The cold had a way of seeping into everything, not just the body, but the mind too. Kaden felt it now more than ever as he stood outside the workshop, staring into the swirling snow. The weight of his power had been growing, the cold inside him more potent with each day. The fight days earlier had shaken him, not because of the enemy, but because of how easily he'd almost lost control. The black frost had surged, more eager than ever to break free.
Behind him, Geralt approached, silent as always. Kaden felt his presence before he heard him.
"You've been out here too long," Geralt said, his voice steady.
Kaden didn't respond right away, watching as the wind whipped the snow across the landscape. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
"About everything. The boat, the people coming after us... the cold inside me."
Geralt stepped closer, his sharp eyes catching Kaden's. "We've all noticed. You're struggling."
Kaden flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar tingle of black frost just beneath the surface. "I can handle it."
"Can you?" Geralt's tone was calm but edged with concern. "Back there, in that last fight... you nearly froze one of us."
Kaden's jaw tightened. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," Geralt said, lowering his voice. "But it happened. And if you're not careful, it'll happen again. You're getting stronger, Kaden, but that strength is starting to turn against you."
Kaden turned away, his hands clenched. Geralt was right, but admitting it felt like admitting defeat. The cold inside him, the power, it was growing beyond his control. Each time he tapped into it, it seemed to push back harder, pulling him in deeper.
"I just need time to figure it out," Kaden muttered, though the words felt empty.
Geralt didn't press further. He stood there for a moment, letting the silence stretch between them. Finally, he said, "We don't have much time left, Kaden. The next attack is coming, and we need you sharp. Not distracted."
Kaden nodded, though a part of him wondered if he could ever truly be ready. The power inside him was restless, constantly pulling at the edges of his control. He could feel it now, even as he stood there, watching the snow fall—coiling like a serpent in the pit of his stomach.
Inside the workshop, the fire crackled, filling the small space with warmth. Boros worked at the boat, his hands moving methodically as he hammered another plank into place. The boat wasn't much, but it was enough to get them out of here. They just needed to hold out a little longer.
Kaden sat near the fire, the warmth doing little to ease the cold that clung to him. He stared into the flames, his thoughts circling back to the fight. The black frost had come so easily, almost too easily. He could still see the fear in the eyes of the men he'd frozen. He could have killed them without a second thought. The thought made him uneasy.
Geralt stood nearby, his back against the wall, sharpening his sword with slow, deliberate strokes. His eyes flicked toward Boros, who inspected the boat's hull.
"How much longer?" Geralt asked, his tone edged with impatience.
Boros didn't look up. "Another day, maybe two. I'll have it done."
Geralt exchanged a look with Kaden. "We don't have that long. We were lucky the last time. If another group shows up, we might not be so fortunate."
Kaden nodded. He could feel the tension in the air, and the unspoken reality that lingered between them—more were coming. He didn't need Geralt to tell him that.
"We'll defend the workshop for as long as we can," Kaden said, his voice steady. "But as soon as that boat's ready, we leave."
Boros grunted in agreement, continuing his work. "I'll be finished before the storm gets worse. Just make sure you survive long enough to use it."
That night, the wind outside picked up, howling through the cracks in the walls of the workshop. Kaden stood at the entrance, staring out into the dark, his senses alert. He could feel the tension building in the air, a heaviness that pressed down on him. It wasn't just the cold—something else was coming.
Geralt joined him, his sword drawn but resting at his side. "They're coming, aren't they?"
Kaden didn't answer right away. He narrowed his eyes, scanning the horizon, searching for any movement. The cold gnawed at him, stirring the power inside, but he forced it down.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "They're out there."
They didn't have to wait long. Shadows appeared in the distance, moving through the storm with a steady purpose. This time, it wasn't just scavengers. Kaden could see their weapons gleaming in the faint light—these were bounty hunters or mercenaries, far more dangerous than the ones who came before.
Kaden's heart raced, the black frost already tingling at his fingertips. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the power, but it was there, waiting.
"Hold the line," Kaden ordered, his voice tight. "We can't let them get inside."
Geralt nodded, stepping forward to meet the attackers. Kaden followed, feeling the cold surge through him as they moved.
The first attacker lunged toward them, and Geralt cut him down with a single stroke. Kaden stayed close behind, his breath visible in the freezing air. The power inside him begged to be released, but he fought against it, trying to keep it contained.
Another attacker charged, and Kaden thrust his hand forward, sending a wave of frost across the ground. The man's legs froze instantly, the ice climbing up his body, encasing him. Kaden's heart pounded as he felt the cold pull at him, urging him to go further.
"Don't lose control!" Geralt shouted, cutting down another foe.
Kaden gritted his teeth, forcing the frost back. It was like trying to stop a flood with his bare hands. The power surged, and for a moment, Kaden felt it slipping away from him.
The battle raged on, the attackers pressing closer. Geralt fought like a man possessed, his blade cutting through their ranks with lethal precision. Kaden did his best to hold his ground, using the frost to slow their enemies, but each use of his power brought him closer to the edge.
By the time the last attacker fell, Kaden was shaking. His hands were numb, not from the cold outside, but from the cold inside. The black frost still lingered at his fingertips, refusing to recede.
Geralt wiped the blood from his sword, his eyes locking on Kaden. "You alright?"
Kaden nodded, though he wasn't sure he believed it. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Geralt didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. "The boat will be ready by morning. We leave at first light."
