WINTERTHORN
After hours of trekking through the frozen forest of blight, we stood before a great castle, no, a gargantuan fortress. Tall steeples of ice reached up to the sky, melding into the side of the craggy mountain with a grace and strength that used to spell safety for those who resided inside. Now it seemed like the great bars of a prison, and perhaps within—prowling for six hundred years—the great beast of the mountain; Elden’s grandfather, the first King of the Elves.
Our task was impossible. I expected the castle to be large, maybe even as ridiculously gigantic as Elkhaven, but no. Quite impossibly, the palace of Winterthorn was at least double the size of Elden’s palace.
“How could we ever inspect every room? Turn out all the books in order to find what we need?” Dread pooled in my gut. And if, indeed, a great shade monster roamed the halls, how much longer would Jel’s potion keep us hidden from its prowling eyes?
Elden huffed out a strained breath, his face pale. “We studied the map of Winterthorn palace back in the library. There isan ancient room carved out of the heart of the mountain just beyond the throne room. It was special to the king and queen. If there is anything of import, that will be the first room to search.”
I nodded as I inspected the wince of a smile Elden pasted on his beautiful lips. He was in pain, though he tried to hide it. Our time was short.
“We must hurry.” I steeled my heart and took hold of Elden’s gloved hand.
He squeezed my hand back in return. “We’ll go through the western entrance there.”
Elden pointed to a tall door set into the mountain to the left of the castle. It looked to be more of an entrance for servants and deliveries. I nodded. The entire palace grew out of the great mountain as if the castle sprouted on its own. I was grateful to be spared the miles-long trek down to the main entrance below.
Together, we pushed our way through the blackened forest toward the side of the castle. Our feet crunched into the ice that seemed to grow larger and craggier with every passing step, but thanks to Jel’s potion, we did not make a sound as we stomped toward the light blue doors. They looked to be made of ice, too, but on closer inspection, the entire castle had been hewn from a brilliant light blue rock. Rivers of amber and white weaved through the stone. Brass inlays of curving runes and designs decorated the rock, twisting and whirling in otherworldly beauty.
“The entire palace is made of moonstone,” Elden said as he caught me admiring the intricate carvings, many with the symbol of Winterthorn, a unique pine tree. “Father said that the palace looked like one giant ice palace. I could never have dreamed it would be so beautiful.”
Glimmering spires stretched up to the cloud filled sky. A shimmering palace of moonstone among the black barren wastes of the blight.
“It is breathtaking,” I said through a chill.
All was dead and still as if the palace itself were holding its last breaths.
Elden’s grandfather lived here, died here, along with his human wife. I couldn’t help but think about her—her life, her death. Who had she been, and how had she won the heart of the Elf King? Not that I was interested in that knowledge for myself or anything. I shook my head and trudged along.
A large shade monster wreathed in shadow lurked among the shadows here in this land. We were treading on its very domain. The place where the first blight spread. It was evident in the decaying ground and the twisted black branches of the once majestic trees. The palace itself shot out from the blackness like a gleaming pillar of light, untouched by the blight—yet the blackness seemed to spread outward from this very palace. It was the epicenter.
It was the last place I’d ever wish to set my feet, yet the only one in which we could find the answers we sought.
We’d need to be fast and thorough, but I would not leave Elden’s side. He might need to do that shape-shifty thing and take out a monster, and my magic didn’t work that way. The only kind of defensive fight I could put up was whacking somebody with my small saucepan.
I gripped Elden’s hand tighter, and we trudged to the doors. They alone were a full three stories high and covered in carvings of trees and mountains, but by far the smallest of the entrances. Icicles clung to the eaves like daggers, each one catching on the mornings light. The doors had been left ajar for six hundred years, as if beckoning its prey to come a little closer so that it could devour them. Elden and I shared a tense glance. He clenched his jaw with determination, and I just followed, my heart pounding in my chest like a jackrabbit’s. Arctic wind whipped at my hair and cheeks, sending my hood back.
We stepped through the blue stone doors and entered a dark hallway that stretched on into an inky abyss. A frigid breeze wound through the corridor, causing my jacket to fly up, allowing a bit of the cold air to bite into my side. I brushed down my coat as a chill rolled through me. I wouldn’t survive more than a couple minutes out here without my enchanted coat, yet the castle was already starting to warm. Elden said the castle was enchanted to stay warm all year long.
Did that magic still hold true after six hundred years of abandonment?
Within the next few steps, warmth hit my face like an open oven.
Apparently, yes.
Elden pulled out his glowing gold citrine gemstone to chase away the shadows of Winterthorn. Its eerie light illuminated his tense lips and straining eyes. “Stay close to me, Little Baker.”
I pressed into him. He didn’t have to tell me twice.
“But the light. Won’t the monster see it?” It was as good as a lure to the great beast.
“It is as dark as pitch in here,” Elden replied. “We will have to risk it.”
“Doesn’t Jel have some special poultice or something to disguise it?” I pressed.
A slight smile lifted Elden’s lips, “Even elvish magic has its limits. There cannot be light if it is obscured from view.”
Right.
