Ash fell like frozen gray needles against Onyx’s skin. Every breath felt like inhaling shattered glass, cutting his lungs from the inside out. He pulled his dark collar higher, trying to block out the biting cold that seemed to seep from the very earth.
Behind him, Xime’s boots crunched loudly against the frosted ground. That constant, rhythmic noise was driving Onyx insane. It was a reminder that he wasn't alone, that his survival was currently tied to the loud, bright rival walking a few paces back.
Keep your voice down," Onyx hissed, not bothering to look back. "We aren't in safe territory anymore."
Nobody is alive to hear us," Xime replied, his tone surprisingly quiet but still holding that annoying, inherent warmth. "This place is dead, Onyx. There is nothing out here but ice and old bones."
Lightlark’s borderlands had always been harsh, but now they resembled a graveyard of pure frost. Twilight hung over the sky like a bruised, unblinking eye, refusing to let the sun rise or the darkness fully settle. Stagnant gray light washed over the ruined skeletal trees lining the path.
Walking alongside each other was an exercise in pure torment. Onyx could feel the radiant heat rolling off Xime even from a distance. It was an offensive, tempting pressure, a physical reminder of the sun magic humming beneath Xime’s skin. Onyx clutched his dark iron daggers tighter, his knuckles turning white under his leather gloves.
Golden light pulsed faintly beneath Xime’s collar, radiating outward in soft, rhythmic waves. It was a biological reaction to the extreme cold, a defense mechanism Onyx envied. Onyx’s own shadow magic felt sluggish, coiled tight in his chest like a frozen serpent, refusing to stretch out into the biting air.
You're brooding again," Xime noted, stepping up to match Onyx's stride. "Your jaw is so tight I can hear your teeth grinding from here. If you keep this up, you'll crack a tooth before we even reach the peaks."
I am calculating," Onyx muttered, keeping his eyes trained on the treacherous path ahead. "And you are talking too much. Save your breath. We have miles of frozen ash before we even reach the base of the Wyrmtooth Peaks."
Sharp, jagged peaks loomed in the far distance, their white crowns piercing the dark sky. The air grew thinner with every mile, choking out what little warmth remained in the atmosphere. Every muscle in Onyx’s body was tense, braced against the inevitable onslaught of the void's energy.
Bitter wind whipped through the narrow mountain pass, carrying the scent of old soot and dead magic. The ruins of Oakhaven finally materialized through the gray haze. It had once been a bustling border town, a hub for merchants and travelers. Now, it was a silent tomb.
Entering the town square, the true horror of the twilight's touch became undeniable. Onyx stopped dead in his tracks. His chest tightened, a cold knot of dread twisting in his gut.
People stood frozen in place, captured in moments of sheer panic. They weren't dead in the traditional sense; they had been turned into lifeless, crystalline statues. A merchant stood behind his wooden stall, his hand forever reaching for a bag of coins that glinted with frost.
A mother stood with her arms outstretched, forever trying to shield a small child who was also frozen mid-flight. Glacial frost coated their eyelashes, their hair, and their clothes, turning them into pale, translucent monuments of the twilight's absolute cruelty.
This is horrible," Xime whispered, stepping closer to Onyx.
Heat bled off Xime’s body, a physical temptation that Onyx desperately wanted to lean into. Onyx forced himself to step away, his boots grinding into the ash. He hated how much he wanted that warmth, hated the weak pull of it.
It is a warning," Onyx said, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. "The twilight void doesn't just kill. It freezes life in limbo. It strips away the cycle of life and death, leaving only this stagnant nightmare."
Dark magic hummed weakly in the corners of the ruined town, buried deep beneath the oppressive frost. Onyx could feel it. It was a faint, throbbing pulse of shadow-essence, trapped beneath a shattered carriage near the center of the square.
Onyx needed that magic. Without shadow-essence to replenish his reserves, his own power would eventually freeze over, leaving him entirely defenseless against whatever lay ahead in the peaks. He couldn't rely on Xime’s light forever.
Kneeling beside the shattered carriage, Onyx focused his attention on the pool of solidified darkness pooling beneath the rotting boards. It looked like liquid obsidian, frozen solid but vibrating with residual energy.
What are you doing?" Xime asked, his golden eyes narrowing in suspicion as he hovered nearby.
Securing our survival," Onyx retorted, ignoring the sharp sting of the air as he pulled off his right glove. "I need to harvest this essence. My reserves are dangerously low."
