In the bone-chilling frost of the Eastern Valley, John stood amidst the wreckage of his battle. He had defeated the Frost-Worm, but the victory was short-lived. The vibrations of the explosion had summoned a swarm of Snow-Snakes, their jagged scales clashing like knives.
"They're not here to eat," John whispered, his lungs burning. "They're here for revenge."
He slammed a Red Stone into his sled's engine. A jet of crimson sparks erupted, and he surged forward. The snakes were slower than him, but they were masters of the ambush. Suddenly, the ground ahead heaved. A Black Frost-Python—a rarity born once in ten thousand—burst from the snow. It had no weaknesses, only speed and lethal intent.
John saw a massive gorge ahead. "Success or death," he roared, funneling his remaining Red Stones into the furnace. The sled didn't just slide; it took flight. But the leap fell short. The sled slammed into the cliffside and plummeted into the abyss, exploding upon impact.
The snakes peered over the edge, seeing only fire and debris. They retreated, convinced the boy was dead.
But John was still there. He dangled from the cliff face, his fingers white-knuckled around his ice-blade, while his other hand gripped the bag of harvested scales. With agonizing effort, he used the serrated scales as climbing pitons, dragging his broken body back to the surface.
"I'm still breathing," he wheezed, his ribs screaming in pain. "As long as I breathe, I won't stop."
While John crawled through the snow, a different kind of cold permeated the village's grandest manor: the house of Leader Armand.
Stone, the one-armed Deputy, stood before the Leader's door. He knocked with a rare, quiet respect. The door was opened by Selena—the "Star of the North." Her silver hair and heavenly blue eyes radiated a warmth that seemed to vanish the moment Stone entered.
"Big brother, you're back!" she cried, hugging him. Stone's icy exterior softened only for her.
Inside the inner sanctum, Stone knelt before Leader Armand.
"Did you find it?" the Leader asked, his voice a withered rasp.
"I found Vlad's remains, Excellency," Stone replied, his voice heavy with failure. "But the lizards left nothing but splinters of bone. The necklace... it's gone."
Armand sighed, a sound of profound disappointment. "Our village's golden days are fading, Stone."
"I am unworthy to be your adopted son!" Stone barked, bowing low. "Punish my failure!"
Armand pulled back the curtain, revealing his true form: a frail, gaunt old man, his eyes clouded with a terrifying darkness. "Punishment won't bring back the necklace. I should never have trusted that old fool Vlad with our tribe's greatest treasure."
He opened his eyes fully—they were pits of absolute blackness filled with tiny, swirling white dots like distant galaxies. This was the Eye of the North Star, the power of prophecy.
"Don't worry, Stone," Armand whispered. "I have seen it. The necklace will return to my hand. How or when, the visions do not yet say."
As Stone exited, Selena entered. Her warm smile vanished, replaced by a gaze as sharp as a razor.
"How is that woman?" Armand asked.
"Nora is stable," Selena replied coldly. "And the boy, John, is still tending to her."
"Did you give him the food, my daughter?"
"Yes, father. I packed it with the poison as you commanded." Her voice was now devoid of any soul. "But he didn't eat it. He's not a fool. He's the son of your rival, after all."
Armand smiled grimly. "As expected. He won't be easy to kill."
Miles away, John was losing his battle with the night. His legs had frozen into pillars of wood. He collapsed into the snow, the darkness encroaching on his vision.
In his delirium, a phantom of Captain Vlad appeared, his mangled face grinning. "Come, John... join me in the depths."
"Not yet," John hissed. He slammed his knife into the permafrost and began to crawl. He dragged his paralyzed lower body through the drifts, inch by agonizing inch. He wasn't just a boy anymore; he was a force of nature.
He reached his door and collapsed inside. His mother screamed, rushing from her bed to drag him toward the hearth. She melted the Ice-Scales, pouring the elixir down his throat as she wept.
"I'm sorry, my son... I'm so sorry."
John reached up, his frostbitten hand wiping a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry I was late," he whispered.
As they both drifted into an exhausted sleep, the necklace in John's pocket began to pulse with a faint, rhythmic heartbeat of its own.
To be continued...