A cold tick echoed. In the deepest hours, when even the enclaved settlements slept, a faint ice-crackle sliced the still air. Kaelen's eyes snapped open. Silence followed, profound and heavy. He rose, a shadow detaching from the packed-snow cot. Stood still, gaze fixed on the iron plate door. Small, this ice-cell. Barely room to stretch. No windows offered glimpse of the frozen world outside. Just the door, thick and rusted, marked the only exit from his cramped solitude. Held breath, listening. Clink. Another sound. Soft, metallic, from the door handle. Someone was turning it. Click. Echoed too loudly in Kaelen's ears, already attuned to the night's whispers. Creak. The lock yielded. Door swung inward a sliver. A figure peered through the gap. Not accustomed to the gloom, he hesitated. Wielded a sharpened shard of glacier-ice, longer than an arm. Kaelen remained frozen, an extension of the room's chill, observing. The intruder stepped in, cautiously. Left foot first. A soft *snap* echoed. Ice-cord, barely visible in the dark, stretched taut beneath the man’s worn boot. The trap. Kaelen's careful handiwork. *Thud!* A dull impact, followed by a choked curse. "Ugh!" An icicle, razor-sharp, had dropped from the low ceiling. Struck the man's shoulder. Not lethal, but deep enough to sting. Designed to disable, not kill. The intruder stumbled back, clutching his injury. "What in the Everwinter...?" His voice, rough, familiar. Joric, the miner from the adjacent ice-cell. From the corner, Kaelen moved. Not a whisper of sound. Exploded from the floor, mounting Joric's chest. Seized the dropped glacier-shard, pressed its point against the man's grimy throat. Joric stared up, bewilderment warring with terror. "You... little frost-rat!" Kaelen’s voice, a low rumble, seemed to deepen the room's chill. "Thought I wouldn't notice a neighbor slinking in like a starved warg?" A slight pressure on the shard. A bead of blood welled. Joric lived just beyond the thin ice wall. Passed Kaelen's cell daily. His eyes, never kind, had held a hungry glint last night. Kaelen tapped Joric’s cheek lightly with his free hand. Cold, detached. "Stealing from a child, Joric? Even in the Frost-Gnawl, that's a new low." "Child? You call this an ice-cell, not a den for a pup like you! Let go. You know my brother?" "Should I?" Kaelen’s expression remained stone. Joric grimaced, struggling beneath Kaelen’s surprisingly heavy weight. "He's Kaelon. A Frost-Lightning Weaver. An Ice-Shard." "A Weaver lives in the Frost-Gnawl? Spin a better tale, Joric." "Temporary. For a reason. It's true!" "Then you should have kept your reason quiet instead of sniffing around a boy's cell for valuables." "Ha! Damn it. I saw it, didn't I? A proper Ice-Fire Shard, glinting like a star." Kaelen clicked his tongue, a soft sound of self-reproach. Last night. Admiring the small, pulsing Ice-Fire Shard he'd found. A rare, vibrant thing, stolen from a frozen crevice. Joric, peeking through a crack, must have seen its faint glow. The Frost-Gnawl. Beggar's Den. A maze of ice and desperation. No rules here beyond the strong taking from the weak. Weakness was a death sentence. Strength, a temporary indulgence. Kaelen knew these laws. Born and raised in the frigid underbelly of Hearthglow. His earliest memories were of frozen streets, forced begging. A thin body, always cold, always hungry. Escaping that life had meant shedding his past entirely. A silent escape from the 'den-master,' a ghost in the snow. Kaelen. A name he'd chosen for himself, a shield against the past. He'd done everything to survive. Pilfered, snuck, evaded. Everything but kill. Until now. Pondered Joric's fate. Kaelon. A Frost-Lightning Weaver. Dangerous. Joric's eyes, cunning, flickered. A flash of steel. A smaller ice-pick, hidden in Joric's sleeve. "Die, frost-rat!" Joric roared, twisting, swinging the hidden blade. Kaelen recoiled, swift as a winter gale. Joric pursued, eyes alight with feral desperation. Swung the pick again, again, aiming for Kaelen's heart. Kaelen grappled, a silent dance of death in the frigid cell. A cold breath escaped Kaelen. His concentration sharpened. The air around Joric's hands, imperceptibly, grew colder. A thin layer of frost bloomed on the ice-pick, slicking Joric's grip. A brief, fraction-of-a-second slip. *Plop!