Frozen Fire
Chapter Thirteen: Grim Discoveries
xXx
Tucker stared at the knife.
At Sam's knife.
It glared like a beacon in the lab's bright fluorescent lighting. He almost couldn't make sense of it, his mind a churning tide of grief and confusion.
"Is that. . .?" Maddie breathed. Her chair released a cacophonous screech as she rose from her seat at the supercomputer and joined Tucker at the table. Jack followed her, his large form an encroaching shadow that eclipsed some of the bright glaring light.
Tucker nodded numbly, even as Jack bent and lifted the knife from the table. "It is," Tucker murmured. He barely recognized his own voice. He watched Jack slowly examine the jade tinted blade with an expert's eye. "She had it on her when she left that day."
Maddie's eyes became glassy. "But if they found her knife . . ." She trailed off and gave Tucker a beseeching look. He knew what she was asking him.
He shook his head. "I didn't hear anything about any of the teams finding . . . her."
He hadn't been able to say that poisonous word that lurked at the tip of his tongue—avoiding it with all his might. Sam would never just be "remains" to him. He couldn't bring himself to think of her in that way. Like acknowledging it would make it true. It was a truth he still shied away from, even two months later.
Maddie was quiet as she studied the shining blade in Jack's hands. She wrung her fingers and took a steadying breath, before her eyes flicked to the additional item that had fallen from the bundle of cloth. "He sent a data chip too?"
Tucker retrieved it from the cool table and handed it to her.
She wasted no time as she hurried back to her computer and slotted it into the reader that she and Tucker had designed early on in his apprenticeship. It had taken some work to get it to function with the older technology of the compound's equipment, but they'd managed.
Maddie's brow furrowed when her computer chimed as it recognized the chip.
"What is it, Madds?" Jack asked.
"It's from drone number nine," she said slowly, her head tilting.
"The one from the park?"
She nodded, her expression still puzzled.
Even Tucker was confused. "But Sam had just changed out that chipset and replaced its battery pack. It should still have been fine for another month. Another two, even."
"I know," Maddie agreed. "I guess we won't know why Dale pulled the chip early until the data finishes syncing,"
Tucker groaned. "But that could take hours."
"Maybe it's because he found her knife," Jack said then, and both Maddie and Tucker looked at him incredulously. Up until now, he'd been quiet, his grim face impassive as he studied Sam's knife, tilted it this way and that.
Maddie's lips pursed in thought. "Maybe he thinks we'll get something useful from the drone's data."
"Like what?" Tucker asked.
Maddie's thin shoulders shrugged. "I don't know. Multiple reports already stated that Sam was taken by the horde near the reactor."
"But if Dale Barbarra found her knife in the park . . .?" Jack said, his dark brows low over his eyes. "I know our girl, she wouldn't have just left this knife laying around."
"Which means she was alive after those ghosts took her," Maddie gasped.
"And if it was near the drone, then maybe it picked up on something," Tucker added. His heart jackhammered in his chest, even as a knot twisted somewhere deep in his stomach. A large part of him wasn't ready for this—to learn what exactly had ended his best friend. Hell, he hadn't even begun unraveling the tangled mess that was his grief, his aching sorrow. But he knew he needed to uncover whatever truth was hidden, to avenge her in any way he could. It was all he could do for her now.
His fingers rapped rhythmically against the etched stainless-steel surface of the table while his thoughts drifted. The FENTODRONES were good for environmental analysis, but were also programmed to collect video feeds of any noteworthy ectosignatures they picked up on. Perhaps they would find something.
They waited impatiently for the data to synchronize. Maddie paced while Jack tinkered with one of his contraptions, this time a giant dart gun that utilized vials of an electric green compound he'd synthesized recently. Tucker had meant to ask him about it, but his mind was too muddled. Instead, he played a game of Snake on an old PDA he'd had since he was a kid.
With no windows to signal the passing of time, he wasn't sure how long it took the computer to finalize, but jumped as Maddie inhaled a sharp breath through her teeth. "It's done." Her voice shook.
Tucker and Jack crowded around Maddie at her supercomputer. Her hand trembled on her computer mouse as she clicked through various pages of encrypted data until she reached a simple folder that was labeled "video surveillance."
Tucker swallowed hard when he noticed the folder contained several gigabytes of data. It meant that a noteworthy ectonsignature had been detected and recorded. And when she opened them and the videos played, he felt his thunderous heart launch into his throat.
The images were grainy. It was obvious that the drone had been far away when it had first picked up on the disturbance. Red smoke clouded the screen. But even through the dusty red haze that billowed across the drone's viewfinder, he could see it.
"It's a ghost dog," Maddie observed in surprise.
"The one that our scanners picked up on?" Jack asked
Maddie's short hair swayed as she nodded. "Yes." Tucker couldn't see her face, but he saw her lean closer to her screen. "Its behavior is . . . odd."
Tucker's wide eyes studied the screen. He watched the massive bulldog of a creature as it staggered, almost drunkenly, through the air. Its movements were confused and nonsensical, like it was rabid. Even in the grainy images, he could see the glistening lower teeth from its massive underbite and shuddered. "That thing is terrifying."
"And strange," Maddie murmured absently. Tucker shot her a strange look, only to be taken aback by the sheer wonder he saw on her face. "So out of place without those formless wisps we've been getting."
Suddenly, the creature froze, its floppy ears pricked at something unseen in the distance. It bounded out of frame and the video ceased.
"That's it?" Jack said.
"There's one more," Maddie said as she clicked to the next video.
The drones were programmed to follow an ectosignature as long as it stayed within its jurisdiction. FENTODRONE #9 had done just that. It had tracked the ghostly creature deeper into Amity's wooded park, traversing through the sickly forest. What had once been lush and green was now dark and grey, the trees rotting as they leaned across the frame. They resembled clawed fingers, reaching for them through the drone's camera, like terrible beasts waiting in the shadows.
Then the camera panned as the drone burst through a cage of branches. Its wide angled viewfinder narrowed in on its target.
This time all three of them gasped.
"It's Sam!" Tucker cried, his knees wobbling.
"Oh my god," Maddie breathed.
"And the Phantom," Jack growled.
The drone focused just as the ghost dog launched for the humanoid ghost that had Sam in its grasp. In a blur, Phantom hurled Sam away, before it propelled itself at the ghost dog. The ensuing battle was brief but brutal, with Phantom using what looked like an ice power to freeze the ghost dog's large snout, binding its jaws.
Tucker's eyes flicked between the two ghosts and the dark lump that was his friend, tears streaking down his cheeks. The image was so grainy that he couldn't see the details, but he could see enough to know that she was horrifically injured. Acid burned in the back of his throat. What had Phantom been doing to her?
He couldn't watch this. He needed to look away. Needed to hurl up the contents of his roiling stomach.
But he couldn't look away, either.
Then another figure appeared, lumbering from somewhere off screen. "What the hell is that?" he asked, horrified.
"I'm not sure," Maddie replied.
