Chapter 32 (Part 1) — Shattered Ice and the Veil of Lost Magic
The tension in the air thickened as Vivian's sister—the cold-eyed sorceress who had once hunted them in Halfmoon City—lay unconscious by the fire. Her pale face, usually sharp with arrogance, now twitched with fear even in slumber. Bennett watched her warily, his jaw clenched. This was the woman who had nearly torn them apart for the fearling, who had threatened to grind his soul into ash. Yet here she was, vulnerable, her frost-white armor dulled by seawater and dirt.
"H-How did you… find her?" Vivian whispered, clutching a gourd of water. Her voice trembled, torn between familial concern and dread.
Bennett shrugged, recounting the iceberg and the eerie frost. Vivian knelt beside her sister, her hands fluttering uselessly. When attempts to coax water past the woman's clenched teeth failed, Bennett snatched a stick and pried her jaw open. Water splashed into her throat—a harsh mercy.
"Y-You'll choke her!" Vivian protested, tugging his arm.
"Should I care?" Bennett snapped, though guilt flickered beneath his glare. "She'll kill us if she wakes at full strength. Or have you forgotten?"
The woman convulsed, coughing violently. Her eyes flew open—icy blue, blazing with confusion. "You," she rasped, scrambling backward. "Where—what—" Her gaze darted to Vivian, then to the fearling's cage. Memory flooded back.
"My dragon!" she shrieked, clawing at her hair. "Ocatus! He's gone—torn apart—eaten—" Sobs wracked her body as she collapsed, fists pounding the earth. "That monster… It swallowed him whole to save me… Swallowed him!"
Bennett's blood ran cold. A creature that devours dragons? The island's unnatural silence suddenly felt suffocating.
Vivian hovered awkwardly, tears in her eyes. "S-Sister… Lucille, I—"
"Don't!" Lucille snarled, lurching to her feet. "This is your fault! If you'd handed over the fearling, I'd never have chased you here! Ocatus would still be alive!"
Bennett stepped between them, his voice steel. "Enough. Blame us later. What happened? What attacked you?"
Lucille's rage faltered. For a moment, raw terror flickered across her face. "We… circled the island. Ocatus refused to land—he panicked, like the very air revolted him. I forced him down… and then… it rose from the sea." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "A leviathan… all teeth and shadow. It… bit through his throat…"
She dissolved into fresh tears, but Bennett pressed on. "Where is it now? Did it follow you?"
"I don't know!" Lucille whirled on him, magic flaring instinctively—or trying to. Her hands glowed faintly, then sputtered. A pathetic shard of ice shot from her fingertips, grazing Bennett's shoulder.
He stared, then barked a laugh. "Your magic's broken too? Welcome to the club, Princess."
Lucille paled. "What… What have you done to me?!"
"Nothing," Vivian murmured, stepping forward. "I-It's this place. My magic… it's g-gone too."
Bennett's smirk faded as realization struck. "The island—it's suppressing magic. All magic." He gestured to the fearling, cowering silently in its cage. "That thing hasn't screeched in hours. Whatever's here… it's not just hunting dragons. It's changing things."
Lucille staggered, her defiance crumbling. "But… how? No spell could—"
"Not a spell," Bennett interrupted. "Something older. Wilder." He paced, mind racing. The quakes, the frost, the beast in the depths—all threads of a tapestry he couldn't yet see.
Vivian reached for her sister's hand. "W-We'll help you, Lucille. T-Together—"
"Don't touch me!" Lucille recoiled, but her venom lacked bite. Exhaustion hollowed her eyes. "You… you've doomed us all. That creature… it's coming. I felt it… hungering…"
A chill swept through the camp. Bennett opened his mouth—then froze.
Lucille's gaze had snapped to the trees. Her breath hitched. "It's here."
Chapter 32 (Part 2) — Fists of Frost and the Shadow Beneath the Waves
Bennett hit the ground hard, the air punched from his lungs. Above him, the ice sorceress loomed, her fists clenched and eyes blazing—a warrior's fury undimmed by her vanished magic. "You dare think me helpless?" she hissed. "I am Lucille Frostveil, Sixth-Circle Swordmaster of the Northern Spires. Magic or not, I could carve your heart out with my bare hands."
Groaning, Bennett rolled onto his side. "Charming," he wheezed, flashing a pained grin. "Next time, I'll let the iceberg keep you."
