Humans fear the unknown.
When they don't understand what happened—or can't explain the logic behind it—they tremble.
Now, the entire outpost was gripped by fear, not just of the cold or hunger…
But because of one death.
Before, they feared dying slowly—from frostbite, starvation, isolation.
Now, they feared something worse:
Something unseen. Something unnatural.
And worst of all—something that chose Thalen.
Zareena stood before the gathered soldiers in the frostbitten courtyard. They looked at her—not with the usual indifference or distant respect, but with quiet desperation.
Their breaths fogged in the air. Eyes were hollow. Boots stamped not just from cold, but from nerves.
She spoke without raising her voice.
"I won't lie to you. Something is out there.
We don't know what it is, yet. But we do know this—it wants us afraid.
So we won't give it that."
She held up a torch. The flame flickered weakly in the wind.
"We adapt. We watch. And if it returns, we'll burn it to ash."
Silence. Then, a few nods.
Then more.
Not confidence—but steadiness.
And in a place like this, that was the first kind of strength.
They know they can't fight with it alone. They need everyone's strength to fight with it.
But the signs had already begun.
That night, all the mirrors in the fort frosted over, no matter the fire nearby. One cracked clean down the middle—no sound, no pressure. Just a jagged line like a wound.
The dogs stopped barking.
They wouldn't go near the gate. One began whining in its sleep, and never stopped.
Shadows stretched in the wrong direction.
Torches flickered without wind. Footsteps echoed where no one walked.
And in the northern tower, a soldier swore he saw a figure crawling across the ceiling, upside down.
They laughed him off.
Until he disappeared two nights later—leaving only his boots by the window.
Zareena didn't sleep that night.
Not because she was afraid.
But because the letter had said:
"Do not sleep near mirrors."
And now, her mirror wouldn't stop fogging,
even though her room was warm.