The figure was large, much bigger than Phantom, but smaller than the ghost dog. It had white fur, a long pluming tail, and large blue horns that curled and gleamed under the red light. The creature turned slightly, and he also noticed an arm that was comprised of the same substance as its horns. He couldn't be sure, but Tucker was certain he could see the paleness of bones winking through the blue. Its body was large and rounded, short necked, and though it was hard to make out its face due to the image quality, he could see the wide muzzle that kind of reminded him of a bear's.
The . . . thing approached Sam, slowly, its arms splayed wide as Sam dragged her broken body to her feet, teetering as she tried to remain standing, her charged weapon poised in the creature's face.
"Get it Sam!" Jack shouted at the screen. "That's our girl! Destroy that spook!"
But Sam didn't. Instead, she dropped her weapon. Tucker watched in horror as his best friend sank to her knees and then toppled limply to her side.
Maddie unleashed a strangled noise that kind of sounded like a wounded animal. Jack's breath hitched, his gloved fingers curling against the desk of the supercomputer as he sagged with grief and horror. Then the large man jerked and thrust his large arm around Maddie's quivering shoulders, drew her close to his bulk.
Wide-eyed, Tucker couldn't look away. Couldn't stop watching. His body was trembling, and he wasn't sure when he'd gotten so close to the screen, but he was a mere five inches away now, the image distorted due to the well of tears burning in his eyes. He cursed and wiped them away with the back of his hand.
The large creature seemed to study Sam's body. Then it kneeled to her side and pressed its large hand to her cheek. Even from the distance and the rough pixelization, Tucker recognized the ruddy color staining the creature's fur. Blood. Sam's blood.
The drone drifted slightly, its little mechanical eye shifting and focusing, until it caught a shot of Phantom as it yanked the ghost dog to the ground next to Sam and the white-furred creature. The dog struggled mercilessly against its binds, though Phantom seemed to have no trouble holding it at bay despite its much larger size.
There was a pause as the monstrous ghosts appeared to converse with each other, heads turning, hands gesturing to Sam's lifeless form. Tucker couldn't be sure, but it looked like they were arguing. Phantom's eyes glowed an eerie electric green in the dim light. That sight alone caused a fresh bout of terror to clench within his gut. His poor friend. Alone with those monsters.
The white-furred creature turned then, and with a gentleness Tucker didn't expect, it scooped Sam into its arms and cradled her to its giant barreled chest. He could see the dark mop of Sam's helmetless head lolling to the side, her disfigured arm dangling.
"What are they doing to her?" Tucker asked, horrified.
"I'm not sure," Maddie said in a wavering voice.
"Damn spooks," Jack hissed. He pounded large fists onto Maddie's desk so hard that her mouse and keyboard lurched. Veins strained in his thick neck. "Leave her alone!"
Phantom watched the white-furred beast, its head shaking, as if in resignation. It started to turn, then halted as its eyes caught on Sam's ectogun that still lay at the white-furred beast's feet. Phantom snatched the weapon, turning it in its hand as if to observe it under the dim light, before it plopped it unceremoniously onto Sam's stomach. Then Phantom gestured with its free hand to the furred beast, as if waiting for something.
Tucking Sam into a single arm, the furred creature reached into a satchel that was slung across its shoulder and pulled out a glowing object that resembled a scroll. They observed it briefly, before the furred creature pointed to somewhere in the distance.
Phantom nodded. In a burst of speed and power it seized the furred creature under its arm and then suddenly all of them, the ghost dog and Sam included, seemed to wink out of existence all together.
The ensuing silence in the lab seemed to howl as a result.
They all stared at the screen, even as the grainy footage ended and was abruptly replaced with the white file management screen, the video now reverted to a small thumbnail and a label.
"What . . . the hell . . . just happened," Tucker said hoarsely. He stumbled backwards, bracing his weight against the table behind him.
"Phantom took her," Jack hissed. Tucker winced as Jack seized the nearest object, a Fenton Bazooka, and sent it careening across the lab until it collided with the nearest wall with a loud CRACK.
Maddie was shaking her head, eyes wide.
"What kind of ghost was that other thing?" Tucker demanded. "And what the hell was the Phantom doing with Sam?"
"I don't know." Maddie's voice was hollow, defeated. "It's been so long since we've seen corporeal ghosts in Amity . . ." She shook her head again. "Oh, Sam. Sam."
"Madds," Jack said. He crouched at her side and slung his arm around her like he could ward away all her pain.
Acid continued to scorch the back of Tucker's throat. He swallowed it back, though his eyes burned as hot tears streaked down his cheeks. "Barbarra must have found her knife, saw the drone, and figured it would have answers."
Maddie's eyes shone, but her expression hardened. "I need to watch it again."
"Mrs. Fenton, are you sure that's a good idea?" Tucker asked.
"It is." Her voice held a strength that surprised him. He looked at her then. Really looked at her. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, but her jaw was set, her shoulders squared. "Their behavior is all over the place. It's an anomaly and I need to study it." Then her sea green eyes turned to steel as they bored into his. "Tell no one about this."
His brows rose. "Shouldn't Damon . . .?"
"No." Maddie's voice was firm. Hard, even. It surprised Tucker so much that he jumped from where he still leaned against the table behind her supercomputer. "This stays in this lab. No one knows but us."
Jack was studying his wife with an intensity that Tucker was unused to seeing in him. "Madds, are we sure we wanna do this again. After what happened last time . . .?"
Tucker looked between them in alarm. "After what happened last time? What happened? What are you guys talking about?"
"Yes, Jack," she affirmed, resolute. "The appearance of ectocorporeality means something. I know it does."
"Ectocoporeality?" Tucker asked. He'd known the Fentons had once been involved in a secret division of ectoscience, but he'd never been told the details. It was heavily classified. But over the years of working with them, he'd gleaned that whatever information the Fentons had uncovered during their stint in the higher ranks had been what caused their untimely relegation. They never brought it up, and he never felt that it was his place to ask.
They didn't answer him. Instead, Maddie simply met Jack's gaze, and a silent conversation seemed to pass between them. Then Jack nodded.
Tucker turned away when she clicked on the second video again and replayed it.
xXx
Sam woke with a jolt.
The mountain castle trembled and groaned, no doubt from whatever had just exploded at the surface. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the furry covers up to her chin and stared hard at the sea of twinkling stars above her bed. She tried to ignore it when a particularly powerful blast caused the stars at her ceiling to peter out momentarily.
Inhale. Exhale. Pretend that her heart wasn't currently slamming into her ribcage.
The castle quaked again. Sam swore and squeezed her eyes shut, even as terror clawed at her insides like some feral creature.
It was getting easier to handle. Each and every time her world rocked, and the incessant echoing of war pounded in her ears, she'd make a point to stay in her bed. Wait it out and listen. Distract herself with the illusion of twinkling stars at her ceiling. Ignore when they flickered into transparency as a powerful blast hit the mountain castle. She knew it was pathetic. Sweepers were supposed to be fearless. She was supposed to be fearless.