Vivian flung herself between them, arms spread like a shield. "P-Please, sister! H-He saved you! He carried you here—"
"Saved me?" Lucille's laugh was sharp as broken glass. "To mock me? To strip me of my dignity?" Her gaze narrowed at Vivian's flushed cheeks. "Or is this whelp your pet now? Pathetic, little sister. Even exiled, you cling to the first fool who feeds you scraps."
"N-No! It's n-not like that!" Vivian stammered, her voice cracking. "H-He's… kind. He shared his food, found water, risked everything to bring you here! You owe him!"
For a heartbeat, the clearing hung silent. Then Lucille stepped back, her posture rigid. "…A life-debt, then. I spare him once. But if he mocks me again—"
"Oh, spare me the theatrics," Bennett cut in, staggering to his feet. "You're not the first bully I've met. Strongest? Sure. But bullies are all the same—swing first, think never." He dusted sand from his tunic, his voice hardening. "Cry over your dragon later. Right now, we need to survive whatever ate it. So sit. Talk. Or I'll toss you back to the sea myself—magic or no magic."
Lucille's fist twitched, but something in his tone gave her pause. "…You've nerve, boy. For a cripple."
"And you've the charm of a frostbitten troll. Now. The monster."
The Tale of Ocatus's End
Lucille's composure fractured as she spoke. "We… circled the island. Ocatus refused to descend. He shook—like prey scenting a predator. I forced him lower… and then… it rose." Her hands trembled. "A mountain of flesh and teeth. Eyes like poisoned moons. Its roar—I felt it inside my skull, shredding my focus. Ocatus unleashed his froststorm, but the creature… it absorbed the magic. Like it was feeding."
Bennett leaned forward, his earlier mockery forgotten. "Feeding? On spells?"
"Yes. And when we tried to flee—" Her voice broke. "The sky itself became a cage. Ocatus crashed into an invisible barrier, again and again. Then… the waves. A wall of water higher than any fortress. It dragged us down. I… I saw…" She choked. "Its jaws. They opened… wider than a castle gate. Ocatus—my dragon—it swallowed him whole. Whole."
The fire crackled, its warmth doing nothing to thaw the dread settling over them.
"How… big was this thing?" Bennett whispered.
Lucille met his gaze, her eyes hollow. "The head alone dwarfed Ocatus. The rest… I saw only shadows beneath the waves. But its magic—ancient. Wrong. Not elemental, not divine. Something… older."
Vivian shuddered, clutching her arms. "A-And it's… still here?"
"Yes." Lucille's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's watching. Waiting. This island… it's a trap. The barrier, the magic drain—all its doing. We're not survivors. We're prey."
Bennett's Gambit
Bennett stood abruptly, kicking sand over the fire. "Then we stop waiting to die. You—" He pointed at Lucille. "—swordsmaster or not, you're stuck here with us. So here's the deal: truce. No magic, no blades. We pool what we've got: my scavenging, your combat skills, and her—" He nodded at Vivian. "—bond with the fearling. Maybe that little demon senses things we can't."
Lucille arched a brow. "You'd trust me?"
"Trust? No. But I'll use you like you'd use me." Bennett held out a hand—not in peace, but as a challenge. "Live now, stab each other later. Deal?"
For a long moment, Lucille studied him. Then, with a scoff, she gripped his forearm—a warrior's clasp, not a diplomat's handshake. "When this ends, boy, I'll still break your nose."
"Looking forward to it."
Chapter 33 — Hunger's Edge and the Whisper of Embers
The weight of the ice sorceress's revelation hung heavy over the trio. Bennett paced the shoreline, the cold salt air doing little to clear the dread coiled in his gut. A monster that devoured dragons. A predator that turned magic into a death sentence. He kicked a shell into the surf, watching it vanish beneath the black waves.
When he returned to the clearing, the sisters' voices—one sharp as a blade, the other trembling like wind-chimes—cut through the dusk.
"—useless fearling!" Lucille (or Joanna, as Bennett would soon learn) snapped, her frost-pale braids flickering like serpents in the firelight. "You think Father's pet can sniff us out here? We're trapped, you simpering—"
Vivian hunched over, her fingers twisting the hem of her tattered robe. "I-I'm s-sorry, sister, I—"
"Enough," Bennett barked, tossing an armload of gnarled driftwood onto the fire. Sparks hissed skyward. "One of you's a human icicle, the other's a mouse. Congratulations—you've perfected sibling rivalry." He knelt, methodically stacking kindling. "Now shut up. We need to eat."
Joanna's glare could've frozen lava. "Eat? On this wretched rock?"
"Unless you'd prefer to gnaw your own arm off, yes." Bennett didn't look up.
