Priorities
Chapter 8: Priorities
The journey to Delverhold began under a blanket of somber gray skies, the thick clouds looming oppressively over the Freljordian expanse like a shroud of impending doom. The wind howled low and mournful, a sound that seemed to carry whispers of old stories and forgotten warnings as it rushed across the frozen plains, dragging sharp swirls of snow and frost through the air like spectral hands clawing at their cloaks. The endless white landscape stretched into the distance, broken only by jagged ice formations and dark clusters of ancient pines whose branches sagged heavily under layers of ice.
Each breath felt like a dagger to the chest, the cold biting deeper than the thickest fur could guard against, cutting through to muscle and bone. Even the sturdy fur-lined cloaks and boots of Ashe’s warriors offered little reprieve from the unrelenting frost. At the head of the column, Ashe strode with unyielding purpose, her bow slung across her back and her sharp gaze fixed forward, scanning the horizon like a hawk hunting its prey. Her warriors—men and women who had known nothing but the harshness of the Freljord their entire lives—moved in perfect unison, a silent testament to their training and experience. Their fur-trimmed armor, dark and utilitarian, blended into the surroundings like the pelt of some great northern predator. Eyes as sharp as blades swept the landscape for signs of movement, while their hands hovered near their weapons, ready to respond to any threat the frozen wilderness might throw at them.
Caitlyn walked near the center of the group, the weight of her rifle pulling at her back, a subtle reminder of how heavy the world had begun to feel. The fur-lined cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders did little to ward off the chill that seemed to creep into her bones, but it was the cold gnawing at her thoughts that unsettled her more. Each step felt slower, heavier, as though the snow were dragging her down, and the unspoken fears lingering in her mind pressed against her heart like an invisible hand. She gripped the edge of her cloak tightly, her eyes darting forward to Ashe, then over to Jinx, who strolled beside her with an exaggerated air of carelessness.
Jinx’s cloak was almost identical to Caitlyn’s—black, fur-lined, and heavy—but true to form, Jinx had added her own flair. Vibrant scraps of cloth in violet, red, and green fluttered at the cloak’s hem, standing out like defiant brushstrokes against the monotony of black and white. Her boots crunched through the snow in uneven, playful strides, the sound oddly loud in the otherwise silent march. Her short hair—a choppy, self-cut mess that stopped just below her jawline—whipped in the wind, the single crimson streak cutting like a scar through the pale blue strands. It wasn’t just a flourish; it was deliberate, a tribute to Vi, though Jinx would never admit as much aloud.
Caitlyn glanced at her, taking in the restless movements of Jinx’s hands as they buried themselves deeper into her cloak pockets. There was a strange quiet about Jinx today, her usual manic energy muted by the oppressive weight of the cold and the gravity of where they were headed. The wind tugged at Jinx’s cloak, revealing glimpses of the mismatched belts and pouches strapped across her hips, where the telltale bulges of explosives and makeshift gadgets hid within easy reach. Despite her usual chaotic bravado, Jinx’s eyes were focused and sharp, darting across the terrain in a way that betrayed her own vigilance.
Above them, a pair of ravens circled, their dark wings stark against the gray sky. The sound of their caws echoed distantly, carried by the wind as if mocking the quiet resolve of the group below. Each passing mile brought them closer to Delverhold, the fortress shrouded in rumor and dread, and though none of them spoke it aloud, they all felt the growing tension—a collective weight pressing on their shoulders like the snow-heavy pines that lined the distant ridges.
The landscape seemed to close in around them, the wind’s howl growing louder, and for a moment, Caitlyn felt as though they were marching toward the edge of the world itself. Beside her, Jinx let out a short, dry laugh that cut through the silence, though it held no humor.
“Cheery place, isn’t it?” Jinx muttered, her voice muffled by the fur collar of her cloak, but Caitlyn heard the undercurrent of unease.
Caitlyn didn’t respond right away. She only tightened her grip on the strap of her rifle and kept moving, feeling the icy wilderness swallowing them whole as Delverhold loomed unseen on the horizon.
