The villagers gathered under the moonlight, murmuring prayers in a forgotten tongue. Aria stood at the center of a ring made from bones and frost-etched stones. She hadn't agreed to this, but refusal, apparently, was seen as weakness.
"She must pass the Frost-Walker's Trial," the elder announced. "As the prophecy demands."
Kael paced at the edge of the circle, his temper a taut wire. "This is insanity."
But Aria knew she had to play along—for now. These people had salvaged tech from the fallen world. Maybe even pieces of the old network. If she could earn their trust, she could find access.
The trial was simple: walk across the frozen lake beyond the camp and retrieve the relic trapped in its center. Easy—except the ice wasn't just cold. It was alive.
Rhea held her back before she stepped out. "The ice feeds off emotion. It's not just water. It remembers."
"Then I'll give it something to forget," Aria said softly.
Each step was harder than the last. The ice cracked beneath her, whispered things in voices that sounded like her mother. Her old commander. The doctor who promised she would wake to a better world.
But she kept walking.
At the center, she reached into the ice and pulled out the relic—a small black orb. It burned in her hand, despite the frost.
The whispers stopped.
And the ice did not break.