"Kael!" I screamed; my voice swallowed by the relentless storm.
'Where are you? Why did you come to this forsaken land?!'
'Do you want to die?!'
I had packed two months' worth of rations, but after three weeks of searching, I now understood why this cursed place was called the "Frozen Veil." Normally, this land was hidden from the world, only accessible once every fifty years, when the winter storms allowed passage.
Thousands of forgotten geniuses lay buried here, victims of their own ambition. Rumors told of dormant Rank 6 and 7 fragments scattered across the land, waiting for a master worthy of their power. But between the eternal storms, treacherous mountains, and endless stretches of snow, finding anything—or anyone—was nearly impossible.
The worst part? If you weren't at least Rank 6, it was certain you'd die here, with nothing to show for it. No forgotten power. No fragments of strength.
I, myself, was only Rank 5. Far too weak for this task, but I had no choice. I couldn't afford to waste time. I needed to find Kael. And fast.
Yet, despite all my efforts, it was as if the land itself had swallowed him whole. Three weeks of traversing over ten thousand miles of frozen wasteland. I'd scouted every direction, searched for his presence, his spirit, anything. But there was nothing. No trace. No blood. No sign of him at all. Not even the faintest whisper of his existence.
If I didn't find him tomorrow... I would have no choice but to give up. Hope that he managed to escape on his own or pray he somehow ascended to Rank 6 and could survive the next fifty years in this hellish place.
Just as I thought it was hopeless I saw something, blood.
And lots of it.
Under normal circumstances you would be distraught at such a grotesque scene, but here this meant you had found somebody, or something.
A surge of determination flooded through me, the first spark of hope I'd felt since I entered this desolate land.
I focused, my mind clearing as I began to track the faintest traces of blood, however small, however fleeting. This was my only chance. I had to find him—the boy I had come to see as a son. My disciple, Kael.
But after I traced the source of this blood, I found someone else, something else.
He was a man in his early 20s, passed out and dying from exhaustion. Between the lack of color on his face and the frailness of his body it was clear he hasn't eaten in days.
I had to do something, and fast, otherwise he was going to die.
But who was he? Was he a threat? Had he crossed paths with Kael? Did they fight?
Despite the uncertainty, the risks, and the weight of what saving him could mean, I knew I had no choice. I had to save him.
It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.
And, perhaps, if I was fortunate, he could even help me save Kael.