The world no longer existed.
There was only the cold.
An ancient cold. Primordial. Older than mankind, older than memory. It didn't just freeze the flesh—it suspended time. It whispered in the bones, slithered up the spine like a serpent of frost, and hollowed out the soul's marrow until it extinguished all warmth.
Rays staggered.
No. He didn't stagger.
He trembled. Completely. Like a man thrown naked into the midst of dead stars.
He fell to his knees. A raspy, short groan escaped him. Rex, at his side, let out a low growl. The wind howled around them, and the snow—no, not snow, something more hostile—fell horizontally, whipped by the wrath of a forgotten god.
Rays couldn't see a thing. That was nothing new. But now… he could feel. A density. A white pressure. The entire world seemed made of frozen cotton, of a silence so heavy it became alive.
He shouted:
— Where are we?!
And the Voice, calm, immutable, arose like a thought a thousand years old:
"You are north of the Mynoth Range. A land even the maps have forgotten. Nameless mountains. Endless peaks. Here, nothing grows. Nothing survives. Nothing forgives."
The blizzard seemed to approve, raging even harder.
— What's the goal of this quest?!
"Survive. For one month."
A moment of silence.
Then:
— …Begin.
"Don't forget: nightmares live here too."
— No, no… Why is he here?! he growled, placing a hand on Rex.
"Because he became part of you during the three stages of regret: fusion, and transcendence."
— And how am I supposed to make it through this?!
"You have skills. Use them."
— Then I want to use them!
"The one that suits this place… is Echolocation."
Rays clenched his teeth.
— Activate it.
"Authorization granted."
And suddenly, the world shifted.
Everything.
His senses exploded. Sounds became shapes. Every flake of snow rang like a tiny drum. He could hear the wind bouncing off stones. He could feel the crevices, the faults, the contours of invisible cliffs. Rex's heartbeat became a warm star in the night.
A network spread through his mind. A map of vibrations. The world was no longer seen. It was perceived. Read in the music of the air.
Overwhelmed, he collapsed backward.
— What the hell is this?!
"This skill only works if at least one of your feet touches the ground."
He pulled himself up, swaying.
— Great. I'll avoid walls… unless I start flying.
A dry, broken laugh escaped him. He turned toward Rex…
And froze.
Something was off. Rex's vibrations were different. Stronger. Broader. As if he had grown. As if…
— Voice? Why are Rex's sounds stronger? He barely reaches my knee!
"Because he became a horse."
— …A what?!
"He gained a skill. Transformation: Steed Form."
Rex neighed. Loudly. Clear. As sharp as silver.
Then he approached and, awkwardly sitting down, knocked Rays into the snow.
— …Okay. Confirmed. You've turned into a horse. Not that I have any idea what that is.
"Beast of transport. Once, the noblest and most loyal of companions."
Rays, sprawled in the cold, burst into a short, cracked but genuine laugh.
— Of course. My Rex. Faster, bigger. Still just as dumb.
Rex drew a perfect figure-eight in the snow, neighing proudly.
— I'll need to get used to your new noises…
"You've changed too."
— What now?
"You're wearing a white kimono, forged in eternal frost. And a katana named Snow Eclipse."
— Wait, my cane? That's what it was? What does it look like?
"Long, pale, almost spectral. It doesn't shine—it absorbs. Its blade seems forged from frozen silence. When you draw it, it sings. An ancient song. A lament no living being should ever hear."
— You're a poet now, Voice.
"It's your means of protection."
— You seem really invested in my survival.
He was still shivering.
Rex stepped closer and pressed his warm flank against him. Rays leaned his forehead against his companion.
— Big guy… we have to move. Or we'll end up ice statues.
Rex let out a deep neigh in agreement.
— Then let's go.
But just as he took a step, Rays froze.
Something.
Footsteps.
Far off, in the mist. Thin. Metallic. Tense. Accompanied by artificial, hollow sounds. Footsteps… but not human.
— Rex… We're not alone.
And suddenly, figures emerged from the blizzard. Three. Maybe four. The wind calmed just enough to reveal them. Men. Or almost.
One raised a hand.
— Travelers? You look lost.
Rays, frozen stiff, replied:
— I'm not lost. I just don't know where I'm going.
The man stepped forward… then stopped dead at the sight of Rex.
A breath of awe escaped him.
A horse? No. A mirage. A legend. A promise.
His mane floated like frozen light.
His body seemed carved from an ancient dream.
At each step, the snow didn't crunch—it bowed.
His eyes were calm, vast, unfathomable.
The other men's mounts shrank back, pitiful. One sneezed, the other stumbled.
The man dismounted slowly, respectfully.
— Verhem Latto. Merchant and traveler.
— Rays, he answered simply.
Verhem bowed.
— Allow me to escort you. This storm knows neither mercy nor end.
Rays was about to refuse.
But the Voice whispered:
"If I were you… I'd accept."
So he nodded.
— I accept.
Verhem smiled. He reached out a hand toward Rex.
— Such a steed… should lead the way.
Rays hesitated.
— I lose my senses if I'm not touching the ground. My skill needs contact.
Rex sensed it. He gently licked Rays's cheek.
A promise.
Rays smiled.
— I trust you. You always protect me.
He mounted his transformed companion for the first time.
A mane like sunlight, as if summer had frozen in its strands.
Eyes like oceans frozen in eternity.
A katana of moonlight at his back.
A white horse, nobler than childhood dreams.
And the silence of the mountain, bearing witness.
Rays was no longer a spectator.
He was writing his own chapter.
In a world where footsteps still echo, long after we're gone.