But she wasn't. She knew that now.
It was nearly an hour later when the rumbling ceased and settled into an eerie silence. It was several more before the telltale glow of cryokinetic energy began disintegrating the icy barricade that kept her door frozen into place. She scrambled out of her bed, already dressed, as she'd already decided to forgo the hot springs today. She was beyond anxious to see Tsuel.
Only to freeze when she realized it was not Tsuel who was waiting for her.
She gaped at the bespectacled Driftwind, who shifted nervously on the other side of her doorway.
"Uh," Sam drawled. "Hi?"
"Greetings, human girl," Driftwind said, sighing. He spun on his heel, a clawed hand beckoning for her as he rushed away. "Come, come. I don't have all day."
Sam chased after him. "Where is Tsuel?" Alarm bells chimed in her head. "Is she okay?"
"She is well," Driftwind said without looking at her. "She is simply busy. She did instruct me to inform you that she intends to arrive to the castle as soon as she is able to."
Relief surged through her.
She had to jog to keep pace with Driftwind as he ambled through the network of passageways. He never once checked to make sure she was still following him.
"How is everything out there?" Sam asked him.
Driftwind didn't so much as glance down at her. "Things are as well as they can be, I suppose."
"I'm surprised they sent you to get me," she said. "I don't think I've ever really talked to you before."
Driftwind sniffed, his expression sour. His spectacles glinted as they passed under a glowing energy orb. "I am a court advisor. Such errands should be below me." He sighed. "But alas, I cannot deny a request made by our king."
They didn't speak again until they reached the familiar arched entryway that she had become so acquainted with the past few months. Driftwind gave her a hard look. "I have duties to attend to. Do not leave until Tsuel arrives. She should be here shortly."
Sam's stomach growled. It was already hours passed when she usually ate her breakfast. She waved a hand at him. "No worries, Dexter, I have a hot date with a bowl of oatmeal, anyway."
Driftwind's brows furrowed as he looked at her strangely, no doubt perplexed by her choice of words. "Very well." Without another word, he turned and powerwalked away, his tale swishing behind him.
Sam chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she entered the kitchen.
She realized too late that she wasn't alone.
His usual dusky cloak was missing, the dark navy fabric of his tunic shorn to shreds in places. He stood beyond the marbled island near the wash basin, a metal challis filled to the brim with water that lapped over the cup's edges. His arm was stained green, a myriad gashes dripping with glowing ectoplasm. It pooled on the counter beneath his bare forearm, coagulating as it seeped along the counter, to the edge, and dripped to the floor. She could see how tensed his jaw was from the gritting of his teeth.
Phantom glanced up at her in surprise to where she stood frozen in the entryway. His eyes were haunted.
She couldn't stop looking at his arm. "What happened to you?"
"It looks worse than it is. Not all of it is mine." Phantom shrugged. He looked away from her, refusing to meet her eyes. "Not that you care."
Sam felt her temper spike at his attitude. "Excuse me for giving a shit," she snapped.
His mouth pursed into a thin line. "Go somewhere else, human. Or I can leave. Whichever works best for you. I'm not in the mood to be ridiculed by you."
She was appalled. "Who says I'm here to ridicule you?"
His eyes flashed an unsettling vibrant green that she glimpsed before he turned away from her. He muttered, "Oh, I don't know, past experience, maybe?"
She stifled her gasp of surprise at the sight of his back now that she could see it. The back of his tunic was shredded, the oily sheen of ectoplasm glistening under the flickering torchlight. Her stomach churned at the sight. Apprehension barreled through her.
Her feet remained frozen in place, a single hand grasping the arched wooden frame of the kitchen's entryway. Her body screamed in revulsion for her to leave, to get as far away from this apex predator as she could get. But another part of her, the part of her she'd thought long gone in the aftermath of Amity's fall, wriggled free from somewhere deep inside her chest. She felt it, her compassion, blossoming the longer she watched him.
He wasn't just a ghost to her now, but a wounded creature in need of help.
He still wouldn't look at her. His green eyes were trained on the basin, the metal challis trembling in his grip, like he struggled for control over his own emotions. He didn't seem affected by his wounds so much as he seemed lost within his own self.
"Just . . . go, Sam," he said, almost brokenly. "Please."
Determination flared within her then.
She thought nothing of his ghostliness as she stormed toward him and snatched one of the clean washrags hanging near the basin. Then, without pausing to second guess herself, she grabbed his arm and dabbed hastily at every open wound she could find. His arm was cold and thrummed with a sort of electrifying energy beneath her fingers, though she also felt the hardened muscle that lay hidden beneath.
With a light touch, her fingers trailed along those lines of sinewy muscle in survey of his injuries, wiping away an alarming amount of ectoplasmic green. His skin was cold and pliable beneath her fingertips, and he didn't resist as she turned his arm this way and that to better attend to his wounds. Everywhere she looked, she saw what appeared to be bite wounds; they peppered his arm and tore angrily at his flesh.
When she realized what was happening—what she was doing—her fingers froze, her eyes shifting sharply until they met his widened ones. His normally composed mask of neutrality was now openly shocked as he gaped at her.
She was touching him. Willingly touching him.
They stared at each other in stunned silence. She still grasped his arm with both of her hands, and he made no move to pull away from her, both of them frozen in shock.
"Uh . . . " Phantom drawled, his expression puzzled. "Why did—?"
"Great stars and Ancients above!" Tsuel shrieked so suddenly that they both jumped.
Sam dropped his arm as if it burned her and staggered away from him, her cheeks heated with mortification. She tossed him the stained rag that he caught without looking at her, too focused on the great furred beast barreling toward him.
"Danny, what in the name of all things Ancient are you doing in here?! I thought I instructed you to see Sleetjaw right away!" Her clawed hands fluttered, afraid to touch him. She settled for looping her thick arm around his shoulders and pulled him roughly to her side.
Phantom's voice was muffled by Tsuel's fur as he mumbled, "Mff-fine, Tsuel, jus' ffirsty."
Tsuel growled. "Come, we are going to Sleetjaw post haste!" She dragged him hastily out the door. The challis Phantom had been holding fell from his hand and clattered as it hit the floor.
Sam, with her back pressed against the adjacent counter, had watched the chaos incredulously.
She shook her head after they disappeared through the doorway and bent to retrieve the spilled challis from the floor. A foxen had already beaten her to it and proudly presented her with the cup like it was some prized artifact. She smiled at the little creature and scratched between its ears. "Thanks, lil dude."
The creature chuffed in response, its fluffy tail wagging excitedly. Several other foxen were already working to clean the mess of ectoplasm Phantom had left behind. Sam watched them thoughtfully, her fingers tightening on the cool metallic shape of the challis in her hands. Her thoughts were jumbled, and she struggled to make sense of them.