For a while, the two of them walked in silence, the rhythm of the march and the occasional shout of Ashe’s warriors filling the empty space. It wasn’t until the wind softened briefly, as if offering them a small reprieve, that Jinx finally spoke again.
“So,” Jinx began, her voice quieter than Caitlyn expected, almost lost beneath the howling wind, “what do you think we’ll find when we get there?” She glanced sideways, her glowing eyes flickering with something rare and unsettling: uncertainty. The usual gleam of manic energy that fueled her antics was dimmed, as though the weight of the journey and the cold had stripped away her defenses.
Caitlyn exhaled slowly, her breath misting in the icy air, the sound barely audible against the crunch of their boots through the snow. Her gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, the stark, empty horizon offering little comfort. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice low and even, though her words carried a hesitance that betrayed her worry. “But if Ambessa really has the gemstone, we need to be ready for anything.” She paused mid-step, her boots sinking deeper into the snow as memories she’d fought hard to suppress pushed their way to the surface. “It’s not just about the gemstone, though, is it? It’s about Vi.”
The name lingered in the cold air, spoken softly, but it might as well have been a crack of thunder. Jinx’s steps faltered for a heartbeat, a barely noticeable break in her stride before she recovered with a sharp intake of breath. Her jaw tightened, her face hardening into a mask of practiced indifference, but it didn’t hold. A tremor of raw emotion crept through her voice as she muttered, “Vi was tough. She could’ve handled anything. It wasn’t fair what happened to her.”
Caitlyn turned her head slightly to study Jinx, noting the tension in her frame—her shoulders hunched against the wind, her hands buried deep in her cloak pockets as though she could physically hold herself together. “You saw what the shimmer did to her, Jinx,” Caitlyn said gently, though her voice trembled faintly, her words carrying an edge of pain that cut like glass. “It wasn’t just killing her—it was tearing her apart. She was…” She stopped, her throat tightening as the vivid memories clawed their way forward: Vi collapsing onto the cold concrete floor of the bridge, her body wracked with convulsions, the unnatural purple veins of shimmer pulsing beneath her skin as though they’d come alive to consume her. “She was shaking so badly, I thought she wouldn’t wake up,” Caitlyn continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “And then… when Ambessa…” She trailed off, unable to finish.
“Don’t,” Jinx cut her off sharply, the word like a snapped wire. She stopped walking entirely, boots sinking into the snow as she turned to face Caitlyn, her expression a storm of grief, anger, and something darker—a vulnerability rarely seen. Her eyes blazed, moisture glimmering at the edges as though she was fighting off tears. “I know what happened. I wasn’t there, but Ekko told me, Cait.” Her voice trembled as she spoke, every word forced through gritted teeth. “He didn’t see it, but he sure as hell heard it—the fighting, the screaming.” She sucked in a breath, her face pinched as though the weight of it all was suffocating her. “I saw what the shimmer did to her. I was with her every day, trying to keep her from dying.” Jinx’s voice wavered again, and her gaze dropped, her hands balling into fists beneath her cloak. “And I…” Her breath hitched, the cracks in her bravado widening. “I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”
For a long, quiet moment, neither of them spoke. The wind howled around them, and snow swirled in the air like ghostly fragments of the past. Caitlyn stepped closer, placing a hand on Jinx’s shoulder. The touch was firm but careful, as though afraid the younger woman might shatter. “It wasn’t your fault,” Caitlyn said softly, her voice carrying a rare, unguarded kindness. Her blue eyes searched Jinx’s face, hoping the words might break through the wall she’d built around herself. “You couldn’t have known Ambessa would make her move. None of us could.”
Jinx snorted bitterly, the sound sharp and hollow. She shrugged Caitlyn’s hand away—not angrily, but as though she couldn’t bear the comfort. “Yeah And?” she muttered, her voice bitter with self-loathing. “Vi’s gone because I wasn’t there to save her. I let her down.” Her eyes flitted toward the horizon, unfocused, as though she were staring at something only she could see. “I’ve spent every day since trying to fix it. Trying to find something, anything, to get her back. And none of it matters.”
