The fire had dimmed to glowing embers in front of Elsa when Anna finally tired of crossing the village with as many Hellos and Hi-theres as her throat allowed. She flopped down beside her with an exaggerated sigh while Kristoff settled more carefully – the plaza was practically empty now, its denizens scurried away by Anna's overeager and orphaned effort.
"Nobody say I didn't try." Anna slouched way too much for it not to be intentional and blew a heavy raspberry, searching for something to occupy her hands.
"Productive?" Garret asked, an amused grin on his face.
"I was going to say 'exhausting', but sure, let's go with productive." She brightened slightly. "I did get a couple kids and an adorable grandpa to wave back! But…" Her smile transformed into a pensive pout. "…he may have confused me with one of said kids."
"Still counts as a win," Kristoff said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Elsa watched the exchange with a mix of fondness and guilt. Even here, even after everything they'd learned, Anna was trying so hard to build something, anything, that could get her closer to the Northuldra. If not to make things better, at least to understand who they were.
"You should go to bed," Elsa said softly, her eyes flying to the large tent where the Northuldra council had convened. "All of you. They might still take time. Tomorrow will be... important."
Anna shook her head. "Not letting you stay up all night thinking too hard."
"I don't—"
"You do," Anna and Garret said in perfect unison, while Kristoff flicked a single finger as if he had been their cue.
Elsa rolled her eyes. "Fine. But first... there's something I've been meaning to ask."
Anna tilted her head curiously. Elsa sought Garret's eyes, silently checking what he certainly knew she'd check. The quick up-tilt of his chin was more than indicative.
"Would you... would you like to go with me tomorrow? To speak with some of them? Before we leave?" Elsa's voice grew quieter. "Ask about Mother? Garret thinks it might help break the… you know."
The smile that bloomed like a sunflower across Anna's face was answer enough, but she gave an enthusiastic nod anyway. "Of course! Yes! I mean, if they'll let us..."
"I heard one of them – an old lady named Kara, I think? – mention her a lot," Kristoff said, his free arm trying to catch falling leaves in the light breeze. "Maybe you could start there?"
"You wish to speak with this old lady," a new voice said, a papery yet energetic rasp. "About Iduna."
In an uncanny coincidence, a figure had emerged behind them, drawing a few gasps. Elsa tensed, her hand tightening around her sister's. An older woman now approached with surprisingly sprightly steps, leaning on a gnarled wooden staff she didn't even seem to need. Her weathered face was almost inscrutable in the growing moonlight. Her skin was fairer than most Northuldra they'd seen, her eyes darker, her hair shorter.
Kristoff flushed, his pursed lips giving way to an interesting mix of careful suspicion and shame on his face. "Oh, uh, you heard that?"
"That and more," she said with a wiggle of her eyebrows. "Nothing goes by without me hearing about it."
How she had learned and come so fast was beyond her, but Elsa could not care less. She stood, gently pulling Anna up with her.
"We would be grateful to ask you a few questions, Ma'am. Of course, only if you are willing. We know it is late..."
Kara waved a dismissive hand. "Unlike the fire, I still have some energy left. Come, sit with me. The one over there has just been lit," she said, pointing to the other side of the plaza.
After exchanging a curious glance, Elsa and Anna followed. Kara lowered herself onto a woven mat near the newly roaring bonfire, gesturing for them to do as well. Elsa settled hesitantly while Anna crashed down cross-legged, her eyes wide and mouth half open in anticipation. Kristoff knelt beside her and Garret hung back slightly, close enough to hear but giving some space.
"What do you want to know?" Kara simply asked, her eyes transfixed on the flames.
"Everything!" Anna said. "Did you know her when she was little? How was she?"
"Your mother," Kara began after a small chuckle, "was a special child. Even as a babe, she heard things the rest couldn't." A distant smile touched her crinkled face. Elsa noticed it illuminated her just like Anna's smiles did. "Your people called her kjennende datter."
"The daughter who knew…" Elsa translated in a low voice, half as realization, and half for Garret's sake.
Anna leaned forward, hanging on every word. "What do you mean, she could hear things?"
"Something spoke to her," Kara said. "Not in words, but in feelings. In the rustle of leaves, the sighs of breeze, the wails of storms. She understood it in a way few ever have."
Elsa's breath caught. Her heart had started beating just a tiny bit faster. "Was it... like me? With my powers?"
Kara's eyes sharpened. "Your powers are your own, child. Iduna had a connection, but it wasn't her body's. It was her mind's." Her gaze drifted, lost in memory. "She would wander the forest for hours, in her own world. The village worried, at first, but something always brought her home safe."
Anna's hand found hers just as Elsa pictured it – a little girl with their mother's face, alone among ancient trees, guided by whispers only she could hear. She glanced at her sister and saw her own emotions there: wonder, sorrow, a desperation to know more.
"Did she ever..." Elsa's voice wavered slightly. "Did she ever talk about what she heard? What whoever that was said to her?"
Kara considered the question, her head tilting. "Not in so many words. But there was a wisdom to her, even as a child. A sense that she knew things, understood things, that the others couldn't." A rueful chuckle escaped her. "Drove her poor mother to her wit's end, the way she'd seemingly vanish into thin air, and turn up hours later with flowers in her hair and stories of impossible adventures on her tongue."
Anna adorned a wide grin at that. It sounded achingly familiar to them both – Elsa knew how many times Anna had turned around to find her gone, only to reappear with ice crystals dancing around her fingers. And she also knew how many times she'd looked for Anna all around the castle, only to lift her head towards the towers and see her perched there, as if reaching for the sun.
"She loved the wind most of all," Kara continued. "Said it sang to her, called her to dance with it. And dance she did – like a leaf on the breeze, all grace and joy."
Elsa let a small, choked sound escape, and Anna reached for her other hand, intertwining their fingers. She could sense the tremble in her sister's grasp too, could see the shine of unshed tears in her eyes too, could feel the flutter in her heart too. She heard Garret pace a single step forward and turned to give him a smile she willed as bright as she could.
"We've never heard of Mother in such a way…" Elsa managed as she faced Kara again, her voice thick with emotion. "Nobody even mentioned her. I feared the Northuldra had tried to forget her..."
"I do not indulge in easy hatred of your people like most of the village," Kara explained, her eyebrow lifted in a surprisingly mischievous arch. "Hatred is for those who do not see past their own nose." She put her cheek over her staff's wide extremity, her voice slowing down. "Indeed, the only time Iduna dear came back and didn't speak of her formless friend, she mentioned a boy. About her age, in everything her opposite yet in nothing her contrary. A level-headed, collected boy, curious about how the Northuldra lived, and eager to get to know her."
Anna raised a hand to her heart and nodded, as if validating what was being said to her. "He always was the calm one."