Kaden turned away, staring into the distance. The storm was rolling in again, darker and more furious than before. They were running out of time. But more than that, Kaden was running out of control. He could feel it slipping through his fingers, like sand.
As they retreated back into the workshop, Kaden's mind raced. He couldn't let this happen again. He had to find a way to stop the cold from consuming him. But deep down, he feared that the next time he unleashed the frost, he wouldn't be able to stop it.
The night was long and restless. Kaden lay awake by the fire, staring at the flickering flames. The storm outside raged, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside him. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the frost creeping up his arms, hear the whispers in his mind.
When sleep finally claimed him, his dreams were filled with ice. The black frost consumed everything, turning the world around him to frozen wasteland. He could feel its pull, stronger than before, and in the distance, a dark figure stood, watching him with cold, unblinking eyes.
"You can't control it," the figure whispered, its voice like the wind. "You never will."
Kaden woke with a start, his heart pounding, his skin slick with sweat despite the cold. The dream clung to him, its dark presence lingering even as he sat up, staring at the dying embers of the fire.
By dawn, the storm had subsided, but the cold remained, sharp and biting. The boat was finished, its wooden frame sturdy enough to carry them away from this frozen land. Boros stood beside it, his arms crossed, watching as they prepared to leave.
"It'll hold," he said. "But you'd better leave soon. Another storm's coming."
Geralt nodded, his face set with determination. "We'll be gone before it hits."
As they pushed the boat into the water, Kaden couldn't shake the feeling that something was still waiting for them as they readied the boat for departure. The storm clouds above gathered again, dark and heavy, but it wasn't just the weather that weighed on Kaden's mind. Something about the land behind them felt alive—restless, as if it knew they were leaving and didn't want to let them go.
Kaden took his place at the helm, his body still recovering from the battle the night before. Every muscle ached, but it was the cold inside him that gnawed the hardest. He could feel it now more than ever, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for its chance to break free. He'd pushed it back for now, but the next time it might not be so easy.
Geralt climbed aboard, his eyes scanning the horizon. "We should move quickly. The storm's coming fast, and we've overstayed our welcome."
Kaden gave a short nod. "Let's get out of here."
Boros watched from the shore, his gruff expression betraying a hint of relief. "Good luck," he said, his voice low. "And try not to freeze to death before you get where you're going."
Geralt gave a slight smirk, but Kaden's face remained serious as they pushed away from the shore. The small boat creaked as it cut through the frigid water, the wind pushing against them as if the land itself were trying to pull them back.
Kaden gripped the wheel tightly, his thoughts swirling as fast as the snow around them. Every inch they moved away from the shore felt like a battle against the forces pulling him back—not just the storm, but the power within him. He could feel it whispering to him, tempting him to use it, to push further. But Kaden knew better than to listen. He had barely held it back in the fight, and the fear of losing control still hung over him like a shadow.
The waters churned, rough and cold, the boat groaning under the weight of the storm that chased them. The wind howled in their ears, biting at their faces, but Kaden kept his focus ahead, watching the endless sea of white stretch out before them.
"You think we've seen the last of them?" Kaden asked, his voice raised over the wind.
Geralt, standing near the front of the boat, shook his head. "Not a chance. Whoever sent those men, they know what you have. They'll be back. It's just a matter of time."
Kaden's grip tightened. He didn't need Geralt to tell him that. The cold power inside him had drawn attention, and it would continue to do so. But the larger question lingered—what exactly did they want from him? And why? The artifact had amplified something within him, but Kaden still didn't understand the full scope of what he carried.
The boat rocked beneath them, and for a moment, Kaden's concentration slipped. He could feel the frost stir inside him, the icy tendrils curling around his thoughts. He clenched his jaw, fighting to push it back.
Geralt glanced at him, his eyes sharp. "You alright?"
"Yeah," Kaden said, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. "Just trying to keep it together."
"You'll need to keep a tight grip," Geralt said, his tone low but firm. "Once we're out of this storm, there's no telling what's waiting for us. But you can't lose control again. Not out here."
Kaden's chest tightened. He knew Geralt was right, but it was easier said than done. Every time he called on the cold, it felt like a piece of himself slipped away, lost in the storm that swirled inside him.
The hours passed slowly, the storm around them growing stronger as the sea tossed their small boat like a toy. Kaden focused on the wheel, on keeping the boat steady, but his mind was far from the task at hand. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them—something beyond the storm, something waiting for its moment to strike.
As they sailed deeper into the unknown, Kaden's thoughts drifted back to the dream. The dark figure, the ice creeping up his body, the voice whispering that he would never control it. He had woken up in a cold sweat, but the fear hadn't left him.
And now, with the storm raging around them, the words seemed to echo in his mind.
You can't control it. You never will.
Kaden shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to dwell on the dream, not now. He needed to stay focused, to keep moving forward. The storm wouldn't last forever, and neither would the fight to keep the cold inside him at bay.
Geralt moved to his side, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Looks like the storm's starting to break," he said, his voice barely audible over the wind.
Kaden nodded, though he didn't feel the same sense of relief. The storm might have been easing, but the real challenges were just beginning. They had escaped, but for how long? And what was waiting for them beyond the storm?
As the skies began to clear, Kaden felt the weight of the cold settle deeper in his bones. They were leaving the land behind, but the power he carried with him wasn't going anywhere. It was a part of him now, whether he wanted it or not.
And deep down, Kaden knew that the further they went, the more dangerous it would become.