Why had she touched Phantom like that? She felt her stomach twist as she realized how close they'd been, at what it had felt like to touch his bare skin—which felt a helluva lot more human than she expected. Too cold and thrumming with energy, sure, but she still hadn't felt like she was touching a ghost. It was disconcerting and beyond weird and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.
Sam chewed on her bottom lip while she watched the foxen work. Then her eyes drifted to the challis, to her warped reflection gleaming at her from its metal surface.
She didn't give herself long to think about what she intended to do next. She simply launched into action. She strode toward the metal basin and refilled the challis with the hand pump that protruded from the wall behind it.
With her world in a constant state of progressive fuckery, she knew she needed to start getting some answers, lest she lose her damn mind. Consequences be damned. Lectures and strange intellectual rituals be damned. She would get some answers. Today.
She stormed for the entryway and didn't stop until she reached her intended destination.
Sam paused when she reached the medical sector. She watched the shadows that danced along with rainbows from an entryway further down. Muffled, argumentative voices drifted out into the hall. They abruptly ceased as she approached.
All was quiet, then Sam heard Frostbite's baritone voice say, "Sam? Is that you?"
Metal challis in hand, grasped so tightly that cold water sloshed over her numbed fingers as she walked, Sam entered the room and blanched.
She barely noticed the glares searing at her from Icefang and Elle, or Tsuel and Frostbreath and their widened gazes, or Frostbite and Driftwind with their quiet pauses as they assessed the situation. No, her mind had utterly blanked.
Because where in the hell was Phantom's shirt?
His expression was bored, irritated even, as he patiently waited for Sleetjaw to finish his ministrations on his back. Sam noted the broad chest, the muscled arms, the leanness to him that was both wiry and brimming with corded muscle.
She also noticed the scars.
They began at his right hand, twisted up his arm in an intricate matrix of curves and spirals. The tendrils of discoloration branched off from the larger sections, until they ended abruptly at his chest. It was almost beautiful, the way the patterns mottled his bare skin, like a tattoo forged from nature itself.
"Uh," Sam said dumbly. She tore her eyes away when she realized the silence was beginning to turn awkward. "I—uh—here." She closed the remaining distance between them and handed him the challis.
"Thanks?" He took It from her, and even from her peripheral she could see the odd look he was giving her. Then he winced at something Sleetjaw did to his back. "Ow."
"I am sorry, Great One," Sleetjaw said. "I do not mean to cause you pain."
Sam's brows rose at the mention of pain, and at Phantom's display of discomfort. She'd always thought that ghosts couldn't feel pain. Maddie Fenton had told her once that given a ghost's physiological anomalies and lack of proper nervous system, that it was impossible for them to feel such things. Instead, they merely recognized danger and reacted to that. A show of pain was a façade.
She wasn't so sure now.
Oddly fascinated, she watched Sleetjaw work. He wielded a strange metal tool. It was oblong in shape, almost pencil-like, and metallurgical. With a turbulent hum, it welded together the massive wounds crisscrossing over Phantom's muscular back, fusing the skin and leaving behind faint white marks that faded almost instantly. Sleetjaw skillfully maneuvered the thing with a single clawed hand, while his other dampened and cleaned residual ectoplasm away from the wounded areas.
"I thought you guys had healing powers?" Sam couldn't help but ask.
"Why would you assume that?" Sleetjaw responded absently.
Sam's memories flashed. Pain, and a frigid coldness that numbs her . . . vision swimming with darkness. Her body is lost in a sea of pain, her lungs full of fire. She is so cold and yet she burns. With a shake of her head at the memory, her mouth thinned into a frown as she recalled the feeling of cold energy in her chest, the numbness of her limbs. "Then what did you do to me?"
Sleetjaw's eyes remained unfixed from hers. "As I told you before, you spent several days in the bacta tank. It is a solution of bacteria and microbiotics that promotes the regeneration of organic compounds. Your injuries were severe, and you would not have survived without such intervention."
"The yeti are known for our scientific achievements, especially in the medical field. We are merely cryokinetic and humble collectors of knowledge, not healers, Sam," Frostbite said tiredly.
Sam shook her head as she observed the healed skin of Phantom's formerly ravaged back. Even his arm that she'd dabbed at so futilely with her little wash rag was healed. His bored expression remained fixed on the floor, his chin resting in the hand he had braced on his knee, sulking.
"This all would've healed on its own," Phantom stated gloomily. Had circumstances been different, she might have smirked at his petulance. Seeing him out of his element for once was kind of refreshing. She could tell he absolutely hated the attention from all of them.
"Yes," Sleetjaw said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But the poisons would cause you great pain should any of it remain in your system."
"Wait, what about poison?" Sam blurted. She looked around the room wildly. "What the hell is attacking you guys?"
Her answer was silence. From all of them. Fucking crickets—or whatever the hell was equivalent to crickets in the Far Frozen.
She used their silence to finally observe them all. Frostbite and Elle slouched together on an icy bench across the room, while Tsuel, Frostbreath, and Driftwind hovered around them. Icefang loomed menacingly in the room's opposite corner like a guard dog, his eyes spearing through her as if he could make her spontaneously combust with his glare alone. They all looked ragged as hell, their clothes shorn and kaleidoscopic due to the green and purple stains mottling them.
Frostbite, whose claws were drifting rhythmically through the hair atop Elle's head, lifted his chin. "You are not ready, Sam."
"Oh, come on!" She threw her hands in frustration. "I just want to know what's out there. Especially if there's something powerful enough to get the drop on him." She gestured wildly to Phantom who was still perched on the medical table in the room's center. "I think I have the right to know what it is."
"They caught me by surprise," Phantom muttered.
"No," Elle snapped, "you hesitated."
"There was a horde of them," he fired right back, "or did you miss that?"
Sam balked at the word horde. Her stomach churned. "Like what attacked me at Amity?"
Phantom's eyes met hers. He straightened, his expression grim. "Worse."
Sam paled and staggered a bit in her shock. "Wh—what do you mean, worse?"
"You should probably leave, human," Elle said, her narrowed eyes glowing with barely restrained rage. "You really don't belong here."
Sam felt that primal fear in her wriggle as she met Elle's glare with a cool stare of her own. She would not be cowed by her. By any of them. She was done—done being afraid. Ghosts and spirits, undead or not, she would not let them get to her. Not anymore. She lifted her chin. "I'm not going anywhere."
Elle's brows rose in surprise.
"Mind your place, insolent brat!" Icefang hissed. A jagged wall of razer-sharp teeth gleamed at her from his curled lip and wrinkled muzzle. He stalked out of his corner of the room and scowled at her.
Driftwind seemed uncomfortable. He shrunk away from the much larger, seething male that had suddenly appeared beside him. With an alarmed glance between Icefang and Sam, he stammered, "Ch—child, perhaps it would be best—"
"Not a chance." Sam crossed her arms in defiance. She was so much smaller than all of them, even Driftwind, but she straightened to her full height. She directed her glare at Elle. "If I'm so important to your stupid prophecy, then I deserve to be here."