"…so they had met before the ceremony," Elsa thought aloud.
"They met again and again," Kara explained. "They barely spoke, but they played – tag, of all things." A chuckle rattled her body. "Just the two of them, running through the forest. I suppose that was the point."
Anna seemed to melt even further on her spot, leaning against Elsa's shoulder. "You knew her, personally," she reasoned. "I don't think just anyone could have told us so much."
Kara, her face now a little harsher, waved the observation away as it was too obvious to even pronounce.
"I did, child. I did. She had the world waiting for her. I thought she'd died in that senseless war. But she made a life for herself." Her gaze turned even more piercing, and Elsa couldn't quite point out why it looked so wrong on her. "You... you have a great task ahead of you."
Anna straightened, pride driving her voice louder. "We're here to help," she said firmly. "Whatever it takes to clear the smoke."
Kara studied her for a long moment, then nodded, a flicker of contentment flashing across the imperceptible smile she wore. "Your mother had that same fire in her. That same determination to do what needed to be done, no matter the cost. You now need only prove your will."
She leaned forward and Anna stood as well, aiding her up when she did not need any help as far as Elsa could tell.
"I have one last question…" Anna started.
"It is late now, child," Kara said, her voice heavy with weariness. She gave Anna an affectionate pat on her left cheek as thanks. "And these old bones need their rest. But please, daughters of Iduna – the spirits choose, and can retract their choice." Her eyes found Elsa's, holding them intently. "Be careful as to not squander their trust."
"But–" Anna tried her luck for a second time, but only received a headshake as reply.
There was a faint, almost imperceptible lift in Kara's shoulders. Her lips curved upward in a half-smile, the fleeting expression passing across her features like a wisp of cloud crossing the sun. She turned and shuffled back into the darkness, leaving a trail of yet untold stories in her wake.
As Kara disappeared, a heavy silence descended upon the plaza. Elsa glanced at Anna, seeing her own yearning, a good lump of more-questions-please and a touch of unease.
"Main takeaway: Forest really likes cryptic," Anna said, outstretched hand falling limp.
"At least we're all lost the same," Kristoff added with a shrug.
"She knew her so well," Anna continued after falling back down, her voice barely above a whisper and her eyes following the now distant silhouette. "The way she described her, the stories she told... It's like we're finally getting a glimpse of who she really was. Before..."
Her words trailed off, but Elsa understood the unspoken sentiment. Before their mother became Queen of Arendelle. Before she left this world behind. Before she carried secrets they were only now beginning to unravel. Before she'd stopped being Northuldra to anyone but their father.
"She didn't let me ask." Anna's brow furrowed, a surge of disappointment dropping her shoulders. "You don't think...?"
Elsa's nodded at the implication – she had wondered about it herself. The fondness in Kara's voice, the familiarity with which she spoke of their mother's childhood, the way she'd just appeared as if summoned...
But before she could voice her own swirling thoughts, a hush fell over the village. Yelena emerged from the council tent, swept the plaza and signaled for the guards posted at the door to boom their horns. She moved to the center, commanding attention without uttering a word as the village gathered, coming from all sides, hustling towards their chief's call.
"The spirits have spoken. Ahtola itself has spoken," she announced, her voice carrying across the Northuldra. "And we will listen. The Arendellians..." She paused, her gaze finding Elsa and Anna behind the crowd. "...will be granted access to the forest. If the Fire Spirit is to find them, it will not be within our village. They will go to it."
A wave of murmurs passed through the villagers, a mix of surprise and trepidation. Elsa saw the weight of their stare, heard the uncertainty that hung in the air.
"But they cannot go alone," Yelena continued. "The council has decided to grant them guides, those who know the forest and its dangers. Who among you will step forward?"
For a long moment, no one moved. Elsa's heart sank, the general distrust palpable. But then, a lone figure detached from the crowd.
"If someone has to," Honeymaren said, her voice steady despite the whispers that followed her declaration.
Elsa caught the flash of surprise on Yelena's face, quickly masked. She opened her mouth to speak, but another voice cut through the hushed whispers.
"I'm coming too," Ryder announced, stepping up beside his sister. His jaw was set, his blue eyes hard as they swept over the Arendellians. "Someone has to make sure they don't bring more trouble."
Honeymaren shot him a look that Elsa was sure would have petrified anyone else, but he ignored it, his gaze fixed on Yelena. The village chief studied them both for a moment that seemed to stretch to hours, then nodded.
"Very well," she said. "At first light, you will lead them into the forest. Show them the paths, do not forget our ways. The spirits will be watching. As for you…" she continued, now looking at Elsa. "Come to me before leaving tomorrow. I would speak to you."
With that, she turned and strode back into the council tent without waiting for an answer, the crowd dispersing with even harsher whispers and murmurs. The weight of the day's revelations settled atop Elsa's stomach, the uncertainty of what the trial would bring a stark contrast to her early hope in the morning.
"So… we're leaving at dawn," Kristoff said, his voice low and his hand absently rubbing the fur over Sven's neck. "Who knows how long we'll be out there."
"I'll make sure we have everything we need," Garret replied. "Though our guides will probably have their own ideas about what's necessary."
Elsa's gaze drifted to where Honeymaren and Ryder stood at the edge of the village, deep in conversation. Honeymaren's face was somber, drawn low, while Ryder's held a stubborn cross-armed stance as he seemed to vigorously justify himself to his sister.
"They didn't have to volunteer," Anna murmured, following her line of sight. "Not after everything..."
"No, they didn't," Elsa agreed softly. Her heart clenched at the thought of the siblings putting themselves at risk, at Ryder's quasi-certain conflicting sentiments. He had volunteered for his sister's sake, she had no doubt about it. "Let us not disappoint."
As if sensing her gaze drifting near her, Honeymaren glanced over, her eyes meeting Elsa's. She signaled to her brother with a quick bob towards the huts Elsa could guess was his cue to leave and slowly made her way towards them, her posture visibly uncomfortable but her eyes sharp and assessing.
"Okay, listen up," she said, her voice direct and matter-of-fact. "The Fire Spirit's territory isn't exactly a walk in the park. It's deep in the forest, and the spirit can be... temperamental." She furtively touched her left arm, the bandage surrounding it. "The Fire itself is fierce, easily angered," Honeymaren continued. "In its area air's heavy, it's hard to breathe, your feet can catch on fire if you're not careful. It's a bad time all around as it is, we don't need to make it worse."
"Does it attack on sight?" Garret asked.
"Yes, but under specific circumstances. Respect is key," she said, her auburn eyes sweeping over the group. "The spirits aren't cute deer you can gawk at. They're ancient, powerful, and they want respect. Follow our lead, don't wander off, don't talk loud, don't attack animals, don't break any branches, and for spirits' sake, don't touch anything that looks like it might burn you."
