Andrey was getting tired, he'd admit. Nobody to talk to… well he supposed there were people to talk to. He was just afraid to make contact. He entertained the idea of perhaps attempting to hide his exact location, perhaps bouncing it off an Originium crystal off to the distance – that would conceal his location from Fredrich.
Well, he wasn't against the idea. Then again, there were no sufficiently powerful Originium crystals nearby – far from it, in this barren wasteland – and his Arts were no exact science.
He'd have to wait. Stupid waiting… really, his life was just waiting now. Waiting for Frostnova to get somewhere, waiting for others to make a decision, waiting…
This chair was quite comfortable, he realized. He had willed it into existence for comfort, after all…
Why not wait a few more minutes? It wasn't as if anything important was going to happen.
A few blurry glints of light touched Frostnova's eyes.
"Beautiful…" Frostnova thought, opening her eyes to see the sight clearer.
In the distance, a small cluster of lit-up tents laid, surrounding a flickering orange light, half-masked by some contraption.
A camp!
"Interesting." She could check it later. For now, her body felt like a sack of bricks, weighing her soul down…
No, she needed to investigate. The camp… it was important, right?
Her thoughts felt frozen, just as her body was.
Wrenching herself off the ground, Frostnova dusted herself off of snow – before a gust of snow-laden wind almost knocked her down again. Catching herself with her arms, she stood up again with a groan of effort.
"Hm." Her shield crackled to life around her, and then she was upright again. Yet her Arts only worsened her shivering, another wave of heat draining from her body.
Alongside the cold came a sudden wave of stiffness, but she would make it. Nothing she couldn't handle.
One step, her right leg jerking forwards awkwardly. Then another swaying step forwards, as Frostnova tried to pick up her wand and ready it in hand.
Her fingers felt numb and refused to respond to her commands; no matter, she could go without the wand. It wasn't as if her Oripathy was particularly important.
Staggering step after staggering step, she brought herself forwards.
And then her feet touched thin air.
With a loud thump, she fell to the ground. She pushed herself up again… the ground was getting flatter, wasn't it?
Good.
Another blurred shape appeared in the distance – another camp? She turned to face it, and it flickered and disappeared again.
Strange… she resumed her slow steps forwards. Her shivering had largely stopped, replaced by an all-consuming sense of cold around her.
It felt normal, somehow.
A small piece of snow bounced off her face. Absentmindedly, she reactivated her shield.
Triggering her Arts, she pulled a few shards of ice out of thin air, raising them above her.
Fifty steps, then forty…
Thirty…
Twenty…
Ten…
And then the warmth of the fire hit her like an explosion, and Frostnova recoiled back.
No, she needed the cold… somehow. Her thoughts were getting muddled, and she shook her head in an attempt to clear them.
The temperature within the tent dropped slightly, and Levina pulled her coat tighter around herself. Sitting cross-legged in the center of the tent, she stared emptily at the entrance – idly twirling her knife around her fingers as she waited.
She couldn't sleep.
Never really could, with all the loud noises around her – it felt like there were threats everywhere.
Temperatures had long since dropped below zero, but it felt like they were lowering further. Had their fire gone out?
She crawled to the entrance to the tent, taking a peek outward.
Their fire was wavering… As she stood up to pour some additional fuel, she noticed a vague figure standing at the edge of their camp, looking to the side.
She rubbed her eyes. Nope, still there.
Drawing her dagger, she slowly advanced towards the figure.
As she approached, the snow abated somewhat, allowing her to get a good look at the girl; a white-haired Cautus.
Why hadn't she reacted?
"Hello?" She called, hand gripping the hilt of her dagger.
The girl turned, palm outstretched – and it took one moment too long for Levina to realize it was an orb of Arts.
The next moment, her arm stopped responding to her commands, frozen in place around her dagger.
"Disabling attack…" She noted, looking down at the thick layer of ice now locking her hands in place.
No choice but to parley. "I do not intend to harm you."
"Where is he?"
Who?
Bored, Andrey absently fired off a wave of Arts. Minor aberrations in the otherwise empty mindscape told him of one presence, two, three, four… five?
Five… He tried again, Arts pulse stronger this time. Five indeed.
He sent a probe into the mind of the newcomer – and a familiar sense of cold grasped him.
"Frostnova?"
Abandoning all pretense of stealth, he stretched out his Arts towards the minds of those around him.
Ben… sitting there in his tent, reading a book.
Anne… huh, she was with Ben.
Fredrich… He was sitting there, Arts still casting a prickly field around him. As Andrey connected his mind to Fredrich's, the man's head tilted slightly – in confusion?
And Levina… A glimpse was enough for Andrey to pull all of his focus towards her.
Frostnova's left hand was raised, slowly encasing her within a block of ice.
Andrey couldn't help but notice how tired she looked, her entire body drooping slightly, swaying in the wind.
Levina had apparently stopped struggling, simply looking at Frostnova through her mask; a multitude of blue threads silently stretching out from her dagger.
"They'll be warned… perhaps Fredrich may die trying to stop her, but Anne and Ben can escape." Andrey felt her think, his mind still unable to catch up to reality.
But inevitably, it did.