Elle said nothing as she stared Sam down.
"Deserve?" Icefang's bared teeth morphed into a vicious smile. "You deserve nothing. You are lucky we have let you live it all."
"Peace, Icefang," Frostbite warned. Sam sensed the yeti king's hulking presence slowly approach from behind her. "Do not make me remove you."
The rainbows dancing merrily about the room were ironic considering the palpable tension currently stifling its occupants. Sam's heart was a wild animal struggling to free itself from her ribcage, but she didn't care. She was beyond tired of the cryptic runaround, of the whispered secrets, of being so damn afraid all the time. To hell with playing games, both theirs and her own. She was done. Done.
Her eyes flicked and met Phantom's then. His expression was unreadable, though his mouth seemed to twitch, as if amused by her. Like she was entertaining him. Her, the puny, weak little human—mere fodder for his amusement. Disgust rippled through her, and she gave him a scathing look.
"You. Do not. Belong here," Icefang growled again. A rumbling sound erupted from somewhere deep inside his chest. It was a terrible, harrowing sound. One that probably would have caused her to be a trembling wreck a mere two months ago. It did nothing to her now.
Sam spun and gave him an unimpressed look. "Oh, stuff it, asshole."
She didn't have time to react when he lunged for her.
Before she could so much as flinch, Tsuel appeared between them, an incensed wall of white. She forcefully shoved Sam backwards, her hackles raised like bony spines, and snarled right back at the much larger Icefang, even as he towered over her menacingly. Frostbreath was quick to join her, his bulk on par with Icefang's, though Icefang was broader.
"Are you mad?" Icefang hissed at them, ears pinned flat to his head. "This human has poisoned your minds."
Frostbreath growled in return. "You are incorrect. Sam is innocent."
"No human is innocent," Icefang barked. "They are all leeches and cubkillers. Parasites to this realm."
"That is enough," Frostbite boomed, while Sam felt herself start at the word cubkiller. He shoved a muscular arm into Icefang's chest, forcing the brute backwards and to his knees. He stared Icefang down with a domineering glower until the latter shamefully averted his gaze.
"What is he talking about?" Sam asked the room, willing anyone to answer her. No one did. The room's deafening silence roared in her ears. Her anger bristled again. "What is going on?"
His back still to her, voice strained, Frostbite said, "I understand why you want to be involved in our affairs, Sam, but now is not the ti—"
"Just tell her," Phantom said suddenly, surprising everyone. Elle gaped at him like he'd grown two heads.
Frostbite's large head whipped in Phantom's direction. His long tail twitched, inadvertently thumping into Sam's legs so hard that she would have toppled over had Tsuel not snagged her by the scruff of her jacket to steady her. Then he said, "She is not ready."
Phantom's expression remained bored as he met his father's eyes. "If she's living here, she should know. It's not like it's really that big of a secret."
"I agree with Danny, Frostbite," Tsuel said with a soft, conciliatory voice. "Sam is as big a part of this now as we are. Maybe even more so. She needs to know what threatens both our worlds."
There was an intense bout of silence as all eyes remained focused on Frostbite. Wisps of frozen air trailed along his muzzle as he sighed in thought, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room, before settling on Sam's. Sam met the yeti kings bloodred stare with as much intensity and strength as she could muster until his brows lifted, and acquiescence softened his somber gaze.
"You cannot be serious, Frostbite," Icefang growled. "She is not one of us. She is a human wretch!"
Sam leaned around Frostbite and gave Icefang an exasperated look. "What is your problem with me, dude? I've done nothing to you?!"
"Nothing?" Icefang bristled, rising again to his feet to tower above her. His claws flexed and his tail whipped around him in fury. "Nothing?!" he repeated, roaring the word. "It is because of humans that I have lost everything."
Sam blinked, taken aback. For the first time, she could see through the veil of Icefang's hatred for her. Until now, she'd always viewed him as a one-dimensional, angry creature whose hatred for her burned unwarranted, but something in the way his eyes guttered and his body trembled, at the way grief seemed to emanate from him, caused her to pause. She stared at him, and the word cubkiller whispered from the back of her mind. Icy shame trickled through her.
Icefang's glassy-eyed gaze landed on Sam with the weight of a bag of bricks as he rasped, "I have lost everything I ever loved because of humans." Then he turned and directed a cutting glare at Frostbite. "And you," he spat, spittle flying through his bared fangs. "Have you forgotten what humans have done to your own daughter?"
Tension as thick as smog settled over the room. Elle recoiled as if she'd been slapped. Tsuel reacted immediately, enveloping the ghost girl in her arms while her eyes glared golden daggers at Icefang.
"I think it would be best if you took the rest of the day off," Frostbite said with a deadly calmness. "You know more than anyone why we do not bring that up."
"Why not? If you tell the human one of your secrets, you may as well tell it all of th—!"
"GET OUT!" Frostbite charged with his jaws snapping. Power stifled the room, tendrils of ice freezing into deathly spires on the ground. He chased Icefang out of the room and then stood with hackles raised at the entryway until the other beast was long gone from the corridor.
Elle's already fair complexion was bone-white, drained of all color. Sam watched Tsuel rub consoling circles onto her back as she whispered gentle nothings into her hair.
Sam stood frozen to her spot. She fought back the urge to sag as her adrenaline banked and then dumped. It left her feeling exhausted beyond all measure. "I didn't know he lost a family," she said sadly to Frostbite's back.
"Icefang is a good yeti," Frostbite said without turning around. "But he has experienced great pain, as have many of us." He looked at her over his shoulder, his expression grim. With a flash of his icy arm, he beckoned her forward. "Come, I will tell you what you have asked of me, but I do not wish to have this conversation here."
With one last look at Tsuel and Elle, as well as an acknowledging nod to Frostbtreath, Sam followed Frostbite out of the room.
"Hold on," a voice behind her said. Sam looked over her shoulder to see Phantom sliding off the medical table. He slipped a fresh tunic that a foxen had brought over his head. "I'm coming too."
xXx
Frostbite's study was cold as they entered. Sam shivered, her eyes homing in on the darkened bejeweled maw yawning in the room's center, intent on rectifying the chill as quickly as possible. Her eyes flicked, in search of the agitator rod for the firestones, when a sudden blast of green fire erupted from somewhere on her right.
With a startled yelp, she jumped away from its source and scowled at him.
"Asshole," Sam hissed at Phantom.
"Sorry, force of habit."
Her heart still thundering, she rolled her eyes and plopped into her favorite rocking chair that would put her on Frostbite's left side. It gave her the best unobstructed view of the room and kept her back away from the door. She also liked the freedom to marvel at his expansive collection of tomes and artifacts that lined the floor to ceiling shelves bordering the room.
"My son does enjoy the dramatics on occasion," Frostbite said with fond resignation as he lowered his mass into his own chair.
Phantom shrugged. "It's quicker than using the rod."
