A lone monk, who had started his day by sweeping the dirt off the trail running along the southern shores of Lake Na’mel, sluggishly made his way from the temporary encampment towards the edge of the woods. A plume of dust rose around him, scintillating in hues of pink and gold. 

The rhythmic sweeping of the palm leaf broom made Anandil’s skin crawl. Occupying an old, rusty, steel bench close to the waters, she had decided to spend her morning in peace, watching the sun rise over the lake. Sleep eluded all who had camped there. The grief of losing the Cathedral of Neva was too near and too deep. 

Though the cathedral was destroyed, the surrounding city itself remained intact. Its place on the cliff was taken by a gargantuan hovering Aerozan war machine. Some citizens had fled towards Rud’vyr or had ended up camping with the monks, but a large part of the population were being held hostage. 

The thought of such a merciless incursion was distressing. Anandil rubbed her temple with the heel of her palm and sighed aloud.

‘What troubles you at this hour?’ came an oddly comforting voice from behind her. 

Recognising who it was, Anandil stood up and knelt down so fast that Aekis was surprised by her speed. But his expression remained inert. 

‘My Lord!’ Aekis’ response was a single grunt, which she had learnt to recognise as acknowledgement, and that she was allowed to rise. ‘I could not sleep. It’s just these thoughts… Why would Aeroz use coercion on us? That’s what the raiders did to them!’ 

‘Because it’s not Aeroz that has taken control of Neva,’ Aekis replied, gesturing to Anandil to follow him. With his hands behind him, he walked towards the tongue of the lake. 

‘Not Aeroz?’ Anandil breathed, following the Astraleid along the dusty trail. She pinched the side of her robes, holding it up, hoping to avoid besmirching the hem.  

‘Certificate has scouted every corner of that vessel,’ Aekis said as he ambled around the edge of the waters. ‘The battle corvette belongs to Aeroz, but the vessel was hijacked by a group of raiders from the west. They are the ones in control of this corvette known as Matdarka.’

‘So…’ Anandil breathed, astonished. ‘The raiders have reached Neva? Is this… it?’

‘There is hope, Disciple,’ Aekis heard fear in Anandil’s voice. He did not turn to face her, knowing that doing so would elicit pity. Instead, he continued on his path along the shore. ‘The Aerozans running the vessel are not dead. They are being held captive in the brig. They are a part of Aeroz’s KOE Contingency and were in search of Zov’ha, led by someone known as High Knight Gyvaen Ram. They were boarded by the raiders… who were also in search of Zov’ha.’ 

‘Everything seems to be revolving around Starchild Zov’ha!’

‘It is not her doing,’ Aekis reassured her. There is another… spinning the threads of destiny. 

Aekis continued walking unhurriedly until they reached the end of the shore, where a steep limestone cliff obstructed their southward path. Water-washed rock crevices, which could not have been shaped by the lake, gave the impression that this land had once been touched by an ancient sea. 

The lapping of lake water and the distant sounds of morning birds seemed to ease the fear of being captured or killed, or was it Aekis’ presence? Anandil could not be sure. Nonetheless, she felt a bit comforted now that her initial trepidation had melted away. 

Aekis examined the crevices on the limestone wall. A cool breeze from the east caught his attention. As the sun rose over the lake, a rare scene presented itself: the snowy peaks of Ire’zol were faintly visible at the horizon. Asenya… home! 

The smell of pines, the sounds of the gushing river Ch’huin... and visions of snow flooded his mind! He closed his eyes in an attempt to remember everything that had transpired in Asenya. His time there had been cut short… and there was no other place he could call home, not even Orbita Cygnus. 

‘The threat from the west… the raiders! They’re a foe far stronger and more dangerous than anything we’ve faced before…’ Aekis intoned at a deliberate pace, enunciating every word — it was as if he said it to convince himself rather than to relate to Anandil.  

‘What must we do?’ she whispered, taken aback by his sudden proclamation. 

What must we do, indeed? This was not his decision to make. 