"Frostnova!" The Arts-powered scream shattered Frostnova's already-weak mental barriers, and she staggered back for a moment – before standing up again, killing intent blazing in her eyes.
Another pulse of Arts, yet it still failed to stop her – Frostnova blinking as if from confusion before resuming her attack.
"Stop, please!"
Andrey?
No… what had she done wrong?
She didn't understand, the world frozen in time.
But she had no time to think.
The moment of weakness was enough for red Arts to consume her vision.
"Sorry…"She struggled out, before she fell to the ground.
And just like that, she collapsed; her body giving way in one fell swoop.
Andrey breathed a sigh of relief as the ice around Levina shattered into a million shards, the razor-sharp edges stabbing into her outer coat but doing little else.
"Huh." Levina took a few deep breaths, before slowly approaching Frostnova's form. For a moment, she raised her dagger, and Andrey readied his Arts once more.
Then she sheathed the dagger again, as she kneeled down beside Frostnova. "No, not now…"
Levina extended a hand, brushing it across Frostnova's face. "Innocent…"
"What happened?" Ben walked up behind her, Anne following closely behind.
"Later." Levina responded. "She has severe hypothermia; she needs to be closer to the fire."
Andrey passively watched as they raised Frostnova's still form, unable to help.
Asleep, it almost felt like she was the same as when Andrey had last seen her. Still that same placid visage, eyes closed peacefully. Her hair rustled in the wind as she moved, the tattered coat on her shoulders a bit worse for wear, but still holding together.
Still, he could see the signs of wear on her… faint bags under her eyes, her weakening Arts…
Through Levina's eyes, he saw Fredrich standing at the entrance to his tent, watching as they passed.
"We can put her in my tent." Anne noted. "It isn't being used much anyways."
"Mhm." At Levina's signal, the three changed course, soon placing gently placing Frostnova down within Anne's tent.
As Ben and Anne left, Levina gently tucked Frostnova in, before leaving too – closing the flaps of the tent behind her as she left.
"I know you are listening." The message intruded into Andrey's thoughts – unmistakably his own Arts.
Had he failed to kill off his alter ego? No, these were long-range Arts. No point in using them if you inhabited the same crystal. But what if it was some form of misdirection?
Perhaps he could get this individual to reveal themselves.
Raising his defenses, Andrey sent a simple message back. "How?"
"I assumed you understood my Arts. Perhaps I overestimated you."
The Arts came from a tangible source nearby… Andrey could find its location. He replied once more. "… Imitation?"
It seemed the only other choice.
"You seem uncertain."
The source was nearby – the Arts too powerful to be distant. And they were coming from a specific direction. Andrey sighed and replied. This would take some time. "So, I am correct."
"Yes, you are." They seemed willing to give away information… and finally, Andrey felt their presence nearby.
They were within the bounds of the camp. Fredrich?
Well, he doubted simple Arts could get him into Fredrich's mind, if that were the case.
Recalling what he had learned from his memories, Andrey linked his mind to Fredrich's – and suddenly, he was within Fredrich's mindscape.
It was a quaint house in a blurred street – Andrey recognized it as from Leithanien. But as he approached, he found the windows boarded up, and the doors barricaded; likely the "defenses" the man had set up.
He lightly tapped on one of the panels, roughly nailed upon the door; nope, not illusory.
Well, time to try brute force. Collecting his Arts, he focused upon the door – and kicked the wood panel, breaking it in half; his foot passing straight through and taking the door with it.
The broken bits of wood landed a good few meters away, before disappearing into motes of light.
"Huh." Perhaps he had overdone it. The door had almost disappeared, a halo of splintered wood the only remnants still attached to its frame. He stepped past the broken door, and then he was in.
His eyes were drawn to a map upon the wall in front of him, and a familiar emblem upon it.
Oh, how fate played tricks on all of them…
It was his spy corps.
Fredrich should have known earlier. The crystal had been abnormal – that was the reason he had ripped it out from its prison in the first place. But he had failed to recognize just how abnormal it was.
Keeping a consciousness in a Originium crystal, much less one smaller than his fist, was unheard of. Though it did give the Corps hope…
Shaking his head, he dispelled the thoughts, rummaging through the bag of items he kept within his tent. It was here somewhere…
And then a pulse of pain knocked him over. All the muscles in his body went slack, and he collapsed like a ragdoll to the ground.
An Arts attack, one which had torn through the imitation-barriers he had.
Where… he made to activate his Arts, but it was unnecessary.
Looking down, Fredrich saw a thin, almost invisible tendril of red linking towards him.
He readied an array of Arts needles, hoping at least one of them would pierce through the crystal – weakly raising his wand, in an effort to bring them down.
Too late.
Red consumed his vision.
AN: Finally finished something on-time (I say, at 3 AM in the morning). Perhaps it's too much stuff concentrated into so short a chapter, but it seems fine. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! We're finally getting somewhere.
Additional note: I just noticed something. When copy-pasting from Microsoft Word into FFN, I appear to have lost all of my spacing. It's been 28 chapters, and I've just realized that all of the three-line spaces and fancy formatting I have are gone. Damnit! Anyways, I've replaced them with horizontal lines and added those to this chapter now. I'll start adding them to previous chapters tomorrow.