Caitlyn said nothing for a moment, simply watching the crimson streak in Jinx’s short hair flutter in the wind. The way it stood out—a vivid splash of color against her pale blue locks—was unmistakably deliberate. A quiet tribute to Vi’s memory, a piece of her sister that Jinx carried with her, even now. Caitlyn’s voice softened as she spoke again, the wind stealing some of her words but not their meaning. “She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself,” she said gently. “Vi was stubborn, reckless… but she wouldn’t want this—you—to destroy yourself because of what happened.”
Jinx looked back at Caitlyn then, her eyes searching her face as though weighing the truth in her words. For once, the grin, the chaos, the snark—all of it was gone. What remained was a girl stripped raw by grief, anger, and the ghosts she couldn’t escape. “I just want her back,” Jinx whispered, her voice so small it nearly vanished into the wind, carried away like a fragile thread.
Caitlyn felt something in her chest twist, sharp and sudden, as though Jinx’s words had cracked open a part of her she’d long tried to bury. She drew in a shaky breath, the cold air burning her throat, but it did little to steady the ache spreading through her ribs. “Me too,” she replied softly, her voice scarcely above a murmur. Her gloved hands clenched at her sides as the memories surged unbidden—memories she held onto like a lifeline, even as they tore at her heart.
It had been nearly six years, but the night on the bridge between Piltover and Zaun was seared into her soul. She could still feel Vi’s arms around her, the strength of them holding her close as the chaos of the world fell away. Caitlyn’s stomach fluttered as she recalled the taste of Vi’s mouth on hers, the warmth of their deep kiss spreading through her even as the cold metal grating beneath their feet seemed to stretch into the void. That moment had been a lifeline in the darkness—a promise, fragile but real, that everything would be okay. But it hadn’t been.
Her jaw tightened as her gaze dropped to the snow ahead, the dull crunch of their boots the only sound filling the silence between them. She still remembered Vi’s face when the shimmer began to take hold—how her stubborn, reckless fighter had looked so small and fragile as the poison ravaged her. The spasms. The convulsions. Caitlyn had held Vi’s shaking form on that cold bridge, pressing her forehead against Vi’s as tears she couldn’t afford to shed spilled silently down her cheeks. ‘Stay with me. Don’t you dare leave me.’ But Vi couldn’t hear her. And then Ambessa Medarda—ruthless, unrelenting—had taken the rest.
Her throat constricted at the memory, and Caitlyn forced herself to swallow, blinking rapidly against the sting building in her eyes. She would not break here—not now, when so much depended on them reaching Delverhold. She looked back up at Jinx, who had turned away again, shoulders hunched beneath the weight of her cloak, the streak of crimson in her short hair vivid against the pale winter landscape. That red streak, like Vi’s, felt like another wound—one they both carried.
For a long moment, Jinx said nothing. Then, as though sensing Caitlyn’s lingering pain, she shrugged, the motion loose and slightly exaggerated. Her grin returned faintly, though it was different now—softer, the edges of it frayed and almost fragile. “You know, you’re way too serious, Cupcake,” Jinx said, her voice carrying a teasing lilt, though it lacked its usual manic energy. She jabbed a playful elbow into Caitlyn’s side, the touch surprisingly light. “You need to loosen up a little. When this is over, we’re having a drink. Vi would’ve wanted that.”
Caitlyn startled slightly at the contact, the corner of her mouth twitching despite the weight in her chest. She turned her head just enough to meet Jinx’s gaze and forced a faint smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was something. “Fine,” she said quietly, her voice steadier now. “One drink.”
Jinx’s smirk widened, though it still didn’t hold its usual bite. “Make it two,” she quipped, her tone carrying a touch of the mischief Caitlyn had come to expect. But the playfulness was laced with something else—something unspoken that neither of them could bring themselves to name. For once, it wasn’t about chaos or bravado; it was about holding onto the people they’d lost in the only way they knew how.