She paused, her gaze meeting each of theirs in turn – Kristoff's steady, Garret's sharp, Anna's determined and Elsa's...
Whatever mess I must look like now.
"Just so we're clear, we'll guide you," Honeymaren said, a hint of resignation in her tone, "but we're not your babysitters. You're responsible for your own actions out there. Make smart choices, and the spirit will judge you. Our job is to get you there, then get you back here if you pass the trial."
Elsa heard the unspoken challenge – a test of their resolve, their commitment to this journey and all it entailed.
"What if we… what if we don't pass the trial?" Anna got a step closer, her fingers betraying the nervousness her voice tried to conceal.
"There most likely won't be anything to bring back," Honeymaren answered with a shrug. "Any other questions?" No response for a few seconds. "Good. See you tomorrow," she said simply, then turned back on her heels.
That seemed to have the chilling effect of a full winter on the group. Anna threw a nervous laugh and scratched her own arm. Elsa herself didn't know what to make of such information.
"With that fantastically encouraging talk, we should get some rest," Kristoff said when Honeymaren got far enough, his attempt at lightheartedness an awkward but appreciated thought. "Dawn is always too early."
Anna nodded, the fatigue in the lines of her face not enough to deter the now much more apparent concern. She reached for Elsa's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Try to sleep, okay? I know it's a lot to process, but we'll face it together. Like always."
Elsa managed a small smile, returning the gesture. "I will. Promise. Rest up well too."
With murmured goodnights, Anna and Kristoff retreated to their hut, Olaf trailing behind with half closed eyes. Elsa lingered a moment, her gaze drawn back to the forest edge where Honeymaren and Ryder had stood. But the siblings were gone, vanished into the deeper parts of the village where she hadn't dared venture yet.
She sensed Garret at her side, a steady presence in the tornado of her thoughts.
"Everything alright?" he asked quietly.
She let a slow and deliberate breath out, feeling the day's tensions drain from her body.
"I think so. It's just... a lot. And tomorrow..."
"Tomorrow is tomorrow's problem," Garret said, his voice gentle but firm. "For now, your biggest challenge is getting to sleep."
She turned to him then, catching the soft gleam of his eyes in the mix of moon and fire-shine. In that moment, with the weight of destiny pressing down upon her, he and Anna were a lifeline.
"I'll try," she said in her smallest voice, hoping he could hear the depths of gratitude layered into those simple words.
They made their way back to the guest huts that had been – somewhat reluctantly – provided for them. Garret stood a respectful distance away while she got to the entrance, ever mindful of appearances.
She hesitated for a moment, her hand coming up to the wooden railing at her right, then glanced at the hut next to hers. "Are you going to sleep now?"
Garret's gaze flicked to his own tent, then back to her. "I might stay up for a bit. Just to make sure everything's quiet."
Elsa's brows creased slightly. "You need rest too. We're going to have a long day. You don't have–"
He stepped closer, barely a foot. "I'll be fine. I just want to make sure everything's ready. Craft a few arrows, check the supplies we'll need."
The way his eyes idled on her, the gentle concern in his voice... Elsa understood. He wasn't just staying up to run inventory or scout the area. He was watching over them, making sure they felt safe.
"Okay," she said softly. "Promise you won't stay up too late?"
"No all-nighter." The warmth in his gaze made her heart flutter. "Sleep well, Your Majesty."
She almost scolded him at his use of her honorifics, then remembered that this wasn't her castle, and that she wasn't just settling in her room. He winked at her, the wink that always meant he wasn't answering any more questions, and Elsa watched him take up his position between her hut and Anna's. With a swift motion, he conjured a swirl of glittering ice crystals, the air around him shimmering with barely restrained magic. Elsa found herself leaning forward slightly, captivated by the intricate dance of frost and light she hardly had seen so fluid around him. Garret's brow furrowed in concentration as he began to shape the ice, his fingers moving with practiced precision.
First, a long, slender shaft took form. Elsa noticed the perfect symmetry, the way the ice sparkled like polished glass. Next, Garret focused on the arrowhead itself, coaxing the crystals into a wickedly sharp point.
Delicate fractal patterns etched themselves along the arrow's length – Elsa recognized some of them, the spirals and geometric shapes that mirrored those she often unconsciously created herself. There were others, unique to Garret, stocky and angular but beautiful in their own way.
With a final flourish, he added the fletching, three ice blades with an iridescent sheen. He held the completed arrow up to the light, examining it with a critical eye, before nodding in satisfaction and setting it aside. Elsa watched, a bittersweet smile unconsciously growing over her face as he repeated the process, each arrow a tiny fragment of deadly beauty.
"I prefer when you make statues," she said.
Garret glanced up, his eyes meeting hers across the short distance. A delicate smile tugged at his lips. "I do too."
Elsa felt an answering warmth bloom in her chest, a pang of something she still, after all this time, didn't quite have a name for. Her mind was racing with questions about tomorrow, about their mother, about the Fire Spirit... but knowing Garret was nearby, watching over her and her family, brought a measure of comfort as she stepped into her temporary accommodation.
The forest breeze blew through Honeymaren's hair, a chilled finger tracing on her skin as she watched the Arendellians gather at the village border. Their shadows stretched long in the thin light of dawn, stark silhouettes against the mist-shrouded trees beyond. Elsa and Anna's faces bore the haunted look of hard truths—old wounds Yelena surely hadn't pulled her punches over.
Honeymaren understood that look. The weight of the past, of stories she hadn't been there to see unfold, but was here to feel today. Her fingers absently traced the rough grain of her spear shaft, the wood a comforting reminder against the doubts eating at her.
"Told you yesterday, Maren. We don't have to do this. Especially not when Fire's involved," Ryder murmured at her back, surely sensing her uncertainty. Always her pestering, stubborn shadow, but still always there when she needed.
She turned to face him, catching the glint of worry in his eyes before he could bury it beneath suspicion.
"And who'd do this if we don't?" Honeymaren kept her voice pitched low, private in the morning bustle. "You saw how the entire village looked. No one else would've."
"Exactly my point. They don't trust them." Ryder's jaw flexed, his gaze flying to the Arendellians and back. "And neither should we."
The words settled bitter on her mind.
Trust. Such a fragile, fickle thing. But beneath Ryder's hard edges, she sensed honest worry. Not just for the village, but for her—the worry she always commended but never had the strength to endorse.
"The spirits do, you dolt," Honeymaren reminded him. "That counts for something."
Her hands moved of their own accord, checking her gear with practiced efficiency. Bowstring taut. Quiver full. Whetstone nestled close. Water skin brimmed and aconite poison bottle sealed tight. Same examples for Ryder, one spare each.