He was right, the effect was instantaneous. Fire leapt from the pile of ebony stones and roared to life within a blink of her eye. Glorious heat lapped at her from the crackling flames. She couldn't stop herself from basking in it, sighing in relief as it restored feeling to her chilled skin, her numbed fingers.
Across from her on Frostbite's other side, Phantom sank into the remaining chair. She was surprised when he, too, seemed to relax in the fire's warming glow. She hadn't thought about it before, but she wondered now if temperature did have an effect on him, after all. He never seemed bothered by the cold but seemed to welcome the presence of warmth.
She studied him, her head cocked as she wiggled feeling back into her fingers. Dark shadows danced along the planes of his cheeks, the light of the bright orange and yellow flames intermingled with his snow-white hair. His ghostly aura, which glowed bright in the shadows, appeared subdued in contrast to the radiant fire. It made him seem more . . . human. She realized with a start that he looked good in firelight.
Even when he was sulking. Which he was currently doing. He slouched, green eyes glaring tired daggers into the flames as if they'd personally offended him. His chin rested in a hand that he braced against the arm on his chair.
Without looking at her, he said, "Something on your mind, human?"
Sam sputtered, embarrassed that she'd been caught. She tore her eyes away from him, opting to join him in his battle in glaring at the fire into submission. "Just wondering what you're sulking about over there," she deadpanned.
"I don't sulk."
She had to bite back her wicked grin. "Whatever you say. Sulker."
"Why does everyone always say that I sulk?" he muttered. "I'm not sulking. I'm thinking."
"I hate to break it to you, dude, but sulking is basically just thinking with a frown. Which you're currently doing. You're literally frowning so hard."
"At least call it brooding," he said. "It makes it sound cooler."
"Nah," she drawled. "You're sulking."
He shot her an unimpressed look. "You're hilarious."
"I am. You're right," she said dryly, then narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you here, again?"
He returned the look with an exasperated expression of his own. "To translate my father's vague answers for you."
Frostbite, who'd been glancing between them in bewilderment, frowned. "I am not vague. I always respond with the knowledge I have garnered from my years of research, and when I am not bound to remain clandestine by a rite of knowledge."
Phantom jerked his thumb at the yeti king. "See, case in point. Even that was somehow vague."
Sam sighed in defeat. "Fine. I see your point."
He blinked at her. "Did we actually just agree on something?"
"Only this time," she replied in her usual monotone. "Because we share a common adversary for once."
Phantom arched a brow and leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms with a smirk. "Ah, the ol' enemy of my enemy makes you my friend schtick, then. Is that it?"
Sam's brows shot into her hairline in surprise, taken aback at the human phrase. "Uh, yeah, sure," she replied lamely. "I guess it does. But only for this probably long and most likely really redundant conversation. Then we can go back to hating each other."
"To you hating me, you mean," he said. "I have never hated you."
She arched her brow at him.
"Strong dislike isn't the same as hate," he added.
She snorted as a memory from her first night in the Far Frozen flashed through her mind. Of what he'd said to her outside the extravagant dining chamber. "Mutual mistrusting, right?"
He grinned. "Exactly."
Frostbite loudly cleared his throat. His look of bewilderment was now narrowed suspicion as his ruby eyes shifted between them. "Why do I feel as if I am being insulted?"
Sam's cheeks heated. "You're not. We're just . . ."
"Bonding," Phantom supplied helpfully. And with dripping sarcasm, he added, "Just like you wanted."
Frostbite released a long-suffering sigh. "Ancients give me peace," he muttered under his breath.
Sam used the resounding silence that followed Frostbite's plea to whatever deity the Ancients were to curl her knees to her chest. Her body had warmed significantly, and she closed her eyes in contentment, relishing the foreign warmth rushing through her veins. Phantom's burst of ectoplasmic fire had essentially supercharged the firestones and the result was heavenly.
Eyes closed, her thoughts wandered, a muddled array of partial truths and fragmental discovery. She had so many questions, as she always did, but she also knew tact would be needed to receive even a crumb of sensical information from the enigmatic yeti king. Half the shit he told her didn't make any damn sense at all.
She thought again of Icefang, and her most recent disastrous encounter with the brute. Sadness wormed its way through her chest. She had felt his grief, rolling off him in waves. It had been so potent that she hadn't needed ghost powers to see it. What she had once thought to be a vast well of needless wrath was instead so much more than that.
"What happened to Icefang's family?" Sam asked quietly, only for Frostbite and Phantom to share a troubled look.
Frostbite said, "It is not my place to speak on his—"
"It has something to do with humans, doesn't it?" A sinking feeling plummeted into her stomach as she asked the question. She thought back on an earlier conversation she'd had with Tsuel, which felt so long ago now. She remembered Tsuel's unease at her questioning the history between humans and the yeti. Even then she'd known something dark and foreboding dwelled, buried deep in grim shadows—and Frostbite had not wanted her to know.
Frostbite's long silence was answer enough.
Sam's eyes burned. "I'm sorry. I had no idea. I just thought he was an asshole."
"What do you know?" Frostbite asked carefully. His expression was unreadable though his eyes were critical as he studied her.
She shook her head. "Not much. I've just . . . picked up on some things here and there. But I'm not stupid. I knew there was something that happened between your kind and mine. I just don't know what it is."
Frostbite released a long breath. He shifted in his large rocking chair, claws rapping against a well-worn wooden arm. "You are correct."
Though she'd already had strong suspicion, hearing it confirmed made that sinking feeling in her stomach roil with both guilt and trepidation. Her voice was brittle as she asked, "What happened?"
"There was once a settlement of humans in this realm," Frostbite said, "It has been many, many moons since they have lived here."
"How long is many?" she asked.
"By your standard of time, it would have been just over twelve centuries ago now."
Sam stiffened in her chair. "Wait, that's like twelve hundred years!"
"It is not like twelve hundred years, human girl," Frostbite said, "it is twelve hundred years. Beyond that, even."
Sam gaped at the yeti king, shaking her head. "That's insane. I didn't realize when you said that you guys are long lived that you mean that long."
Frostbite nodded. "Spirits do not age as mortal creatures do. We are not bound by the same laws of liminality that govern your realm. To us, such passing of time is inconsequential. The perishing of Icefang's family is very much still fresh in his hearts."
"What happened?" Sam asked softly.
"There was . . . an altercation." Frostbite's face was grave. "Between our kind and the human settlement."
"An altercation?" Uneasiness welled within her. "What kind of altercation?"
"You will have to ask him that yourself, child."
"The dude just tried to rip my throat out," she said, aghast. "I'm not asking him anything!"
Frostbite's black lips thinned into a rueful smile. "Icefang is not so single-minded to ignore a command that I have given him in favor of seeing your demise. His earlier charge was a mere bluff. He will not disobey me and harm you, I assure you."
Sam stared at him in bewilderment. "But then why did you guys intervene?"
"Because while there was no true threat in his charge, it was still an inacceptable slight of aggression, and one I do not condone. The yeti have long ascended beyond our baser instincts." Frostbite said. "But, at times, we are all prone to our own outbursts. You are not just our guest, but a very integral part of our future. My wish is to see him respect you as such."