Reaching out his bare hand, Onyx hovered his fingers over the pool of dark energy. Black mist began to rise from his palm, curling down toward the frozen obsidian. He began to draw the power upward, feeling the familiar, cold rush of shadow magic.
Suddenly, an agonizing pain shot up his arm.
Frost, thick and gray, erupted from the shadow-essence. It didn't just coat his hand; it latched onto his fingertips like a living parasite. Onyx gasped, trying to pull his hand back, but his fingers refused to move.
Gray, stone-like calcification crept rapidly up his knuckles. The skin turned to solid, lifeless ash, freezing his joints in place. The absolute cold of the twilight void was reacting to his attempt to steal its frozen magic.
Onyx!" Xime yelled, lunging forward.
Stay back!" Onyx tried to scream, but the cold was seizing his throat, turning his breath to ice.
Before Onyx could push him away, Xime yanked his own thick, fur-lined coat off his shoulders. He threw it around Onyx’s trembling frame. Golden, blinding heat flooded Onyx’s senses as Xime wrapped his arms around him over the coat, pressing his warm chest firmly against Onyx's freezing back.
Pure, unfiltered light magic surged from Xime’s body. It forced its way through the heavy layers of fabric, sinking deep into Onyx’s skin and rushing down his arm. It was like liquid fire pouring through his veins, combating the icy parasite.
Slowly, the gray stone cracking across Onyx’s hand began to melt away. The calcification receded, turning back into harmless dark mist before dissolving completely into the air.
Trembling violently, Onyx pulled away from the embrace, stumbling back against the ruined carriage. He gasped for air, his hand shaking as he stared at his restored flesh.
Don't touch me," Onyx growled, though his voice lacked its usual sharp edge. He clutched the coat tightly around his shoulders, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Xime stood in the freezing air, clad only in his thin tunic. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breathing out thick white puffs of steam. Despite the lack of layers, his skin glowed with a faint, radiant gold.
You would have turned to stone," Xime said, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. "You would have been another statue in this square. You're welcome, by the way."
Anger flared in Xime’s eyes, but beneath it lay a genuine, terrifying worry. It was that worry that made Onyx’s stomach turn. He hated it. He hated the way Xime looked at him, as if he were something worth saving.
This warmth, this unearned protection, made Onyx’s chest ache with a dangerous, terrifying feeling. Dependence was a death sentence. He had learned that lesson years ago when those he trusted had abandoned him to the darkness.
If he relied on Xime’s light to survive, he would be at the mercy of a rival who could abandon him at any moment. He couldn't let himself become dependent on Xime's touch.
Staring at Xime’s radiant form, a dark, desperate thought took root in Onyx’s mind. A cold determination settled in his chest, sharper than any blade.
Stealing Xime’s golden spark permanently would solve everything. He wouldn't need to beg, he wouldn't need to trust, and he wouldn't need to fear the absolute cold ever again. He would take the light for himself and cast his rival aside.
Keep your coat," Onyx muttered, clutching the heavy fur around his shoulders anyway, hating how much he needed its lingering warmth. He turned away, refusing to look at Xime’s bare shoulders.
Xime sighed, rubbing his arms as they continued down the frozen main street. "We need to find shelter before the twilight deepens. The temperature is dropping fast."
Silent statues watched them pass, their lifeless eyes reflecting the gray, perpetual twilight. The town was a maze of frozen tragedies, a testament to the void’s relentless advance.
Onyx kept his gaze low, trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his hand. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of his dark thoughts pressing down on him. He had to find a way to siphon Xime's spark without killing him—or perhaps, if it came to it, he wouldn't care if it did.
Suddenly, a small figure caught his eye near the edge of a ruined stone well.
Recognizing the small woolen cloak and the braided hair, Onyx froze. His heart stopped.
Years ago, during a brutal raid on the borderlands, he had pulled this very child from a burning cellar. He had promised her she would be safe. He had told her to run to Oakhaven.
Now, she stood locked in ice, her small hand reaching out toward an empty sky, her face frozen in a silent scream.
Stepping closer, a strange tightness squeezed Onyx’s chest. He couldn't look away from her face, from the delicate features preserved in cold, unyielding crystal.
Onyx, we should keep moving," Xime warned, his voice tense as he stepped up beside him. "There's nothing we can do for them now."
Ignoring the warning, Onyx reached out, his hand trembling as he hovered over her frozen cheek. He wanted to feel if there was any life left, any spark of the girl he had once saved.
One of the frozen statues—a young child Onyx once rescued years ago—blinks her crystalline eyes and grabs Onyx's boot with a grip like iron.