Her brother's silence wrapped around them, heavy as a winter cloak. She knew that silence—the helpless frustration bound by both duty and love. Ready to follow her into fire, even as every instinct screamed against it.
She also knew the hand in his right pocket was still clutching their father's pearl.
A movement grabbed her attention from the corner of her eyes. The not-so-Arendellian soldier approached, his gait measured. Garret, they called him. An outsider with ice in his veins. There was a steadiness to him, a grounded air of pragmatism she recognized from a lifetime of having to make do with what was available.
"Mind if we go over the route?" His voice was gravel and honey, distant politeness mixed with some deliberate uncertainty.
Honeymaren inclined her head.
Welcome distraction.
"The Fire Spirit's domain is about half a day's walk, if we follow the old hunting trails." The map opened like a moth's wing in her hands. "But there are... complications."
His gaze sharpened. "Such as?"
"The spirit doesn't stay in one place. It moves through these caverns." Her finger traced the roads she already knew, spiraling paths and hidden dangers beneath the harshest parts of the forest. "I know a few entrances, but we'll have to get inside to look. And it's not alone. There's uh... underlings around. Little flame thingies. They were peaceful. Before, I mean. Allegedly. Now they're vigils."
Understanding dawned in Garret's eyes, tempered with grim acceptance. "They were changed. Changed how?"
"Like most of everything in the forest, they're angry." Honeymaren's palm drifted unconsciously to her bandaged arm, phantom heat licking her skin. "The spirits' anger affects all sorts of creatures."
He absorbed this with a nod, pragmatism overriding any trace of surprise. "Good to know. Anything else we should watch for?"
She met his assessing stare with her own. No softness there, no coddling. Just a warrior's frank appraisal. "The heat will be intense. The ground itself burns in some places inside the caverns. And the spirit..." A shiver chased down her spine, memory foreboding. "It can come out of its hiding place sometimes. And when it attacks, it attacks without warning."
His expression remained impassive, but something passed in those sharp eyes of his.
"Appreciate it," he said simply. "The volunteering. And the heads-up. Truly."
Before Honeymaren could respond, the princess' voice interrupted the fragile moment. She practically vibrated with nervous energy, her smile bright enough to chase the mist itself. Beside her, their queen – Elsa, a sweet name – stood poised and regal.
"Ready when you are!" the princess – Anna, she recalled – sing-songed, though it was painfully obvious she was doing her best to mask a nervousness she didn't want her sister to watch. Behind her were her companions, Kristoff, the talking snowman and a reindeer whose name she couldn't remember, but it seemed well-taken care of.
Honeymaren turned back to the village—to Yelena's grave expression she hadn't quite expected, the warriors' smoldering suspicion, the tentative waves of wide-eyed children. Drawing a steady breath, she squared her shoulders beneath the familiar weight of her spear.
"Let's move," she declared, authority ringing in her words. "And remember, in the forest, we follow Northuldran ways. Keep your wits about you, and don't do anything stupid to provoke it. It being the forest, the spirit, the mist, freaking destiny itself. Stay close, stay quiet, and most importantly, stay alert."
She pinned each Arendellian with a piercing look. Then she pivoted, leading them into the waiting trees.
Line Break
Mist curled around their ankles. The forest was like an old friend to Honeymaren now; the crimson boughs arching overhead were her marks, a map dappled in light across their path. Ancient oaks stood sentinel as she led the way along trails carved deep in memory. Each twist and turn bowed with familiarity. The early parts she knew best – the Fire's territory she had avoided as much she could.
Behind her, the Arendellians moved with surprising grace, their steps light despite the unfamiliar terrain. But Honeymaren could feel Ryder's tension thrumming like a bowstring every time one of them strayed a bit too far – she paused at every fork in the path to let them catch up, brushing her hand against ancient bark for guidance and letting the forest's smell invigorate her. Sometimes, she wished she had inherited her father's gift.
When light climbed higher to its apex, piercing through the woven branches, they paused to rest beside a fallen log, its moss-laden bark a welcome respite. Honeymaren settled herself at a careful distance, close enough to watch but far enough to maintain the thin boundary between guide and guest.
Queen Elsa sat with effortless poise, her spine straight as a birch despite the morning's long walk. Princess Anna sprawled with considerably less decorum, her easy smile a startling contrast to the shadows in her sister's eyes.
"Miss Honeymaren?" Anna's voice broke the stillness, carrying that particular mix of hesitation and warmth that seemed uniquely hers. "Can I ask you something?"
"Honeymaren'll do," she answered, and that was all the encouragement Anna needed, though Honeymaren didn't miss how Ryder edged closer, his apparent indifference belied by the straight disdain in his eyes.
"Do you know an elder named Kara? She spoke with us last night..." Anna paused, her fingers absently creasing the fabric of her tunic in a gesture that reminded Honeymaren of herself when she was younger.
She noticed her brother's shoulders tightening. His hands kept flexing at his sides, a tell she also recognized from childhood – Ryder holding back words that wanted to burst free.
"Kara?" The name sounded foreign. She knew every elder in the village, could trace everyone's lineage for two generations. But 'Kara'... It rang hollow. Schooling her features into careful neutrality, Honeymaren met Anna's earnest gaze. "No. What did she tell you?"
The princess's eyes showed both excitement and confusion. "So much about Mother. How she could hear the wind, how the spirits favored her." Her smile faltered slightly. "Like, she seemed to know even more than Yelena did. Which is strange, right? Since Mother was her pupil? You sure there's no Kara? Maybe I'm not saying it right…"
Honeymaren's gut twisted. No one knew more about a student than their master – that was the whole point. For someone to claim they knew Iduna better than Yelena...
"There's no one named remotely like that and it wouldn't be possible anyway," Ryder replied in Honeymaren's stead, the words sharper than she'd have told them. "Our masters know their pupil's everything, their dreams, their loves, their fear… That's how we work. They're usually the parents, so if she was under Yelena, that means she was alone before that. No one could have known her better than Yelena."
The two sisters' faces fell at what he probably shouldn't have said that directly. They exchanged one perplexed look with their companions, but Anna was undeterred, her conviction clear as a lantern in the night.
"This one did," the princess insisted. "She told us about Mother's connection specifically to the Wind Spirit, how she played with our father, how they both met. Some of those things Yelena never mentioned and didn't know of when we told her. You sure there's no one named like that?"
Ryder's scoff cut through the air. The old pain in his voice grated like gravel underfoot.
"Besides Yelena, nobody ever talked about this Iduna anyway," he said, and Honeymaren did not like where his tone was taking his next words.
"Ryder..." she warned first, trying to smooth the edges of his grief. But he was already riling up, like he always did.
Her gaze was inexorably drawn to the sisters. In the overhead light, their faces were contrasts – Anna's open and honest, Elsa's a flawless mask of careful control. But beneath the surface, Honeymaren could clearly decipher worry worming itself in.
