed this chapter, sort of. It is a rather abrupt change, but I'd rather do that then retcon something unnecessarily.
Fourth, planning for the story is mostly complete. This story should be slightly more than 100k words on completion, and that will likely take anywhere between 4 to 9 more months, after which I will spend another month or sweeping through again and editing for mistakes.
Fifth, sorry for not outright describing Andrey and the other characters at the beginning of this fic. I should probably have done that, and now everybody probably has an impression of him that conflicts with the description of him (or at least past him) in this chapter.
Anyways, thanks to all the readers and reviewers so far! Feel free to leave reviews if you have anything to say!