"My father is right," Phantom sighed. "Icefang had no intention to attack you. I would have known. And I would have stopped him myself if it came to it."
Sam narrowed her eyes at the ghost, but she couldn't refute what he'd told her. Phantom, despite her grievances with him, had been true to his word in not letting any harm come to her in this realm. She'd at first thought them mere coincidences, the few times he'd intervened on her behalf, but she was beginning to realize that he always jumped to her aide when she needed it most. The realization was jarring as it speared awkwardly through her. She looked away from his acid green gaze uncomfortably and shifted her attention back to Frostbite.
"Did humans start the war, too? With the ghosts?" she asked.
Frostbite's brows rose in surprise. "No," he said, "all of the Infinite Realms, the Mortal Realm included, are to blame for that."
Sam's brows pinched. "Meaning?"
"I did not wish to have this conversation so prematurely, as you have much to learn yet about the way our world functions," he said. He frowned at Sam, his face cast in shadow by his furrowed brow. He raked a claw absently through the longer fur at his jawline.
"We need to tell her," Phantom said. The ghost and the yeti king shared a long look with each other, their eyes hard. Then Phantom added, "We don't really have the time to fill her in on a millennium of history, father. Sam's interest is genuine. I don't sense any malice in her at all."
Sam blushed at the intrusion into the minefield of her emotions and narrowed her eyes at the ghost. He shot her an apologetic look.
But Phantom's words had seemed to resonate with the yeti king, because after a beat of silence in which he mulled them over, Frostbite said, "Very well."
The room exploded with blinding blue light.
Sam gasped, her eyes wide with wonder on the conjured sphere of cold blue energy that undulated at the tips of Frostbite's icy claws. Even after two months spent in the Far Frozen, she was still stunned by the effortless display of elemental power that the yeti so casually demonstrated. It was like magic.
Frostbite said, "Our world is a matrix of alternate dimensions and realities, each more strange and different than the last. We share a quan—"
"A quantum mechanical link that influences the evolution of the Multiverse," Sam stated, her voice monotone. She'd heard this already in one of his many lectures. "Yeah, yeah, I get that. But what does that mean?"
"Ah, so you do listen." Frostbite smiled.
The rippling sphere in Frostbite's hand swelled. Cerulean tendrils curled away from the center, twisted high to form intricate shapes that branched off in various directions. The energy crawled in ascent until it formed a full circle around the glowing center, then solidified into ice. The whole thing remained suspended midair around Frostbite's hand due to the raw energy still surging within its center, almost like a beating heart.
It was beautiful. A work of art, really. Sam's fingers twitched in her lap. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch the gleaming arcs of ice. Even Phantom seemed intrigued by his father's demonstration. Their eyes flicked, drawn together for a mere instant, before flitting away.
"It's a bit rudimentary, but this diagram is reminiscent of the Multiverse," Frostbite said. He lifted his clawed hand higher so light from the center of the undulating sphere refracted each icy tendril. The entire room danced with pools of white and blue. With his hand, he pointed to the bright blue-white center. "This, Sam, is your realm. It is what stabilizes the entire Multiverse and assists our dynamic equilibrium. Essentially, the Infinite Realms is the flipside to the Mortal Realm."
He pointed to little glowing spheres that orbited the Mortal Realm, spinning like tiny planets around a sun. "And these are the Realms."
"Like the Far Frozen?" Sam asked.
"Indeed." Frostbite said. "They are infinite and ever changing. Particles of reality, strewn into the entirety of space, time, matter, and energy."
Then Frostbite's pointer claw drifted to the outermost layer and the gaps in between Realms, a thick band of swirls and shapes. Sam noticed then that it was this layer that lacked any sort of conformity. It was the most random. Chaotic, almost, in contrast to the elegance and uniformity of the others. It was also the largest. "And this," Frostbite continued, "is the realm of the deceased, the—"
"Ghosts," Sam finished, her voice a mere whisper.
"Yes, ghosts," Frostbite agreed. "Energy is constantly being recycled back and forth between each of our realms, and the Outerworlds, where the ghosts live."
Sam stared hard at the diagram, unable to fully grasp the enormity of what he was telling her. It was making her head spin. In all her years, she'd believed there to be two worlds. Her own, and the Ghost Zone . . . but this? It was incomprehensible. She shook her head. "I think my brain is melting again."
"Don't overcomplicate it," Phantom said, shrugging. "These worlds exist, and they don't. Some are more stable, like the Far Frozen, which is the closest link in the quantum chain to your world, and some are just . . . nothing."
She arched her brow at him. "Worlds of nothing?"
He shrugged again.
"And you've been to them?"
"Some of them, sure," he said. "I've done a lot of traveling."
"Traveling." The world rolled off her tongue like it was foreign. "For what?"
"Stuff." His face had lapsed into its blank neutrality that she was beginning to loathe.
"That's helpful, thank you," she deadpanned. Then she turned her gaze once again to the luminous diagram of worlds within worlds within worlds—and stared at it. She marveled again at the intricate network of spheres and tiny glowing particles, and at the webs and helixes interspersed around them. "So, this is like super cool and all . . . but what does this have to do with anything?"
Frostbite frowned at her as his diagram disintegrated in a burst of sparkling snowflakes. "You remind me of my children," he grumbled, though he placed an arm fondly around Phantom's shoulders. "Always wanting to know the answers, never the information between."
Phantom grimaced and shrugged the yeti's arm free. "Would you stop," he groaned. "You're embarrassing me in front of the human."
The yeti's characteristic mirth returned as he released a boisterous laugh, revealing a wall of shiny white teeth.
"My father enjoys reveling in the emotional distress of others, didn't you know?" Phantom said dryly to her, his expression unamused. "Apparently it's funny."
"It is when it's you," Sam said without thinking, which caused Frostbite to bark with laughter once again.
"I see how it is. Gaining up the ghost kid. Real mature."
"Hah," Sam laughed, "as if you're a kid."
It was the wrong thing to say. Sam realized it the moment that the damning words sailed from her lips. Images of his broad muscled and shirtless form flashed behind her eyes, and it was all she could do to keep from burying her face in her hands. Her face grew hot as she blushed furiously.
Phantom was gaping at her in confusion, his brows raised.
Frostbite looked between Sam and Phantom as if he could not understand what had just transpired. "I believe we may have strayed from our initial topic," he said. "Shall we resume?"
"Yes!" Her response was too quick and much too loud to be casual. She blushed harder at their surprised expressions and tried again. "Uh, yeah, that would be great."
Frostbite nodded. Then he finally told her the truth.
They were called phantasms, a lethal subspecies of ghosts formed and controlled by The Ghost King. They seemed unimposing at first glance, but what they lacked in corporeality, they made up for in numbers and strength. Faint and translucent, their rippling bodies shared a subdivided core that constantly pulsated with the frequencies of their alpha, Pariah Dark. Right now, they prowled the material world as well as several other dimensions, lurking in formless shadows and targeting their prey.
