The cold seeped through their clothes as if it had fingers, gently prying apart each layer of warmth. Though they had arrived in Athen only hours ago, the chill in the air felt like it had always been a part of them. Each breath formed a ghost in the air, and even the smallest of movements sent cracks of ice into their muscles. Ashen stood beside Lin, their boots crunching softly over the frozen soil.
They hadn't spoken much since they'd entered the city. Not because there was nothing to say—no, there was too much. The streets were narrow, winding in places where once buildings must have thrived. Now, most were abandoned or patched up with scrap wood and sheets of cloth. The frost had climbed up the stone walls like ivy, glimmering under what little light crept through the thick grey sky.
"This place feels… like a graveyard," Kerr said suddenly, his voice low but not afraid. Just thoughtful. "But the kind where the dead never left."
Lin glanced sideways. "You always have to say the creepiest stuff, huh?"
He gave a small grin. "Just saying what it feels like."
Ashen didn't respond. He was still thinking about the boy from earlier—the one who'd bumped into him and ran without looking back. There had been something in the boy's eyes. Not fear. Not mischief. Something quieter, more desperate. A kind of silence.
"Do you think he dropped this on purpose?" Ashen asked aloud, pulling out a small cloth pouch from his coat pocket.
Lin and Kerr turned. Lin leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek as the wind teased it. "What's in it?"
Ashen untied the knot. Inside were two copper buttons, worn smooth, and a folded slip of paper.
He opened it.
The handwriting was uneven and jagged.
"Mother is sick again. If you see this, it means I couldn't find the herbs. I'm sorry. I'll be back soon, I promise."
Kerr frowned. "He looked our age, didn't he?"
"Maybe younger," Ashen murmured. "Should we try to find him?"
"No," Lin said softly. "This city's too wide. Too broken. We wouldn't even know where to start."
She reached out and gently closed Ashen's hand around the note.
"But maybe we'll see him again."
They kept walking.
Every corner of Athen held remnants of what it used to be. Wooden signs with faded paint, telling stories of shops that once sold food, clothes, laughter. Homes that now leaned awkwardly to one side, their windows like eyes too tired to stay open.
And yet, people still lived here.
A group of children ran past them. No shoes. Faces red from the cold. But laughing. Somehow, still laughing. One of them stopped to point at Kerr's scarf—a bright yellow one, the only color for miles.
"Your neck looks like sunshine!" the child said before bursting into giggles and chasing after the others.
Kerr blinked. "Well… that's a new one."
Lin giggled. "Better than being called a 'moody mushroom,' like back in camp."
"Hey, that was only once."
Ashen smiled faintly. The city was broken, but not silent. Even here, warmth existed in little pockets. In yellow scarves and children's laughter.
They were heading toward the mission outpost—an old building near the city center that had been restructured into a base for the Blood Kingdom's relief squads. Elira and Raynar had gone ahead to speak with the local command.
As they walked, Ashen noticed something strange.
Outside one of the broken houses sat a man. Not old, but weathered. His beard was frosted, and his coat was patched with bits of different fabric. He was carving something from a block of ice.
Curious, Ashen stepped closer. The man looked up, but didn't speak.
"Can I ask what you're making?" Ashen said quietly.
The man continued carving, a slow rhythm. His knife made soft scrapes in the ice.
"A bell," he replied eventually.
"A bell?"
"For when the spring comes," the man said. "So the snow knows it's time to leave."
Ashen didn't know how to respond to that. It wasn't poetic or sad—it was simply… human.
They left the man and turned onto the central street. The outpost was visible now—its structure reinforced with metal frames and tarps. Outside stood Sera, her breath fogging as she paced slowly, clearly waiting.
"There you are," she said. "Took your time."
"We were sightseeing," Kerr said, lifting both arms like a tour guide. "You should see the haunted tailor shop. Five stars."
Sera didn't laugh, but she didn't frown either.
"Elira and Raynar are inside. Locals aren't happy," she said. "They think we're only here to abandon them."
"Are we?" Lin asked.
Sera hesitated. "Some will stay behind, no matter what we say. Others can't be moved. Too old. Too sick. So yes. In a way."
They walked in.
The outpost's interior was warmer—barely—but it smelled of boiled herbs and rust. Inside, several townsfolk sat on wooden benches, murmuring among themselves. Raynar stood by the table, arms crossed as he listened to an older woman speak.
"…we don't have enough wagons. And we don't know where you're taking us. You think we'll survive the journey like this?"
"We're not forcing you to come," Raynar said. "But the cold is going to get worse. This whole region is collapsing—soil's frozen through. Nothing will grow next year."
Another man, gaunt and tall, stepped forward. "So let us die here. At least this place remembers us."
Ashen felt something tug at his chest.
Elira spoke next. "We're not here to uproot you without reason. Athen won't last another winter. We have a temporary shelter beyond the southern hills. It's not perfect, but it's warm. And it's alive."
Silence hung heavy. The kind where too much had been said already, and not enough.
Back outside, the sky began to dim.
Ashen leaned against a crumbling fence post, looking out across the city. Snow-covered roofs, crooked chimneys, narrow alleys.
Lin joined him. "They're not wrong, you know."
"What do you mean?"
"Leaving here… for them, it's like burying a piece of themselves." She reached down and picked up a piece of frost-covered cloth from the ground. "Even trash has memory when it belongs to someone."
He didn't reply. He thought of the boy again.
Kerr called out from ahead. "There's a tea stall! Or what's left of one. Guy's actually boiling something."
They gathered around the tiny shop—a shanty made of iron and wood, steam puffing from an open kettle. An old man sat behind it, smile warm despite his trembling fingers.
"You're the new ones," he said. "Come in, warm your blood."
The tea tasted strange—bitter, earthy. But it warmed the hands.
Sera stared into her cup. "What's your name, old man?"
He chuckled. "Names change too much around here. But people call me Kuto."
"Why are you still here?" Ashen asked.
Kuto's eyes twinkled. "This is my world. This tea. These streets. If I leave, who'll keep the fires burning for the ghosts?"
Ghosts again. But they weren't scary here. Just… part of things.
Raynar and Elira soon returned. Everyone gathered near the edge of the plaza, watching as the last few lights flickered to life in the nearby homes.
The wind grew sharper.
"We leave at dawn," Elira announced. "Those who want to come will meet us at the east gate. Those who don't… we leave supplies."
"Understood," Sera said.
Ashen sat beside a low stone wall, head tilted back toward the sky. The clouds had thinned just a little. The stars above looked faint, distant, like they too were hesitating.
Then, it came.
The first snowflake.
It landed on Ashen's sleeve—silent, soft, like a whisper. Then another. And another.
He didn't say a word.
But everyone looked up.
The sky was no longer grey. It was silver.
Lin smiled. "Looks like winter's saying goodbye."
Ashen watched the snow fall, slow and gentle.
It didn't feel like an ending.
Not yet.