Vivian timidly uncurled a fist, revealing a clutch of blackened roots. "H-Here, sister. I… saved these."
Joanna recoiled. "Weeds? You've let this gutter-born cripple feed you weeds?!"
Bennett's hands stilled. When he rose, his voice was colder than her magic had ever been. "Listen well, Lady Icicle. Your sister rationed her share to keep you alive. While you napped like a pampered hound, she scavenged. While you cursed the sky, she dug these 'weeds' with bleeding hands." He stepped closer, firelight carving shadows into his gaunt face. "So swallow your pride—or starve. Your choice."
The clearing held its breath.
Then—
Grrooowl.
Joanna's stomach roared like a caged beast.
Bennett's smirk was merciless. "Ah. Seems your gut's wiser than your tongue."
"You—!" Joanna lunged, then froze mid-step. Shame, hot and unfamiliar, flooded her cheeks. Why? Why does this whelp's scorn sting worse than a blade?
Vivian thrust the roots forward. "P-Please, sister…"
With a growl that mirrored her stomach's, Joanna snatched the roots and bit down. The taste—earthy, bitter, wrong—made her gag. I am Joanna Frostveil, scion of the Northern Spires. I've feasted on roasted pegasus in the Crystal Halls. And now… this. She chewed faster, refusing to meet Bennett's gaze.
When the last root vanished, Bennett tossed her a waterskin. "Rinse your mouth. We've little enough as is."
Joanna hesitated, then spat a glob of mud. "…Thank you." The words tasted fouler than the roots.
Night's Truce
By dawn, hunger had carved hollows beneath all their eyes. Bennett stirred the ashes of the dead fire, his voice flat. "We need rules. First: rations are equal. No exceptions." His gaze pinned Joanna. "Second: work. You hunt. Vivian tends the fire. I'll scout the eastern caves."
Joanna bristled. "You order me, boy?"
"No. I survive. You're welcome to die decorously." He slung a makeshift sack over his shoulder. "Your swordarm's our best weapon. Use it."
For a heartbeat, fury blazed in Joanna's eyes. Then, with a curt nod, she unsheathed her dagger. "Fine. But if I find game, I eat the first cut."
"Deal."
As Bennett vanished into the mist, Vivian whispered, "H-He's… k-kind, sister. In his way."
Joanna stared at the dagger. "A thistle is 'kind' compared to a dagger. Doesn't mean I'll hug it." Yet her voice lacked its usual venom.
The Hunt
Bennett's "scouting" yielded little—a handful of sour berries, a clump of seaweed. He'd just begun scaling a cliffside when a cry echoed from the woods.
Joanna.
He found her kneeling by a stream, her dagger buried in the carcass of a creature resembling a six-legged boar. Its fur was matted with glowing algae, tusks curled like poisoned sickles.
"Dinner," she panted, sweat streaking her face. "It nearly gutted me. Fast. Smart. Not natural."
Bennett eyed the beast's pulsating veins. "Neither are we, at this point." He knelt, drawing his own knife. "Let's cook it before it resurrects."
Names in the Dark
That night, the fire crackled with actual meat. Grease dripped into the flames, hissing.
Joanna devoured her portion like a wolf, then froze mid-bite. "…You're staring, boy."
Bennett leaned back, studying her. "Just wondering what to call you. 'Ice Bitch' grows tedious."
Vivian choked on her meat.
Joanna's dagger thudded into the log between Bennett's legs. "Joanna Frostveil. Sixth-Circle Swordmaster. Heir to the Frostveil Magistracy." She yanked the blade free. "And you?"
"Bennett of House Rollins. Professional pessimist." He grinned, all teeth. "Pleased to perish with you, Joanna."
"Lady Frostveil," she corrected, but the edge had dulled.
As Vivian drowsed against a rock, Bennett murmured, "Jojo's better."
"Try it," Joanna hissed, "and I'll stitch your lips with frost."
But when Vivian sleepily mumbled, "G'night, Jojo…" the swordmaster merely scowled at the stars.
The Plan
At dawn, Bennett outlined his madness. "The monster feeds on magic. So we starve it." He jabbed a stick into the sand, sketching crude runes. "Joanna, you'll bait it. Vivian's fearling—if it truly bonds with her—might disrupt its senses. And I…" He grinned. "I'll give it a bellyache it'll regret."
Joanna stared. "You've no magic. No strength. What can you do?"
Bennett tapped his temple. "What I've always done: cheat."
As the sun rose, three unlikely allies prepared to gamble their lives on a cripple's cunning, a swordmaster's steel, and a mouse's bond with a creature of shadow.