"Your mother was a traitor," Ryder said, but his voice wavered on the last word.
Anna's eyes widened, shock, indignation and hurt mingling.
"What? No, she wasn't–"
"She left us." Ryder's hands clenched at his sides, white-knuckled and trembling. "Left us to die while she ran off with your father. I don't know what to call that besides betrayal."
Honeymaren stood, her heart sharing the wounds that still festered beneath her brother's anger but not the reaction they drew.
"Ryder, stop. This isn't the time–"
He shrugged off her placating hand, his gaze never leaving the sisters. "You talk about her like she was just another rando. Do you have any idea what it's like? To lose a parent to the people who slaughtered yours?"
Elsa flinched as if struck, a crack splintering her careful composure. "I'm so sorry. I sympathize with your loss, but our mother–"
"Abandoned her people." Ryder's voice rose, raw, but his next words came softer. "If we'd had one more spirit-touched…"
Honeymaren saw the moment her brother realized what he'd revealed – how personal this was. But he didn't seem to care.
"Ryder!" she hissed, chest constricted. "Shut the hell–"
"She left, and he died." He was back to venom, corrosive and biting. "He'd still be here, if she'd only–"
"Enough!" Kristoff's shout shattered the tension as he stood, his broad frame now interposed between Ryder and the sisters. "That's enough. We're not doing this here. Not with you, and not before the trial."
"You! You're a Sami too, why are you–"
For a moment, Honeymaren thought Ryder might argue and feared her brother would try to physically tackle that big an adversary. But something in Kristoff's unyielding stance gave him pause. She sneaked a look at the others – Anna looked like she was barely holding herself from drawing her sword, her lips pursed and eyes shining with repressed tears, but she didn't look half as defeated as Elsa distracting herself by feeding the oddly expressive reindeer. Behind them, the one who worried her most was simply watching with his arms crossed, his now cold and hard eyes – Honeymaren could swear their green had just veered to blue – not leaving them both.
"Fine." Ryder spat the word like a curse, pivoting on his heel. "But don't expect me to break bread with traitor-kin."
He skulked ahead, his retreating form quickly swallowed by the crimson veil above him. Honeymaren watched him go, a surge of anger and annoyance rising in her throat at this fight she definitely hadn't needed. He always did this—got angry, stormed away—and then she'd find him later, sitting alone, staring at their father's old pearl like it held answers he couldn't bring himself to ask.
The silence that followed felt like a burial. Anna had now gone completely still, her usual warmth nowhere to be seen in her genuine irritation. Even Kristoff seemed uncertain as he walked back to them.
"Sorry about that," Honeymaren said, the words clipped. "Ryder... He took our father's death hard. Harder than most would."
Elsa nodded, compassion etched into her features. "Yelena told us it wasn't that long ago."
"Yeah. He was Ryder's master," Honeymaren continued, not really knowing why. The words tasted like ashes on her tongue. "They spent almost every hour together. When we lost him, it broke something in my brother. Doesn't excuse him, but it's doubly harder for him to be here. I assume this was also part of Yelena's speech this morning?"
Anna confirmed without a word, her gaze softening, the weight of her own losses reflected in those fathomless blue eyes. Honeymaren hated the sympathy she knew she'd now find in them.
"He said one more spirit-touched," Elsa asked in a slightly shaky voice, clearly impacted by what had just happened. "What did he mean?"
"My father... He was like your mother. We call them spirit-touched. Attuned to the forest, in ways the rest of us aren't. They navigate better, know how to interact with the spirits better, and they even get a special thing going with one. We only have Yelena these days, and hers is with water." A depthless sigh scraped past her lips. "He used to say he could smell the land's heartbeat, whatever that meant."
Then the quiet grew thick and oppressive, broken only by the mournful sighing of breeze through leaves. Honeymaren's fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms.
"It's always easier to blame someone, to say that it wasn't his fault–"
She caught herself at that, could feel their stares, heavy with unspoken questions and tentative understanding. But she couldn't bring herself to meet their eyes, to see the pity or the judgment lurking.
"Finish up," she said abruptly, the words harsh and grating. "The Fire Spirit is waiting. I'll have Ryder fall in line."
And without waiting for a response, she turned and strode after him, her steps quick and purposeful, as if she could outpace the ghosts that clung to her heels.
The forest pressed in around them, the once-comforting embrace of the trees now more and more suffocating, claustrophobic. Honeymaren fixed her eyes on the path ahead, on Ryder's silhouette weaving between the trunks. He had been even less willing to talk than the worst she'd ever seen him.
Oh, baby brother.
But the Fire was close now, she couldn't afford the time.
The first sign had been the air itself, slightly heavier at first then thickening in Honeymaren's lungs until each breath felt like inhaling the smoke from a doused campfire. It coated her throat, hot and pervasive. The familiar scent of autumn, the comforting crimson and gold she'd known since she'd been a kid, slowly bled into something darker, more primal. Ancient. Untamed. Leaves were still there, only now going from violet to blood red. Barks were eaten away, blackened and peeled back here and there.
Still can't figure out how these trees are alive at all.
Dirt below their feet had turned ochre, scintillating specks of ignited sand breaking beneath each of her steps. Even the earth betrayed the change, radiating a soft but unnatural heat that seeped through the soles of her boots and into her bones. A warning, or maybe a welcome, from the spirit that called this dangerous land home.
"Kinda obvious but we're almost there," Honeymaren murmured, her words barely stirring the oppressive air. "The Fire Spirit's territory starts here."
As if summoned by her voice, the first flames sprang into existence, dancing between the twisted trees. They bobbed and weaved like mischievous children, leaving no trace of their passage save the shimmer of heat behind. Smaller than she remembered, their tips barely reached her knee when they deigned to stay immobile – which was rare, their very nature needed them moving not to extinguish themselves.
"They're kind of cute," Anna whispered, her voice both apprehensive and genuinely fond.
"From a distance," Kristoff agreed, his words a low rumble echoing around the not-so-dead trees. One hand rested on his crossbow, the other hovered near Anna's sword arm. "I don't think it's smart to get all close and personal with a flame."
Must be nice, seeing it for the first time.
Elsa's glance spoke volumes, however. Honeymaren could get that one, the burden that came with responsibility.
A flash of movement, a glint of flame where there shouldn't be. Honeymaren's gaze snapped to the lone sparkling that had broken from its playmates, drifting closer as if curious. Its light painted dancing shadows on the ground while it hopped from place to place.
"Ryder, don't move!" she whispered.
