Annual
Palm opened his eyes when the frost became unbearable. His affinity for the drafty helped him in many cases on the mountain, but even he had his limits. If only he could stay up there for longer; for as long as he did. Then in the blink of an eye, his tranquility disappeared and he was once again on Felwinter’s peak, peeking over the clouds, a gust of wind blowing into his hood. A deadly concoction of winter air and arctic altitude would have frozen the skin off any normal person. With open arms, Palm welcomed this chill, his neck tight with beads of ice on every surface.
Abel moved against his neck. “That’s enough,” she said. “Let’s go back down.”
A few deep breaths later and the two left the top of the peak behind them, walking calmly down steep slopes and powder ledges.
At the base of the mountain, a New Generation Iron Lord caught Palm coming out of the hidden mountain path, and held him at gunpoint.
“What are you doing here?” The titan shoved his gun in Palm’s face, leading him up to the stairs of the temple with the rifle against his cheek. “This area is off limits to regular Guardians; you shouldn’t be here.”
‘Regular Guardians?’ Abel gasped. Their reputation was definitely opaque, but couldn’t this Guardian tell from power alone that Palm was in a separate league? She was ready to go on the offensive when Palm held her back.
“That’s right, we just dropped in at the wrong place, please forgive us.”
Abel gasped. ‘Palm!’
Felwinter’s Peak, the home of the Iron Lords, was home for them. She wasn’t about to let some no-name Titan kick them out of their own home.
“It was our mistake,” he repeated.
Palm turned on his heel and left as ordered, but not before the Titan got a good shove in on his back. Snow and ice from the bottom of the stairs met Palm’s face in an instant.
‘This is idiotic!’ Abel cried. Don’t let these children walk all over you! Show them who you are!
“Palamon!”
Palm’s heart stopped deader than the moment he first rose. Whipping his head around to see the owner of the voice, he was met with the scowl of the Titan shooing him from the top step.
‘What’s wrong?’
“I heard him…” A sob caught in his throat. “It was Felwinter’s voice.”
Abel couldn’t say anything to comfort her Risen. Palm never remembered it and she couldn’t break his heart, telling him that it was his voice again.
“Get outta here, before I make you regret it.”
Palm picked his pitiful body up from the snow and heeded the warning. Abel acted as Palm’s sense of reason. She helped him control his anger and preserve what pacifism they could, but how could she sit silently while her Guardian, her Risen, was being threatened by a rag? Unable to move in Palm’s grasp, she silently fumed as they trudged along the path to the old Crucible field.
It wasn’t until they reached the old ski lift that another voice called out to them, this time, someone “alive”.
“Cain! Abel!” Saladin waved them down. “Are you leaving now that I’ve just arrived?”
‘One of your New Lights kicked us out!’ Abel spat, wrestling herself from between Palm’s fingers.
“Who was it?” He growled. “They should know better than to disrespect their elders. Name who and I will give them a sound thrashing.”
“It was nobody,” Palm murmured.
“Cain–”
Palm bowed and lifted the yellow hood over his head.
“Until next year…”
With a smile and a single breeze, the pair disappeared, off to another place they were likely unwelcome.