Ava started from her sleep with a moan. Her body shivered and was drenched in sweat.

“Terrible dream?”

She looked at the man in the cabin with her, he put a few things into a chest and came to her side. Ava nodded and attempted to sit up. Her memories of the man before her were fragmented, but he seemed to have harbour no ill intent.

“I was admiring your weaponry. I have never seen their like, perhaps the dagger, but not one crafted from diamond-crust obsidian. The orc smith who crafted them had great skill. How do you fare?” Oswin asked, touching the back of his fingers to her neck.

“Better, I ache again.”

“And you did not feel such while afflicted with the Dark Plague?”

Ava shook her head, growing weary from the effort. “No, nothing. Just unending cold, hunger and Beast’s warmth.” Ava started and scanned the room. “Where is Beast?”

“Safe outside the room. It has been hard to separate him from you. I have healed his leg, and he should have no long-term damage so long as he remains off it and rests. As should you, you still have a fever. We have eliminated the Dark Plague, but your wound became infected from remaining untreated for so long.

“But it shows great promise that you have awakened. Prince Caeden will be pleased. We have questions. Mine have to do with the satchel you carry.”

Ava hugged the satchel tighter to her body.

“Rest easy, Miss Ava. I will not take it from you, but whatever it holds is powerful and potentially dangerous to spill out of a magi’s satchel in such a manner. Prince Caeden has heeded my council to have it kept secret for now. People mistrust you already, do not give them cause for it when you are questioned about it. Your bow and weapons lay in the chest, along with some clothes. I doubt you will find much use for your armour though, whatever cut you sliced right through it.”

“Where are we?” Ava asked.

“Anchored off the coast of Spectermere, we were waiting...”

“No!” Ava yelled, dashing from the bed.

#

“Every tale of Spectermere I have heard tells of the twisting vortex so massive it spans from sky to land and can be seen from the edge of the Frozen Sea. Yet, we are close to shore and nothing,” Caeden muttered with disappointment. Seeing the great and powerful Frost Spirit even from this distance would have delighted him. “What a miserable land this is, only fog as far as the eye can see. It is no wonder the spirit decided to leave it behind.”

“Nothing of this accursed place rings true, the tales tell of a foreboding from the land, a warning to travellers and there is none. Only strange silence,” Knight-Commander whispered beside him. He looked through the spyglass to the barely visible remnants of a burnt settlement, “It is hard to tell but, I make out no survivors nor any bodies among the rubble.”

“We would be sailing into a possible ambush if we port. Is there no other way to make landfall?”

“None charted, Your Grace. We could sail around and hope to find another beach between the cliffs, but we would risk sailing into Turbulent Ocean waters,” Knight-Captain Shael answered.

“Why did you come here? I warned you not to!” the girl shrieked from the entryway.

 She rushed to the anchor chain to pull it from the water. A sailor attempted to stop her, but she turned and punched him in the face. The effort seemed to weaken her, and her legs buckled. The sabre cat was instantly at her side, hissing at everyone who dared come close.

Caeden sighed, walking to the crowd to calm flared tempers when his attention caught on large, bulbous eyes staring at them through the ship’s wooden railing. It blinked. Two pairs of eyelid eyelids closed and opened when it did. A croak emanated from its position before it climbed with wet round fingers to the top of the railing and squatted on it. Its mop of tangled brown hair clumped in frozen icicles. Parts of its skin were a beautiful hue of blue with black spots and shone as the sparse light caught it, only the skin down his front seemed to have the pale skin of a human.

“What is Holden’s name? Are these frog – men?” Knight-Commander said, coming to his side and fingering his sword.

“Knight-Captain Shael,” Caeden ordered.

“All hands on deck!” Knight-Captain Shael shouted to the men standing frozen in place.

Caeden grabbed and pulled Miss Ava to her feet, intent on getting her to the safety of the cabin.

The frogman climbed from the railing and croaked again, the skin of his neck extended as it did. It drew the fishbone sword at his side and attacked Ser Morley. The Knight-Commander met its parry as Caeden dragged the girl away.

Curse the Reaper. The frogmen were swarming the ship. Caeden drew his great sword and cut down the one that crossed his path, but Ava disappeared from his side in the chaos. He caught sight of the sabre cat as it danced around his quarry, distracting it until Oswin’s fireball engulfed it from behind.