Next were the draugrs. Forcefully reanimated with their gnarled and twisted bones, they bore the crest of the Ghost King on their shining plated armor. They were awful, demented creatures, which could inspire fear in even the most seasoned of warriors. Attacks from them were rare, as they required large rifts to form in the fabric of whatever dimension they targeted.
And even stronger still were the behemoths.
"They are the monsters of all monsters," Frostbite murmured in a voice that sent chills storming down Sam's spine. "Very rare, as they require great energy to form and control, but they are deadly. Their breaths bleed poison. Some are as big as mountains. They are the remains of beings from both past and present, from worlds far beyond our own."
Sam was thankful for her empty stomach because she doubted food would withstand the churning.
"Are they all poisonous?" she asked, her thoughts straying to Phantom's ruined arm, to Sleetjaw's worry and pressing need to heal it.
Phantom and Frostbite shared an uneasy glance, but it was Phantom who said. "Kind of."
She furrowed her brow at him, urging him to continue.
"The ghosts in your realm—in all of Dark's army, really—aren't natural. They're forcefully reanimated. He raised the draugrs from somewhere else, but the phantasms are from the Mortal Realm."
Sam blanched. "What?"
Phantom's blank expression betrayed nothing, though his eyes danced with firelight as they stared intently into her own, unblinking. "We don't know how, but Dark terraformed your world to suit the development of phantasms. They aren't naturally forming so they're not the same as regular ghosts. They're not sapient like we are. They're . . . wrong."
Frostbite nodded. "We have conducted studies here in our labs on the samples that my son has brought us and have found your world to be severely contaminated. It is a world of breeding poison."
Sam's ears roared with crackling fire and her own descent into shock and anguish. Frostbite and Phantom were quiet as she stared down at her knees, letting her absorb the information for as long as she needed to. When she looked up, they were both studying her with the same intense, calculative expressions.
"What . . ." She shook her head. "What did you mean when you said that all of the Infinite Realms are to blame for the war?"
"For as long as I can remember, ghosts have always been misunderstood beings," Frostbite said. "Our balance and spirituality have been long compromised. There was once a time when travel between worlds was possible, when the flow of energy was languid and unhindered, free amidst the Infinite Chain."
"Okay?" Sam drawled. "And that means what, exactly?"
"It means, human girl, that we have lost sight of what it means to be a ghost. Ghosts are, by definition, manifestations of life and reminiscence. Artifacts, if you will." Frostbite's jaw tensed. "Unfortunately, they have been long viewed by many as . . . lesser beings. Monsters, even."
Sam stiffened, shame trickling through her. She had thought that too, once. And sure, she still didn't know where she stood on her opinion of ghosts, but she finally recognized that there was a lot more to learn than she'd initially anticipated. Perhaps . . .
Perhaps Paulina had been on to something, after all.
Sam shook her head as an intense bout of emotion roiled through her. Unease, grief, shame, anger, at even the faintest inkling of hope—all of it an intermingled mess of bullshit that twisted like a knife through her insides. She cleared her throat, and said, "That doesn't really explain how the war started."
"Pariah Dark's story will be told to you by Great Elder, who resides in the Cave of Writings, at the peak of Cinomrah. That is where you shall learn the rest of this tale, human girl," Frostbite said. "It is also where you shall learn of your destiny."
"Awesome," she drawled in her usual monotone. "When do we leave?"
"When you are ready."
Sam gave him a flat look. "Figured you'd say that," she deadpanned. "So, what happens during the raids? You guys just get wrecked by phantasms every blue moon or something?"
"Our twin moons are not blue now nor are they ever, but you are correct that it is often the phantasms that breach our world, though this morning's attack was from draugrs. They are much, much worse to face in battle," Frostbite said.
"But you won, I take it?"
"Indeed. They yeti are a formidable people," Frostbite replied. His usually cheerful face was drawn taut with the grimmest of lines. "They come in massive numbers and swarm us, straight through the rifts in the fabric of our dimension. We have yet to cover the structure a realm, so I apologize if this is somewhat confusing. I have always prided the Far Frozen being something of a stronghold, but the phantasms are growing more and more powerful. The draugrs, too. We have trouble keeping them at bay at times."
"I'll say," Phantom muttered in agreement.
Frostbite's eyes seemed to lose themselves in the flickering orange flames that raged like an inferno in his study's fireplace. She could see his undiluted grief—grief she had witnessed only distant remnants of once before—resurface like a tidal wave. Firelight lit his furred profile and became warped in the details of his curled icy horns.
She fidgeted with a strand of her soft hair as she studied the yeti king. "You lost someone, too," she observed, her tone cautious but gentle.
"We have all paid dearly for this war, Sam," Frostbite murmured.
"Even you?"
"Even me." He looked down at his clawed hands. She watched the pale bones in his frozen arm shift as he grasped a locket attached to a chain around his thick neck. Due to his tousled white fur, she hadn't noticed it before. His claws fidgeted with the mechanism until the locket snapped open. Inside, was a crystal. "It was long ago when I lost her."
"Her. . .?" Sam inquired softly. She resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his furred arm, her heart aching for this pained creature.
"Yes." His voice hoarsened. "My mate . . . Noraljus."
"Was it one of the draugrs?" she asked. Empathy lanced through her. She could see it, his pain, just as she could feel her own. So much loss in this world—in these worlds, rather. The knuckles of her hand turned white as she gripped the silky strands of hair with which she'd been fidgeting.
"It was not a draugr. She died long before the war."
Sam's brows furrowed. "Then how did she . . .?"
Frostbite's voice was as cold as ice when he said, "Ghosts. She was murdered by ghosts."
I was SO CLOSE to having this chapter done last Sunday, which would have continued my streak of biweekly update (my goal). But I just couldn't get it. Then I was so busy all week that I never got the chance to sit down and work on it until tonight. Ugh. Pushing out continuous updates on a longfic with a hectic life/work schedule is intense, man.
I really want to improve my writing and clean up my style a bit. I'm trying not to be too superfluous and avoid the dreaded purple prose. If things still seem overly wordy, don't be afraid to let me know, haha. I just love descriptive imagery, but I can also understand that it can become redundant if it's overdone.
All that said, I do apologize for all the angst in this chapter. Don't worry, some wholesome content is coming, I promise! We're actually at a really exciting point right now. This is a rewrite of a very old story that I never finished years and years ago. The content in this chapter is about where the first iteration left off, so going forward will be 100% fresh content. Though this was heavily rewritten since its predecessor and is mostly fresh anyway, it is just so exciting for me to finally get to areas of the story I had never been able to reach the first time. Chapter sixteen, which would have been eleven in the first version, is one I have had written for like five or six years now. I can't freaking wait to post it.
Thanks again to everyone who has stuck with me so far! You guys are the best!
*Sleetjaw belongs to CaptainOzone