Caitlyn’s smile lingered for a beat longer, but as she looked ahead once more, the path to Delverhold seemed longer, the wind colder. Two drinks, she thought to herself, tightening her cloak around her shoulders. It was something to hold onto—no matter how small—until they reached the end of this road.
At the back of the group, Mel’s footsteps slowed, her boots sinking a little deeper into the snow with each hesitant step. A strange sensation rippled through her body, faint at first but growing stronger, persistent as a low drumbeat she couldn’t silence. It was a tingling, an almost electric hum that pulsed beneath her skin, threading through her veins like liquid light. The feeling was unsettling and unfamiliar, a warmth rising in defiance of the Freljord’s bone-deep cold. It spread up her arms, curling into her chest with the slow, deliberate weight of something waking from a long slumber.
She flexed her gloved fingers instinctively, as though to dispel the energy, but it only intensified. Mel’s golden eyes narrowed, her brows furrowing as her breathing quickened, shallow and uneven. The sensation wasn’t painful—not exactly—but it was disconcerting, alien, like a second heartbeat reverberating inside her. And yet, despite the unease, there was a strange familiarity to it, a pull she couldn’t resist, as though her body recognized something her mind couldn’t yet name.
She had felt this before—small, fleeting flickers throughout her life, like embers hidden in ash. When she was a child in Noxus, watching storms roll across the horizon, or later, when her mother’s voice would echo through their halls, sharp and commanding. It had always been there, lurking in her blood like a secret, but never like this. Here, in the vast, frozen wilderness of the Freljord, the hum had grown louder, the embers fanned into a smoldering flame. Stronger. Alive.
Her gaze lifted to the dark pines towering above her, their branches heavy with snow, swaying gently in the bitter wind. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to slow, and her eyes caught it—a shimmer of light, soft and fleeting, dancing like a phantom among the branches. It moved with a strange, ethereal grace, almost like… a whisper. She blinked sharply, her pulse jumping, but the shimmer vanished, leaving only the stark black of the trees against the gray sky.
Mel’s breath caught in her throat, the air too cold as she exhaled sharply. She pressed a hand to her chest, fingers splaying over the intricate fabric of her cloak. The sensation centered there now, as though her heart was no longer her own—its rhythm intertwined with something ancient and unknowable. The hum resonated in her bones, in the air itself, a pulse that felt so much larger than her, echoing out across the snow-covered expanse. It wasn’t just inside her; it was around her, vibrating faintly through the earth beneath her feet, through the ice and wind.
“What is this…?” she whispered to herself, her voice low and unsteady, barely carried by the biting wind. The words sounded small, lost to the vastness of the land around her. She turned her head slightly, almost afraid to see if anyone else had noticed, but the others marched on, their focus trained forward. Ashe led the way with unwavering purpose, her warriors following like shadows, while Caitlyn and Jinx walked together further up the line, their voices distant and muffled by the wind.
Mel swallowed hard, her hand lingering over her chest as if trying to contain the strange energy coursing through her. The feeling refused to fade, instead settling deep within her, as though some part of her had been claimed by this place. It was unsettling, but also… intoxicating. It called to her, a soundless voice whispering in a language she did not know but somehow understood. For the first time in her life, Mel Medarda—always poised, always in control—felt like a thread in a much larger tapestry, a part of something ancient and vast.
Her golden eyes drifted to the distant horizon, where the silhouette of Delverhold’s fortress loomed faintly against the gray. Whatever waited for them there, Mel could feel it pulling her closer, stirring the power she could no longer deny.
As they trudged deeper into the snow-blanketed expanse, the outline of Delverhold’s dark fortress began to take shape on the horizon—jagged and unyielding, like a scar cut into the landscape. Its towering walls loomed against the dim light of the overcast sky, the mere sight of it enough to send a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. The winds, sharp as blades, howled through the frozen pines, yet no one spoke as they approached.
Suddenly, Ashe stopped. The Warmother raised a single gloved hand, her fingers curling in a tight signal, and the entire column came to an immediate halt. Boots ground into the snow, the warriors falling silent as they looked toward her. Ashe’s voice, though quiet, carried authority as she turned to her warband. “Into the trees,” she ordered, gesturing toward the dense woodland that bordered the trail. “Stay out of sight. No one moves until I give the signal.”
