I surveyed the snowy courtyard, colored a pale blue from the faint moonlight. A sharp, freezing wind whistled through the crumbling palace behind me. I slowly stepped into the courtyard, eyes locked on EW-7-1. The Gods’ Wall.

It was a section of the far wall behind the palace, carved with three large animal figures; a wolf in the center, a lion to its right, and a tiger to its left. On the steps below the carving, there were old offerings of poetry and jewelry and clothing, which hadn’t been moved thanks to the substantial electric shocks delivered to any attempting to take the offerings.

Had anyone attempted to give offerings?

The wall was also carved with some sort of story, although we hadn’t even come close to translating the strange mix of Latin and Russian that was found all around the stone-cold kingdom. Ice wrote in that language. He was likely fluent in it.

I slowly walked across the frozen courtyard, towards the carvings of what we assumed to be the gods of this dead kingdom. The Winter Alliance.

Had Ice lived here? Was this his home at one point, decades ago? Did he worship these gods, give them gifts? Did he shop in the market, sew his own clothes, dip his head or bow before the royals? Did he witness what happened? Did he know why there was frozen blood along the palace floors and walls, why the windows and doors were shattered, why scans had shown hundreds of skeletons buried beneath the frozen dirt?

I had a feeling he did.

I looked back up at the wall.

“...Who are you?” I breathed. “What are you? And how does Ice figure in to all this? This place has been abandoned for at least a century. He’s immortal, but…. Who is he? Where did he come from?” I looked into the eyes of the wolf. “Where did you come from? And where are you now?”

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. The harsh Alaskan air was surprisingly nice, even if it was well below freezing. My nose and cheeks stung. My breath clouded in front of me.

I opened my eyes. I slowly stepped forward, eyes locked on the carving of the wolf. I removed my gloves, dropping them on the snowy ground. I stepped up onto the stairs, delicately and carefully avoiding the old offerings of pottery and jewelry, and reaching out to the carving.

My fingers brushed the freezing wall. I set my palm against it.

A sharp jolt went through my body. Images flashed through my head.

Children laughing, running around a maypole.

Artisans selling their craft in a snowy market.

Three royal families standing for a portrait.

A stained glass window with four humanoid figures.

Gifts set down on the steps, gone by morning.

Blue mist seeping out of the Gods’ Wall.

Dead, bloodied bodies.

A tiger boy with metal limbs, screaming in an empty white hallway, covered with and surrounded by blood.

Tiger quadruplets, wearing near-identical uniforms and masquerade masks, running along rooftops in the dead of night.

A wolf man with long white hair, sleeping on a couch.

Lightning flashed. A wolf howled.

I choked and gasped for air, coughing.

My body was cold. Freezing.

There was a bright light above me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was laying in a bed, covered in blankets with a mask over my face. My eyelids were sticky and heavy. Monitors steadily sounded from somewhere above me. I could faintly hear voices in the distance.

“Welcome back.”

“Mm, what happened?” I turned my head to see Junior Director Thompson.

“You tell me,” he was leaning on the wall, arms crossed. “A guard found you with your palm against the Gods’ Wall. Managed to pull you away and get you back here but…. You were having a seizure. Then your heart gave out for a bit.” He pushed himself off the wall, walking to stand at the end of the bed and grip the white plastic footboard. “What the fuck were you doing? You know no one is supposed to go near EW-7-1, let alone touch it!”

My brows furrowed. “It…. I don’t know. I couldn’t stop myself.” I slowly struggled to sit up against the pillows. “I saw… things. Children. A stained glass window. Bodies.” I gripped the blankets, involuntary shivering.

“Okay,” Jr. Dir. Thompson sighed, sitting in the chair beside me, opening up his tablet. “Walk me through all the things you saw. One by one, as many details as you can remember.”

I nodded, leaning back and closing my eyes. I took a deep breath, “Children. Running around a maypole. It’s dark. Snowy. There’s lights in the sky. The northern lights. They’re dressed warm, but… not as warm as we are. Wearing fur and leather; traditional clothing, looks like. They’re animals. Like Ice.”

“Humanoids with animal ears and tails?”

“Yes,” I focused on one girl. She looked like a lion.

“What next?”

“A market. Also dark, still see the northern lights. Artisans. Pottery, woven tapestries, fabrics, clothing…. Then… three families. The royal families. Posing for… for photographs, I think. Then…,” I frowned in concentration. “A stained glass window, with three ‒ no, four ‒ figures. They look like… the gods. They have to be the gods but… human. A lion, a tiger, and two wolves.”

“What did you see after that?”

“The gifts, on the steps, at the wall,” I whispered. “Gone by morning. Then… from the carvings… blue mist. Taking shape of… of humans. People. The gods. And then… the bodies,” I opened my eyes. I swallowed the thick emotion in my throat, “Dead bodies. The attack.”

“Did you see who took the bodies?”

I shook my head. “After that, I saw… a tiger boy. With metal limbs. The same metal as Ice. He was… screaming, all bloody. Then, there were… quadruplets, I think they were. Tiger quadruplets, wearing similar school-like uniforms.”

“Describe the uniforms.”

“Black. Or… maybe dark blue? With gold edging,” I struggled to remember. “They wore masks. Like, masquerade masks, made of black and gold. They had golden hair. It looked like four girls.”

“Anything else?”

“A wolf man, with long white hair,” I recalled the final image. “He was sleeping on a couch, and it looked like there was a fire somewhere in front of him. Th-that was the last one.”

Thompson slowly nodded. He stood up, “Get some rest, you’ll go back to the main facility tomorrow morning. And be ready to use those images against EW-54; we may need leverage.”

“Wait,” I said, sitting up a bit straighter. “The Gods’ Wall. We’ve established that trying to harm it or take the offerings results in electric shocks. Have we tried giving the gods an offering?”

He stared at me for a moment. “Elaborate.”

“Well, clearly they don’t like people taking things from them. Maybe we’d get more answers if we gave them something? Maybe they’re just bitter and sad about being forgotten, then studied by a bunch of clueless humans.”

Thompson hummed, “Hm, I don’t know if any offerings were given to the Gods’ Wall. It seems likely, though. If not, I’ll discuss it with the other directors. Now get some rest.”