He had already frozen in front of her, waiting for it to bore itself out and leave, but it seemed particularly interested in him. Honeymaren's focus was razor-sharp, every nerve screaming at her to act, but she forced herself to stay, trusting Ryder to hold his ground. The little flame spun and jumped, almost playful, but way too close for comfort.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa shifted, her hand brushing against Garret's arm—but Honeymaren quickly realized her focus wasn't on him. The queen's gaze was locked on the flame, her expression alert yet... distant, as though caught in a spell only she could see.
Its light danced in Elsa's eyes. Her breath hitched not out of fear, Honeymaren was sure, but in something else entirely. A fascination, maybe?
It was Garret's slight movement—a subtle pace closer—that seemed to break Elsa's trance. She straightened, her fingers curling briefly against his arm as if anchoring herself back in the moment. Her eyes sharpened, her readiness returning, but the hesitation hadn't escaped Honeymaren's notice. Whatever Elsa saw in that moment, she couldn't guess. She went back to the small flame as it spun, jumped, bounced, and didn't leave. It stayed, stayed, stayed…
…and darted an inch too close.
Honeymaren threw herself forward without thought, almost against her will. Muscle memory guided her to bat away the flames that dared threaten her brother. The blade passed harmlessly through the crown, a whisper of heat and a mocking dance of light. By the time she regretted her move, the damage was done.
The flames' curiosity turned to anger, yellowish blasting into violent blue as they converged on the intruders.
"On the right!" Garret's voice cut through the sudden explosion of heat.
The first arrow loose passed by Honeymaren faster than lightning. It broke into an icy barrier rising from the earth and blocked three balls of blazing hot darting towards her.
Beside him, Elsa's magic sang a different song, her power as precise and controlled as his was raw.
"Follow me!" she instructed.
Delicate bursts of frost danced, drawing the spirits' attention with their mist, following her hand darts to her sides that seemed so natural to her. Where Garret's ice was a shield, her snow was a funnel.
When the spirits regrouped, Anna instinctively moved to guard Elsa's flank – but Ryder was already there, spear raised. For a moment, their eyes met. Anna's posture wavered, caught between defending her sister and trusting someone who minutes ago had called their mother a traitor. A flame lunged into that split second of hesitation.
"Watch out!" Kristoff's warning came just as Garret's ice barrier materialized between them and the flames.
The crystalline wall trembled with heat, already beginning to melt when Elsa strengthened it with a quick flick of her wrist. Honeymaren noticed how Ryder deliberately positioned himself away from the sisters after that, taking the opposite side of their defensive circle. His movements were efficient but rigid, maintaining a careful distance that had nothing to do with the spirits' flames.
"You take high, I'll take low?" Anna's voice rang out, clear and strong above the crackling flames. Her blade flashed in a dizzying arc, forcing the sparklings to scatter and weave to avoid the kiss of her magically enhanced cold steel.
Kristoff simply nodded. His crossbow held his rhythm, each bolt a deterrent that kept the spirits from creating chokes.
"The practice dummies were less... dodgy. Right, G?" he said, and Anna sighed at the pride in his voice over the quality of his groaner.
Interesting time for jokes.
They moved as one, a symphony of synchronized action and unspoken understanding. Even the reindeer played its part, using its bulk to shepherd errant spirits away from the group's flanks.
"Maren!" Ryder's shout pierced the haze of awe that had settled over her, reality falling back over her shoulders. A flame had slipped behind her, its form twisting into something far less innocent, hunger in its incandescent robe.
Instinct saved her, muscles coiling and releasing in a desperate roll that carried her away from searing heat and grasping flames. She came up beside Ryder, pressed her shoulder to his.
"I don't get it," she panted, watching the flames' erratic movements with a growing sense of unease. "Only the big one was ever this aggressive."
"You never tried to stab'em before."
Ryder's words held no true bite, his neutral tone wrapped in layers of concern. He knew her heart, why she'd done what she did, how it had been almost despite herself.
The flames pressed their advantage, only to be driven back by the group's seamless coordination, their attacks met with impenetrable defense and dazzling counterstrikes.
"Garret! Hold them at the line, I'll force them out!" Elsa commanded.
"Majesty!"
Garret dashed forward and erected barrier after barrier, blocking the way to the trees while Elsa pushed a beautifully elaborate wall on all sides, driving them all away save for one. It bounced and fled and hit the frozen fortress in desperation. When Elsa realized the thing had been trapped, she gently slid a fraction of the wall open. The small flame sat there a moment, as if not understanding why it'd been offered a way out, then jumped away to join its comrades.
The battle's end brought a quiet that felt almost unearned, the sudden absence of roaring flames and clashing magic leaving a bizarre void. Her breath still coming in ragged gasps, Honeymaren watched as the Arendellians regrouped, their movements as synchronized in the aftermath as they had been in the heat of combat.
"Elsa!" Anna exclaimed, a note of desperate relief threading through the call. She crashed into her sister, her hands roaming over her in search of injuries.
"I'm alright. The heat makes it harder to work, but it's still manageable," Elsa murmured, her arms coming up to return the embrace. There was a tremor in her voice that made her seem human to Honeymaren, despite what she could now see was immense power. "Are you hurt? Did they...?"
"No, no, I'm fine." Anna pulled back just far enough to flash a smile. "Barely even singed. Thanks to you and Garret."
At the mention of his name, Garret dissolved his bow and bent in an exaggerated fashion surely meant for Anna alone – she hadn't quite gotten that sentiment from his relationship with his queen. He seemed… both too close and too reserved with her for that.
"You're sorted, I've got you," he said with a warm chuckle.
A few paces away, Kristoff was checking over the reindeer, his hands gentle as they soothed slightly carbonized fur and frayed nerves.
"You did good, buddy," he emphasized. "Real good."
Even Olaf seemed subdued, his cheer tempered by the gravity of their situation. He hovered near Elsa's legs, his eyes wide and watchful as he scanned the tree line for any sign of the flames' return.
Honeymaren watched them huddle together, checking each other like she did with Ryder after close calls.
Some things are the same everywhere.
"Honeymaren, Ryder," Elsa called softly, beckoning them closer with an outstretched hand. "Are you both unharmed?"
And now they're worried about us?
Honeymaren felt Ryder's tension beside her, saw the way his shoulders tightened at the address. But he held his tongue, allowing her to take the lead like he always did in matters of diplomacy whenever he was being reasonable – which wasn't often.
Maybe we can correct your efforts a bit.
They had just saved her and Ryder from burning to death, they deserved maybe not outright sympathy but at least some cordiality. The good news was Anna didn't look half as angry as before.
"We're okay," Honeymaren confirmed, closing the distance between them with cautious steps. She could see the toll the battle had taken on Garret, the faint lines of strain around his eyes – less so around Elsa's. Yet beneath it all, that core of strength remained, unshakable and true. "Thanks for your quick thinking. Lot of good I did against those..." Honeymaren couldn't quite keep the bitterness from her voice. The memory of her blade passing harmlessly through the flame, of the chaos her impulsive action had brought, still burned.