The warriors obeyed without hesitation, their fur-lined cloaks blending seamlessly with the shadows of the forest. Silent as ghosts, they slipped between the trees, disappearing one by one into the darkness beyond. The crunch of snow underfoot faded, replaced by the eerie hush of the winds threading through the pines. Within moments, the four of them—Ashe, Caitlyn, Jinx, and Mel—were alone.
Caitlyn adjusted the fur-lined cloak around her shoulders, unease clear on her face as her sharp blue eyes flicked between Ashe and the fortress ahead. “Why are we stopping?” she asked, her breath fogging in the frigid air. “We’re close enough to get a better look.”
Ashe turned to them, her expression calm but resolute, her ice-blue eyes cutting through the haze of snow like twin shards of frost. “You will go ahead without me,” she said evenly, her voice carrying no room for argument. “My warriors and I will remain here, in the tree line. If anything goes wrong, we will intervene.”
Jinx snorted, her grin crooked as she shifted the weight of her modified pistol slung against her back. “What, you don’t wanna come see the big scary fortress up close?” she teased, her voice carrying its usual edge of mischief. “Afraid the Noxians might chip a nail?”
Ashe ignored her, her gaze steady as it moved from Caitlyn to Mel. “Stealth is your best ally here. The fewer of us they see, the better. I will not risk drawing attention before we know what we’re dealing with.”
Caitlyn frowned but nodded, understanding Ashe’s reasoning even if it left her uneasy. She reached instinctively for her rifle, as though seeking comfort in its familiar weight. “Understood,” she said quietly. “We’ll scout ahead.”
But Ashe didn’t move. Instead, her piercing eyes lingered on Mel, studying her in that unnervingly patient way that made it seem as though she were peeling back layers no one else could see. The wind tugged at the Warmother’s cloak, frost crusting the edges of her armor as she tilted her head slightly. “You are a mage,” Ashe said suddenly, the words as calm and clear as if she were stating the weather.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Mel froze, the blood draining from her face as the words struck her like a physical blow. Her golden eyes widened, and she took a step back, shaking her head with a mix of disbelief and denial. “I’m not—no. That’s not possible,” she stammered, her voice trembling. Her gloved hands rose instinctively, as though warding off the accusation. “I’m not a mage. I’ve never—”
Ashe’s expression didn’t change. She watched Mel with the same unrelenting calm, her gaze unwavering. “I know the signs,” Ashe said softly, though her voice carried a weight that made the words feel inescapable. “The way the air hums around you, the way your presence stirs the wind. It is faint, but it is there. You can feel it, can’t you?”
Mel’s chest tightened, her pulse roaring in her ears. The tingling she had felt earlier flared again, creeping up her arms and curling in her chest like an ember trying to catch flame. “No,” she whispered, though her voice was weak, betraying her fear. “I’ve felt… things, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m—”
“You are,” Ashe said simply, her tone brooking no denial. “You may not understand it yet, but you carry power within you.”
Caitlyn, standing just a few feet away, blinked sharply, her mouth slightly agape. “A mage?” she echoed, her voice tinged with shock as she turned to Mel. Her sharp blue eyes scanned Mel as though expecting to see something different now, something obvious that she had missed. “Mel, is this true?”
“I don’t—” Mel began, but her voice broke, and she shook her head again, panic flickering across her usually composed features. “I don’t know.”
Jinx, meanwhile, stood slightly apart, and the expression on her face was one of pure, unrestrained amusement. Her lips twitched as though she were fighting to hold back laughter, but it was a losing battle. Finally, she let out a snort, doubling over slightly as a loud, cackling laugh tore free. “Oh, this is rich,” she wheezed, wiping at the corner of her eye as though the situation were the funniest thing she’d heard all week. “Golden Girl’s a mage! Of course she is. The polished Noxian diplomat hiding a big, juicy secret. What a twist!”