* The sound of blade sinking into flesh. "Argh!" Joric's scream was cut short. Collapsed, a gasp escaping his lips. Kaelen stood over him, the glacier-shard buried deep in Joric's chest. His own hand still on the hilt, cold seeping into his skin. Joric's eyes, wide with disbelief, locked onto Kaelen's. Then, a shudder. Stillness. "Damnation." Kaelen dropped to the packed snow. First time. The phantom sensation of the shard piercing bone, sinew, flesh, remained. A cold, alien imprint. "By the Everwinter! Why did you sneak in...?" Stared at the lifeless form. He'd known, deep down, this day would come. In the Frost-Gnawl, survival meant sacrifice. But not today. Not like this. A jolt of icy clarity. Kaelon. A powerful Ice-Shard. He wouldn't care Joric was a thief. Only that his brother lay dead. Disposing of the body? Impossible. The Frost-Gnawl was too densely packed. Every alley watched by desperate eyes. Better to leave it. Vanish. Decision made, Kaelen moved. Fast. Secured the ice-cell door from the outside, the dead man a secret within. Stepped into the frozen labyrinth. --- "By the Frost-Father! A true Frost-Lightning Weaver. My luck, even the Everwinter curses me." Kaelen muttered, cradled in the rattling belly of an armored snow-crawler. Steel plates, welded rough, groaned against the perpetual wind. Kaelon, Joric's brother. Not merely an Ice-Shard, but a feared Frost-Lightning Weaver. His pursuit, relentless. Even a low-tier Ice-Shard was dangerous. Kaelon was among the most formidable. A hundred such powerful beings existed across Crystalis. They were the architects of safety, the enforcers of order. Kaelen, a ghost from the Frost-Gnawl, was nothing. His death, a forgotten whisper in the wind. Kaelon's rage, a blizzard at his heels. No plea of self-defense would matter. "Today, I flee like a frozen wretch. But Kaelon, mark my words. I will return." Kaelon knew the Frost-Gnawl. Once, he'd emerged from its icy depths himself. He'd mapped Kaelen's movements, anticipated his escape. Cornered, Kaelen had boarded this snow-crawler. Bound for the Glacial Core Mines. Far beyond the Hearthglow Enclave's geothermal embrace. Once past the perimeter, Kaelon's tracking would falter. The Everwinter itself swallowed trails. *Never thought I'd willingly face the Glacial Core.* Kaelen pressed his lips into a thin line. Beyond Hearthglow Enclave, the Endless Ice-Wastes sprawled. Endless white, sculpted by ancient winds into treacherous formations. All manner of beasts lurked: Frost-Hounds, their howls carrying for miles; nimble Ice-Stalkers; even the rare, colossal Glacial Wyrms, deep beneath the ice. And the Ice Marauders. Human scavengers, preying on any isolated transport. No safety. Hearthglow, for all its inequalities, offered relative security from these terrors. A choice between slow death by cold or quick death by beast. Kaelen had clung to the former. Now, Kaelon had forced his hand. "Damn the Everwinter! If only I had awakened..." Centuries ago, Crystalis had fallen to the Everwinter. Ninety percent of life extinguished. Survivors clung to dwindling pockets of warmth. The Ice-Shards. They had risen from the ashes, manifesting powers over frost, wind, and the very essence of cold. Some gained physical fortitude. Others, the ability to wield specific forms of Ice Magic. They became the new lords. Even the least among them received privilege in Hearthglow. Kaelen was less than dust. His choice: the snow-crawler to the Glacial Core Mines. Seventy kilometers from Hearthglow, nestled deep within an ancient glacier. All Ice-Fire Shards mined there fueled Hearthglow. Mining was brutal. Narrow tunnels, picks swung by hand. Deaths, constant. A perpetual labor shortage. Hearthglow's authorities turned a blind eye. Any living body willing to work the Core was accepted, no questions asked. No identity checks. This was Kaelen's escape. *I will survive the Glacial Core. And then, Kaelon, I will have my due.* Gazed out the thick, frosted viewport. Resolve burned, a small, defiant ember against the world's cold. The snow-crawler groaned, packed with desperate souls. All miners. "Hey, frost-pup! Off to the Core, are you?" A voice. Burly man beside Kaelen, thick as a winter bear. Kaelen's reply was clipped, edged with ice. "What of it?" "Got a sharp tongue, little one. Still, mind yourself in the Core." "Why?" "Place is full of men who'd chew through solid ice for a tender morsel like you. Heh heh." The man's eyes, yellowed and predatory, raked Kaelen's slender frame. *Fucking beast.* Kaelen knew that gaze. The Frost-Gnawl had been rife with such men. His lean build, sharp features. He’d learned to move like a blizzard, to strike with sudden cold, or he would have been swallowed whole.

First Freeze