To her surprise, it was Anna who responded with a grin. "Hey, don't beat yourself up. Just trying to protect your brother. I get that, I would have done the same thing."
Ryder shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his role in the debacle, but Kristoff spoke before he could give voice to any thought.
"Speaking of brothers," he said, his tone a smidge curter, "you two make quite the team. The way you move together… You've had practice."
Ryder ducked his head, surely uncomfortable at the contrast between the scene and their earlier spat.
"Only because I've had to save his scrawny hide so many times," Honeymaren teased, bumping her shoulder against his.
Elsa watched the exchange with a softness in her eyes.
"You're lucky," she said quietly, "to have each other."
There was a story there, Honeymaren sensed, but she kept her questions for herself.
"I would have asked if I wanted your opinion," Ryder threw without a look their way as he departed once again, alone.
Aaaaaaaaand back to square one.
Honeymaren caught in the way his half-smile disappeared that Kristoff would not be putting up with that much open hostility for very long.
"We really need to press on," Garret said, his eyes fixed upon the distant but now visible mouth of the cavern. "The baby blighters will be back, and I doubt they'll underestimate us twice."
Elsa nodded, hardening into resolve as she turned to face the unknown once more. "Stay together," she instructed, her voice low and urgent, gathering power that even the wind seemed to obey. "And be ready for anything."
The heat grew more intense as they approached the cave's entrance, and not even the chill between them helped cool everything down. Elsa's responses to Honeymaren's warnings had become short, formal – the queen's mask firmly in place. Even Anna's usual attempts to lighten the mood had ceased, her cheerful voice stilled. Honeymaren had fallen into step beside Ryder for most of it, their shoulders brushing with each stride, but he had kept quiet and so had she.
Ahead, a jagged wound gaped in the earth – it was the main entrance Honeymaren knew. The cavern's mouth yawned wide.
"The spirit's chambers are inside," Honeymaren said, the words sticking in her throat. "This is where the real thing usually sleeps, though as I said it's never exactly in the same place."
Elsa took the lead, her steps careful but determined as they crossed the threshold into the stifling darkness. The change was immediate and overwhelming. It was like stepping into an oven, the air so thick and heavy that each breath felt like drowning in smoke.
But they pressed onward, deeper into the stone gullet that threatened to consume them. The walls narrowed, forcing them to move single file, the uneven ground treacherous beneath their feet. More than once, someone stumbled – usually Anna, only to be barely caught – usually by Kristoff. The gleam of the blue sword, so incongruous against the softness of her owner's face, caught the light of the cavern and fractured it into a myriad of blue shards.
You don't even have the space to swing that thing, firehead.
"Does the heat getting worse mean we're getting closer?" Anna was struggling to keep her voice steady.
"Define worse," Kristoff muttered, wiping sweat off his forehead. His eyes followed the walls with intent. "These formations don't even look natural. See how the rock's been warped? It's like what happens to ice under pressure, but... backwards. Instead of compressing, it's like something's pushing out from inside."
Honeymaren turned to him, not masking enough of her surprise in her voice. "You can tell?"
"Ice harvester," he shrugged, but there was quiet confidence in his tone. "You learn to read how pressure changes things. These walls – they're being reshaped by whatever's generating all this heat. And judging by those stress patterns..." He pointed to a series of crystalline formations above them, "...we're getting closer to the source."
Honeymaren didn't need ice harvester expertise to feel it, but he was right. The cavern breathed, its exhalations a burning reminder against her skin. Each pulse was a warning of the trials ahead. She sensed it in her core, in the pain of her healing arm. The stone itself was molded by an inner heat that distorted the air and made it all simmer like a mirage. It wasn't quite lava inside the walls, but something moved.
It's never been this bad before.
Amidst the discomfort that had settled upon the group, two were seemingly more touched than everyone else. Elsa and Garret moved through the heat as though it was actual weight on their backs. Honeymaren noticed Elsa's hands were clenched tightly in focus. Garret, too, betrayed a significant unease, his eyes scanning the cavern's depths.
"You should probably stay behind us, Your Majesty," he said, aiming his words at Elsa and herself. "We'll make sure we're not walking into anything obvious. Our ice can't last long here," he explained while signaling with his thumb towards his quiver, where his arrows had already melted.
"Mine's a bit more… a bit more resistant," Elsa added, struggling to maintain her poise. "But you're right, this is beyond simple heat. Something else is pulling it apart. I would wager it's the spirit itself."
That was when Honeymaren realized that part of the vapor around them hadn't been the cavern's steam, but the ice-wielders' mist straining to cool them down.
…they're really going at it.
She didn't like putting someone else with her in the front, but it was the best idea to distribute the effort.
"I agree with him," she said. "Without your magic to fall back to we need space and patience. The rest of you stay behind but not too far back."
"Understood. Please be careful." Elsa's voice was a soft murmur as she let a light hand drag over Garret's forearm when he passed them both. He answered her plea with a swift nod and a smile.
They stepped deeper into the cavern and meandered while heat climbed well past the threshold of comfort. Sweat poured off them in rivulets, soaking through clothes and plastering hair to damp skin. The air waved around them, warping and distorting like a mirror. Each breath seared the lungs, the superheated air almost too hot to draw in. It was like being roasted alive.
Honeymaren considered leaving them to continue alone – her job had only been to guide them after all. But her job had been to guide them to the trial, and they hadn't reached it yet. Northuldra ways demanded she and Ryder continue – and if his determined frown was anything to go by, he agreed. Still, they soldiered on.
They eventually reached an open room, vast and circular, its walls smooth like blackened melted glass. Their footsteps echoed strangely, muffled and distorted. The heat was somehow even worse inside. The group was a few steps behind, following with prudent glances towards where Garret and Honeymaren were now standing, alert. In the center of the chamber, the ground looked different – a raised dais of sorts, its surface pulsing with violet light as if molten magic lurked just beneath...
"Something's off." Garret's whisper was more interrogative than his tone had let on. "Very much off. Getting an itch. Feels too shifty."
Honeymaren was about to agree when she noticed Elsa and Ryder hadn't stopped when they did, caution momentarily forgotten in the face of curiosity – she caught a tiny movement under their feet, like something was stirring. She looked at Garret and saw he hadn't missed it either, a crystalline moment of perfect understanding passing between them. Horror and realization blossomed in the space between two heartbeats. She opened her mouth to voice her agreement, to render shape to the command she'd thought about giving him—
—but they were both already moving before she'd finished processing the thought.