“Jinx!” Caitlyn snapped, glaring at her with clear frustration. “This isn’t funny.”
“Are you kidding?” Jinx retorted, still grinning wildly as she straightened. Her short hair whipped in the wind, the crimson streak standing out vividly against the pale snow. “It’s hilarious. I mean, look at her.” She waved a hand toward Mel, who looked thoroughly shaken. “She’s practically glowing with it now. Mage Mel. Oh, that has a nice ring to it.”
“Enough,” Ashe said firmly, her voice cutting through Jinx’s laughter like a blade. Her icy gaze shifted back to Mel, her tone softening slightly. “Denying it won’t change what you are,” she said, her words almost gentle. “The Freljord has a long history with magic, both light and dark. If it is awakening in you, you must learn to understand it.”
Mel didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was spinning, her chest tight as she tried to make sense of what Ashe was saying. A mage. The very idea was absurd. She had spent her entire life mastering diplomacy, controlling every word, every movement, every thought. Magic was chaos—unpredictable, untamable—and it had no place in her carefully constructed life. Yet the truth gnawed at the edges of her denial, whispered in the tingling hum still coursing through her veins.
Caitlyn stepped closer to her, her expression softening as she placed a reassuring hand on Mel’s arm. “We’ll figure this out,” she said gently, her voice steady despite the shock still lingering in her eyes. “Whatever this is, you’re not alone.”
Jinx rolled her eyes, but her grin had softened into something less mocking, more thoughtful. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, though her tone lacked its usual bite. “At least now you’re not just the boring one.”
Ashe nodded once, satisfied for now. “We don’t have time for further debate. Whatever this awakening means for you, Mel, you must keep it under control. It could become both a strength and a danger.” She turned her attention back to the distant fortress, her gaze narrowing. “We move carefully from here. If you’re discovered, we’ll be watching.”
Mel nodded shakily, though the weight of Ashe’s words lingered like frost on her skin. As the group began to move again, the tingling hum within her didn’t fade. If anything, it grew stronger—an ancient call buried deep within her bones, waiting to be answered.
Before turning to leave, Ashe’s sharp gaze caught movement in the distance—shadows shifting along the far edge of the fortress road. She stilled, the wind tugging at the fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders as she narrowed her eyes, focusing on the figures coming into view. A small convoy, no more than two dozen men, marched steadily toward the fortress gates. Their armor gleamed faintly against the snow-heavy skies, the dull metallic sheen broken by banners snapping in the bitter wind. The insignia of Noxus was unmistakable—deep crimson and black, a dark blot against the frozen whiteness of the Freljordian landscape.
But it wasn’t the soldiers that made Ashe’s expression harden. In the midst of the column, a carriage laden with supplies rattled noisily over the frozen earth, its wooden sides reinforced with iron. Behind it trailed packhorses burdened with barrels and crates, provisions for a military force preparing for something larger. Ashe’s gaze narrowed further when she spotted the unmistakable bulk of siege equipment being transported—a clear indication of Ambessa Medarda’s intentions to fortify or, worse, expand her foothold.
Her jaw tightened as her gaze flicked back toward the group. “Be on your guard,” she said firmly, her voice low but carrying an edge of urgency. Her piercing blue eyes lingered on each of them, as though ensuring they understood the weight of her words. “Something stirs within Delverhold. If Ambessa and Darius are preparing for war, we must be ready for it.”
With that, Ashe turned, her tall form retreating into the tree line with the practiced silence of a hunter. Her warriors already there, merging seamlessly with the forest’s shadows until they vanished entirely, leaving Caitlyn, Jinx, and Mel alone against the icy winds.
Caitlyn’s brows furrowed deeply, her sharp features etched with worry as her rifle shifted across her back. “That convoy…” she murmured, trailing off as she squinted toward the figures growing larger in the distance. “They’re bringing in reinforcements. Provisions. This isn’t just a hold—it’s a staging ground.”