In Orbita Cygnus, he had learnt about the Order of Saint Awynyth — the last of the Disciples — who had united under Awynyth’s banner to continue the teachings of the Astraleids. They revered the Astraleids as cosmological beings and had attended to their every bidding. He had been taught how to exercise power over them and to elicit admiration and honour… but he always thought it to be unfair. After all, he had lived amongst humans in Asenya — humans who treated Astraleids as equals. 

When he had left Orbita Cygnus, he had not expected to encounter any member from the Order. He had expected to be a shadow in the ether, a lone wolf hunting in the snow… spinning threads of destiny? No! 

“…follow the trail of the white fox”, the Astraleid Elder had advised him before he had left the orbital city. Amaha — the white fox — was just like that… a spider, spinning threads in the shadows, reshaping destiny. Such atrocities shall not become of me! 

This was a new beginning… he had shown himself to the world. He had dug his nails too deep into the soil, and it made sense to keep digging rather than give up on the scent, no matter how faint. This was the only way he could find Qiva — the missing Astraleid — the only one who knew anything about Omnichorium. His guardian, and his truest friend. 

I am the wolf in the snow… and a wolf… herds no sheep. 

When he opened his eyes, Aekis had to squint to avoid being blinded by the light of the rising sun. But there is one who can!

‘My Lord!’ Friar Dew’s distant voice came from the encampment. He jogged hurriedly towards them, holding his mechanical arm with his human one as if it was about to fall off. When he neared, he kneaded the communications device in his ear with his finger and said, ‘Starchild Zov’ha… she awakens!’ 

The southern face of Neva had been torn asunder by a landslide that had been caused by the destruction of the cathedral. The trees on either side of the fissure stood leaning away from the devastation as if bewildered by the horror they had witnessed — mourning for the loss of their comrades that once made up the entire forest. 

Chunks of stone that once were a part of the building’s walls lay strewn across the rift all the way to the shore. The glade in which Zov’ha arrived, riding upon Efiros, -was a convolution of deadwood and dust-covered debris. 

Though the Elken bear had been suspicious at first, afraid that Zov’ha would go into a frenzy again, their reunion had been nothing but magical. Leaving the others, they had taken off to run into the wilderness and enjoy the time they had missed when they were apart. 

Smoke rose from the plateau like dark fingers reaching for the sky, even two days after the attack. She watched the dark, angular shadow of Matdarka hovering hauntingly at the top with awe and consternation. 

When she had first heard the account of the assault she was anxious and riddled with grief, but now that she had had time to process it she raged for vengeance. Standing alone on what appeared to be a stone corbel from the cathedral, Zov’ha took in the sight of the ruin dejectedly, fiddling with the frost crystal and memory stone around her neck. 

Her chain of thought was broken by the familiar sound of step pods. A troop of twenty-or-so monks approached from the woods, and as they neared, they hastily alighted from their vehicles, immediately forming ranks and kneeling down in reverence. Anandil Homa and Friar Dew marched up to their goddess and knelt at her feet.  

‘My Lady!’ the former Abbess said nothing more, even though she wanted to. The emotions that stirred within her were too strong to avoid faltering words. 

A febrile silence had fallen upon the glade; it was as if the monks were waiting for something to happen, or for Zov’ha to command them. A skein of cackling geese flying overhead disturbed the lull — a distraction from a dramatic entrance. 

A pall of black mist swirled, unveiling a shadow of a man, appearing right in front of Zov’ha; and without a second’s delay his name escaped her lips in a whisper, ‘Aekis…’ 

If Anandil, Friar Dew, or any of the monks had been watching, they would have witnessed a sight most rare — Zov’ha’s mouth parted to reveal a toothy smile so wide that thick creases formed under her nose puffing up her cheeks like rising dough in an oven, and it wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes. She had not been this elated for… years.  

‘Aekis!’ she repeated once more, tears flowing down her face that he could only compare to dew drops falling off fronds at the break of dawn. ‘I remember… everything!’ 

Leaping off the fallen corbel, she embraced Aekis with so much passion, that if he hadn’t expected it, he surely would have keeled over. Catching her in his arms, his senses burned with her scent — pinewood, interlaced with the fragrance of river water. Asenya… home! He let out a sigh as he tightened his grasp around her waist. 