Suddenly, a shadow blocked his path, so dark it seemed to take on a corporeal form. Burning red eyes flickered with excitement.

“Our time has come, Prince. Join with me and the Empire you yearn to rule will be yours, along with all Archaicron,” it said.

Ser Morley jumped in front of him, his sword swinging. The steel blade passed harmlessly through the shadow with every strike he landed. The shadow’s arm transformed into solid black glass and in an instant, the Knight-Commander fell limply to the ground.

Caeden’s limbs froze, cold fear running through his veins as the shadow approached. It reached for him. He felt the dark presence enter his mouth and nose, and he choked.

“Do not fight me. It is your destiny to carry me to mine,” the voice echoed in his mind.

Caeden fell to his knees, watching the shadow enter him. He recoiled from the darkness entering his mind, helpless to defend against its invasion.

As his vision darkened, Ava appeared from the shadows awash in light. The blade she brandished shone so brightly that it nearly blinded him. She slashed through the shadow, and he felt the painful cut of the accursed sword as if the injury were his own. The shadow disappeared from his sight and mind, and only its furious shriek echoed in his head.

The ship turned about and sailed into open waters, the shadow was gone, but the frogmen still swarmed their ship. Caeden could not find the will to move or to fight off the attack. The ship was lost, he was lost, and his men would die. Holden help us!

Ava reached into her satchel, grew out a glimmering crystal and collapsed to her knees. He caught her in his arms, her body aflame with fever.

“I – do not know if it will work,” she muttered, her breath clouding in the chilling air. “It attacked Minervin and the Draugr, but not Beast.”

“What is it?” The crystal levitated from her hand as he asked, it spun mid-air and Caeden swore he saw a woman form from it.

“It is the Spirit of Frost, the Whirlwind of Spectermere,” Ava said.

Caeden shielded her from the sudden burst of wind that erupted from the spirit, his limbs growing stiff and numb when it passed over them.

It felt like an eternity before the icy winds died down. Caeden’s ears ached, the tips stinging from exposure. Thin shards of ice fell from his body as he tried to move his stiff limbs and check on the girl.

She was shivering uncontrollably. Her lips were cracked and her cheeks gaunt on pale blue skin. Her breaths clouded in the air before short, quick, and shallow while she held up the bag for the crystal to fall into. Even now, with one foot in the grave, there was still fight in her eyes, and it shamed him greatly.

He scanned the ship. The wind blew many of the frogmen overboard and those that remained were frozen in place. The ship’s entire surface was covered in a layer of frost. His men were shuffling stiffly on the deck, caught off guard and warily eying the frozen statues. They were uncertain of what to do next.

“Knight-Captain Shael,” Caeden moved to stand, and his knees groaned in protest. He bit down the ache. He resolved that would die first before appearing so weak to his men ever again.

“Yes, Your Grace?” The Knight-Captain was instantly at his side.

“Have the men throw those things overboard and make sure they truly are dead before they do.”

“Yes, Prince Caeden.”

Caeden eyes drifted to Spectermere as it slowly shrunk into the distance, hovering above a cliff face was a lone shadow. Though he could not see its glowing red eyes, it pined Caeden in place, exposing deeply suppressed desires with its intense stare and his heart beat with dread. He wrenched his gaze away and looked at the girl as she pulled at his cloak, attempting to stand.

“Os…”

“It is fortunate for us that wraiths cannot travel over large expanses of water. Banishing that one to The Deep may prove difficult. I will get Miss Ava below decks to warm up, Your Grace, no need to worry,” Oswin appeared, pulling the girl to her feet like a toddler. “Send anyone to me in need of medical aid.”

Once Oswin led the girl downstairs, Caeden walked to Ser Morley’s body. His hand instantly went to his hilt as the Knight-Commander jerked and wheezed. Ser Morley pushed himself up into a sitting position, his face twisting in pain as he pawed at the armour above his heart.

“Knight-Commander Morley! Are you injured?” Caeden assisted the man to his feet.

The Knight-Commander looked at his hand incredulously. All the pain was gone from his face now, replaced by disbelief.

“How strange? I could have sworn the shade cut me.”