Jinx’s confident stride faltered for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the approaching line of soldiers. She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake off the unease coiling in her chest. “Great,” she muttered, her tone edged with uncharacteristic bitterness. “Just what we needed—more Noxians. What’s the big plan, huh? Throw a party in the fortress while they point their big swords at us?” But even her sarcasm was dulled, her usual fire dampened by the scene unfolding before them.
Beside Caitlyn, Mel’s steps slowed, her golden eyes fixed ahead as dread rippled through her chest. Her diplomatic instincts screamed warnings at her—this was no minor operation. “Ambessa,” she whispered, her breath fogging in the frigid air. The single word carried the weight of everything she knew about her mother—ruthlessness, ambition, and an unrelenting will to dominate. She didn’t need to see the gilded armor to know that Ambessa was here, overseeing this operation. It made sense. Of course her mother would lead this charge personally.
As the group crested a small rise, the sight waiting for them confirmed their worst suspicions. A single black horse emerged first from the snow-dusted horizon, its powerful frame cutting a stark silhouette against the pale backdrop. Atop it sat Ambessa Medarda, as unmistakable as ever in her resplendent golden armor. The plates caught what little light broke through the clouds, gleaming like a beacon of power and dominance. She was a vision of controlled strength, her posture perfect, her dark eyes sweeping over her forces like a queen surveying her domain. Her helmet rested against her saddle, revealing her sharp features—angular, regal, and utterly unyielding.
Caitlyn’s breath hitched as she took in the scene, her gloved hands balling into tight fists at her sides. “It’s her,” she said flatly, her voice a tight whisper. “Ambessa.” There was no hiding the bitterness in her tone, nor the apprehension in her usually composed gaze.
Jinx, however, was more animated. Her head darted from side to side, scanning the convoy with growing agitation, her grin absent. “Where is she?” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else. Her glowing eyes widened as they searched every soldier, every face, every crate passing through the gates. “Where’s Vi?” Her voice rose slightly, edged with desperation now. “She has to be here.”
But Vi wasn’t there.
The absence hit Caitlyn like a physical blow, her throat tightening as the wind seemed to grow colder. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the dark thoughts threatening to creep into her mind. “No…” she murmured, shaking her head slightly. “No, she should be here. If Ambessa’s here, Vi—she has to be…”
Jinx’s gloved hands curled into fists at her sides, trembling with barely contained frustration. “She’s hiding her,” Jinx snapped, her voice sharp and strained. Her short hair whipped across her face as she turned on her heel, pacing a few steps before stopping abruptly. “Or—or she’s locked up somewhere, waiting. She has to be here. She has to.”
Caitlyn looked at Jinx, her heart sinking as she took in the frantic energy pouring off of her companion. She wanted to say something—anything—to reassure her, but the words caught in her throat. The truth was, she didn’t know. Ambessa’s presence was a clear message, but Vi’s absence was a mystery that gnawed at her worse than the cold.
Mel, silent until now, stood with her golden eyes fixed on the distant figure of her mother, the gleam of Ambessa’s golden armor cutting through the gray like an unwelcome beacon. The sight seared itself into her mind, a symbol of everything they were up against. Her chest grew tight as that strange, tingling energy flared again, crackling like dormant lightning beneath her skin. Each pulse felt sharper, fed by the churn of emotions within her—anger, dread, and something she couldn’t quite name. It clawed its way up from her core, pushing her to speak.
“We need to focus,” Mel said abruptly, her voice low but firm, breaking the tense silence. She turned to face Caitlyn and Jinx, her expression sharp, the usual polished calm fraying at the edges. “Vi matters to you both—I understand that—but don’t forget why we’re here in the first place.” She gestured toward the fortress, her gloved fingers trembling faintly, as though the tingling energy might spill out at any moment. “The gemstone. It’s the reason we came to the Freljord. It’s the reason Ambessa is here, and if we don’t stop her… Vi’s fate won’t be the only one that’s sealed.”