‘I’m glad… you’re… you’re alive!’ His voice was muffled as his face was buried in her shoulder. She was much taller than him — it was quite different from when they were only children and she had been the shorter one. But somehow, even after everything they had been through, this very moment felt exactly the same — as if nothing had changed since Aekis had left Asenya. 

This is it… this is all I need. The relief that Aekis felt was as if a lifetime of burden had suddenly been taken off his shoulder. I cannot lead… but here is one who can. And I will follow her every footstep. He would be her sword when she needed it. He would be her wolf in the snow, keeping his eyes wide open — a single blade of grass out of place and he would give up his life to protect her. 

She was a queen of her people. Of Neva. Of Asenya. A Frost Princess. But for him, she was a kindred spirit. A better half of himself. They were like two fish in a pond that were torn apart. But now…

‘Thank you,’ Zov’ha sniffed, gulping air to stifle a sob.

‘For what?’ 

‘For coming back!’ Of course! Only now did he realise that every path he had taken in his life was a subconscious decision to get back to her. He made a silent promise to himself that no matter what happens he would never leave her side. 

Minutes seemed to ebb away into timelessness as they remained locked in embrace. It was only when the subtle sounds of shifting from the grovelling monks disturbed the quiescence did they unwillingly part and turn towards their retinue. 

‘Rise,’ Aekis whispered, turning around and standing beside Zov’ha. This is my place. 

The disciples rose in unison, and Anandil, who was the closest, spoke, ‘What is your command, O’ divine ones?’

Aekis’ response was immediate and definitive, ‘I am not the leader of your people. But Zov’ha is, and I will follow her wherever she leads.’

Anandil turned to her then, ‘Goddess Zov’ha…’

‘No!’ Zov’ha’s abrupt reaction seemed to startle Anandil, and she recoiled as if she had been whipped. ‘No…’ Zov’ha repeated gently, and stepping forward, she held Anandil’s arm tenderly. She gave the former Abbess a generous smile, ‘No more “goddess”… please.’ 

The monks were equally taken aback and looked at each other in disbelief. Zov’ha’s countenance assumed a fierce and respectable expression as she walked up to the ranks of monks. With the voice of a former captain, she barked, ‘No more titles! No more undue reverence! We Astraleids may have been seen as gods in the past… but no longer! We are one and the same, humans and Astraleids, albeit with a few differences. But we will walk this world as one.’ 

Anandil and Friar Dew stepped back to join the ranks of monks, still unsure of this new dogma. ‘Then, my… my Lady,’ Friar Dew fumbled. ‘If you will still lead us… what may we call you?’

Zov’ha’s ashy hair fell upon her face as she considered her next words carefully. Yes… she would still lead them. Many things on her path had to be set straight. Starting with Neva, she would have to march all the way back to Aeroz, and then to Asenya. Would they follow her? 

‘Those dearest to me may call me Zov’ha,’ she said, at last. ‘But to all others I am Zovhara Ashfrost! Let that name spread fear in the hearts of those who selfishly stifle the freedom of the peoples of this land! Conquerors, raiders, every criminal down to the last thief… let them fear us! Those who seek to protest against the injustice of this world may rally under our banner!’ 

The eyes of her audience lit up with renewed admiration and spirit. Feeling inebriated with hope, the monks beamed and nodded. Some cheered a word or two in Aewylen. Even Efiros grunted, huffed, and stamped with his forepaws. 

Aekis stepped forward and Zov’ha glanced at him as he drew abreast. He’s a pacifist, she remembered out of nowhere. He won’t condone violence. Taking a deep breath she eyed every monk in file. And neither should I. 

‘Let it be clear,’ she continued, ‘that as far as possible, this Order shall refrain from unnecessary violence. No harm should come to anyone… no more deaths! Not even the raiders! Enough lives had been taken — no more! Every foreseeable situation will be dealt with tact and mercy from now on!’

When Anandil and the monks bowed in acknowledgement, Anandil asked without looking up, ‘Where do we start?’ 

Zov’ha turned towards the cliff that held the ruins of the cathedral aloft. ‘We begin... by retaking Neva.’