Her towards Elsa, who had already begun to follow, unknowing of the danger under her. Towards Ryder, who was moving to intercept. Honeymaren's hands found Elsa's arms just as Garret's shoulder pushed into Ryder's chest. They both took off, thrown away from the platform's already cracked surface, towards a still confused Anna and Kristoff.
The ground gave way entirely then. The world tilted, stone and shadow blurring into a swirl of chaos.
"MAREN!" Ryder's scream was visceral, a primal sound of pure terror ripping from his throat.
"GARRET, NO!" Elsa's shriek was a blade of anguish and raw horror as she flung her hands out, desperately trying to conjure a bridge, a net, anything to get to them.
But the ice shattered instantly, dissolving into wisps of steam in the blazing atmosphere. Honeymaren locked eyes with Elsa for a split second, seeing her own fear reflected back at her.
And then they were falling, plummeting into the abyss. The wind howled in Honeymaren's ears, drowning out her own screams as the world spun violently around them. Beside her, she couldn't hear Garret's yells over her own. Her last coherent thought was of Ryder, of the look on his face, and then there was only the strange crackling of her own bones shattering upon impact with a shock of cold.
Silence. For a long, disorienting moment, all she knew was the ringing in her ears, the taste of copper on her tongue, the throb of bruises blooming across her skin, the scent of scorched earth in her nostrils. She blinked, trying to clear the haze from her vision, but the darkness was absolute, pressing in from all sides like a living thing.
"G-Garret?" Her voice was a rasp, barely audible over the pounding of her own pulse. "Garret…" A cough punctuated her call. "…are you there?"
Again, silence. Then, a second cough, a groan, the scrape of shifting rock.
"For Pete's… I'm here," came the reply, strained and pained, but vivid. "Are you hurt?"
"Everything hurts," Honeymaren admitted, afraid to test her limbs. To her surprise nothing seemed broken, but every movement sent fresh waves of lightning rippling through her. "But I'm in one piece. You?"
"Same." There was a rustling sound, then a sharp intake of breath. "Can't see a bloody thing down here."
Honeymaren narrowed her eyes, piercing the obscure veil little by little. The air was thick and heavy, the heat still very much there, but much less stifling than the room above them.
"We fell so far," she whispered, the reality of their situation crashing over her like a wave. "How are we still alive?"
"I dampened the fall," he explained, gesturing behind them where Honeymaren could barely make out a hissing pond. "Snow cushion."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "Smart. How'd you know you could do that?"
He scratched his cheek. "Experience."
Just as she was about to question the type of experience that involved using snow cushions to amortize a multiple-trees-height fall, voices broke through the ringing in her ears.
"Garret!" Elsa's cry echoed down the cavern, her voice, cracking with barely contained panic, accompanied by Anna's and Kristoff's. "Garret! Please, answer me! Please!"
"Maren!" Ryder's shout followed, equally desperate. "Don't you dare be dead right now!"
Honeymaren's heart leapt at the sound of her brother's voice. She struggled to sit up, ignoring the protest of bruised muscles. Beside her, Garret was already up, his gaze focused and determined despite the pain.
They called back together, their voices bouncing off the cavern walls in a disorienting echo towards an upper level they couldn't see anymore. "We're here! We're alive!"
The response was immediate, a cacophony of relieved voices.
"Never again…" Ryder's reaction she guessed even from a distance. He was already slumping against the cavern wall, his face in his hands as his tension evaporated.
"Oh, thank the spirits!" Elsa she pictured on her knees, hand trembling over her heart.
"We're fine! We just can't climb out!" Garret shouted back, strong despite the ordeal. He turned to Honeymaren, his voice lowering. "Heat's actually better down here. I can keep us cool with a light mist."
Honeymaren hesitated to tell him he'd already done so, then nodded gratefully, the promise of a break from the oppressive heat a spark of hope amidst the darkness and erasing all semblance of doubt she had against him. She turned her face upward, squinting against the gloom.
"We'll find a way up! Ryder – the ugly entrance!"
There was a pause, a heartbeat of silence that stretched just a little too long. Then Ryder's voice came back, clearer now. "…like a troll's nose?"
"Hey!" she heard Kristoff's protest from above.
Maybe he's a fan.
Despite the direness of their situation, Honeymaren found herself grinning. That was how he remembered things. "That's the one!"
"We'll meet you there," Elsa called, the more than evident relief in her voice balanced by a new urgency. "Please promise not to get yourself in danger!"
"We'll do what we can, considering!" Garret responded, and Honeymaren could hear the slight smile in his voice, the unspoken reassurance that they would make it through this, somehow.
As if to underscore his words, Garret lifted his hand, and a cool mist began to emanate from all across his body. It settled around them like a soothing balm, chasing away the worst of the heat and making the air feel less like an iron cast on her head. Little droplets of frost came and went over his arms now. She considered asking him about them, then decided against it.
Let's not risk being rude to the safety beacon.
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the mist work its magic. It was a small comfort, but in this place, she would take what she could get. When she opened her eyes again, Garret was watching her, his gaze intense despite the shadows that clung to his features.
"Not to be a pain, but you're the one who knows these tunnels. We'll be faster if you take the lead," he said simply, a world of conviction in those words. A simple vow of trust.
Honeymaren gave a rueful chuckle at his impatience. "Not keen on letting your queen alone with Ryder? He's a loudmouth but–"
"It's not her I'm worried about right now."
The mist around them had shifted, turning from a soothing cool to something sharper, more defensive. His eyes narrowed, and without a word, he stepped into the darkness ahead, his right hand already gathering frost that hissed and died against the growing heat. Steam was now covering him entirely, rolling over his shoulders like a cape.
A faint glow was now slowly diffusing from inside, casting an eerie purple over the surrounding rocks. The light pulsed like a heartbeat, uneven and alive, its intensity shooting and waning. Honeymaren's grip tightened on her spear as the shadows warped and stretched, their edges tinged with violet. Beside her, Garret's posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing in quiet appraisal.
"The magic, it's not just dissolving anymore. It's being consumed." A low, resonant growl echoed through the cavern, and Garret's next words came out like gravel. "And something's very, very hungry."
AN
Just a heads-up: don't get too excited, this was just the rest of last time's chapter that got turned into another chapter – I will not be this quick for the next (have you seen the length of this one? Almost 11k words, longest chapter by quite a margin and about a 10th of Harry Potter 3?)
*Cough* let's not dwell on the irony of my delays on a story called Patience and Time
Thanks for taking the time to read this story, I appreciate you all! Of course, always happy to hear your thoughts. If the chapters are getting too long for y'all, I can break them up into smaller bits that can be more digestible
Last time I didn't give a theme because I forgot (full honesty from now on peeps), but I didn't this time.
Chapter 7 – Trust has a theme: Frieren the Slayer from the eponymous Frieren: Beyond Journey's End
Be well and see you next time,
Peace,
CalAm