Caitlyn’s head snapped toward Mel, surprise flashing across her face before it settled into something more guarded. For a moment, her features hardened, her lips parting as though she might protest, but then she faltered. The truth in Mel’s words cut through her defenses. The gemstone—the power it carried—was too dangerous to ignore. Caitlyn turned her gaze back to the towering walls of Delverhold, her gloved hand instinctively brushing the strap of her rifle. She exhaled slowly, a tremor in her breath betraying the weight of the decision she carried. “You’re right,” she admitted quietly, though her voice lacked conviction. “But that doesn’t mean we abandon her. Vi matters. We can’t let her become just another casualty of this… war.”
Jinx, who had been pacing like a caged animal, stopped dead in her tracks. She whirled around to face Mel, the fury in her glowing eyes clashing with the vulnerability barely hidden beneath. “You don’t get it,” Jinx snapped, her voice edged with something raw and jagged. “The gemstone isn’t breathing. The gemstone isn’t Vi.” She pointed a gloved finger toward Mel, her hand trembling with barely restrained anger. “I didn’t come all this way to let some stupid rock take priority over my sister. If we find Ambessa, we find Vi. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
Mel’s gaze remained steady, though her throat tightened as she absorbed Jinx’s words. “And what happens,” she replied carefully, her voice like tempered steel, “if Ambessa uses that ‘stupid rock’ to wipe out everything we know? Or hands it to someone like Darius to finish what she started? Vi wouldn’t want that, Jinx. You know it as well as I do.”
Jinx’s fists clenched at her sides, her expression hardening. The manic grin was gone, replaced by something raw and unshakable—defiance mixed with grief. “You don’t get it,” she snapped, her voice low and edged with venom. “I don’t care about your stupid world, or the rock, or any of this shit. If saving Vi means the rest of it burns, then so be it. I’d choose her every damn time.”
The weight of her words hung heavy in the cold air, and for a moment, no one spoke. Jinx’s gaze flicked back to the fortress, her features softening just slightly as though the walls themselves held her answers. “If she’s in there,” she continued, her voice quieter but no less resolute, “I’m getting her out. No one’s stopping me. Not you, not Caitlyn, not Ambessa—and not some stupid gemstone.”
Mel exhaled slowly, her golden eyes narrowing as she studied Jinx. “And if it comes down to a choice?” she asked, her voice calm but pointed. “Between Vi and that gemstone—between her life and everything else—what then?”
Jinx turned to face her fully, her glowing eyes blazing with a clarity that was almost unnerving. “Then I’ve already made my choice,” she said firmly, her tone final, leaving no room for argument. “It’s Vi. It’s always going to be Vi.”
Caitlyn stepped between them, her eyes flicking from Jinx to Mel as she tried to steady the tension hanging over the group. Her face softened slightly as she looked at Jinx, the red streak in her hair catching faintly in the dull light—an echo of Vi, a reminder of what they were fighting for. “We’ll find her,” Caitlyn said firmly, as though speaking the words aloud might make them true. “But Mel’s right about the gemstone. If Ambessa’s here, it’s because she has plans for it—and for us. We need to be smart about this.”
Jinx said nothing, but her jaw clenched, and she kicked a patch of snow at her feet. The fire hadn’t left her eyes, but for once, she didn’t argue further. Her mind has already been made.
Mel turned back toward the fortress, its dark silhouette looming against the pale, wind-torn sky. Her mother was there, just beyond those walls—golden armor gleaming, commanding soldiers and siege equipment like chess pieces on a board. And somewhere inside, the gemstone pulsed, its dangerous energy calling to Mel in ways she still didn’t understand. Her chest tightened again, and she pressed a hand against it, the tingling energy still there, coiling beneath her ribs like a silent promise.
As the wind howled through the barren landscape, carrying with it the weight of what was to come, Caitlyn pulled her cloak tighter around herself and glanced at Jinx. “Let’s move,” she said, her voice quiet but resolute. “We don’t have much time.”
The three of them pressed forward, the snow crunching under their boots as the fortress loomed closer. Ambessa Medarda’s shadow stretched over the icy field, dark and unrelenting. Whatever lay ahead—Vi, the gemstone, Ambessa’s plans—none of it would come without a fight.