The storm had settled behind them, but the cold remained, a constant presence that lingered in Kaden's bones. The boat creaked beneath him as it cut through the icy water, the rough waves jostling them as they sailed further away from the shore. Kaden gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes fixed on the horizon, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
He could feel it again—the power inside him, coiled and waiting, like a predator lurking just beneath the surface. The battle back at the workshop had been close, too close. He'd nearly lost control, nearly let the cold overwhelm him. Even now, with the storm easing, the black frost still tingled at the edge of his consciousness, begging to be released.
Geralt stood at the front of the boat, his sharp eyes scanning the waters ahead. The tension between them was unspoken but palpable. Geralt had seen what happened during the fight, had seen how close Kaden had come to losing control.
"We're not out of the woods yet," Geralt muttered, his voice low. "Whatever was after us back there... they're not going to give up that easily."
Kaden nodded, though his mind was far from the threat of more attackers. He was more worried about himself—about the power inside him that he still didn't fully understand. The cold wasn't just growing stronger; it was becoming harder to push back. Each time he used it, he felt it slipping further out of his control.
And what scared him most was that part of him wanted to let it go.
He tightened his grip on the wheel, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. The sea stretched out before them, an endless expanse of gray, the wind tugging at the sails as the boat moved steadily forward. But the quiet didn't ease Kaden's mind. If anything, it made him more uneasy.
"You think they'll follow us?" Kaden asked, his voice breaking the silence.
Geralt glanced back at him, his expression unreadable. "It's possible. If they know what you're carrying, they'll come after it."
Kaden felt a chill run through him that had nothing to do with the cold. He still didn't understand the full extent of what the artifact had done to him, but he knew it had changed him. Amplified something that was already inside him. And now, because of it, he was a target.
"We can't worry about them right now," Geralt continued. "We've got bigger problems."
Kaden frowned, his brow furrowing. "Like what?"
Geralt nodded toward the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. "That storm. It's not done with us yet."
Kaden followed his gaze, feeling a pit form in his stomach. The storm they'd just escaped from wasn't going to let them go so easily. It was coming back, stronger this time, and they were still too close to the Farlands for comfort.
"We need to find shelter," Kaden said, his voice tight. "A place to wait it out."
"Problem is, we don't know these waters," Geralt replied, his tone grim. "We could sail right into another trap if we're not careful."
Kaden's chest tightened. The sea around them was vast and unfamiliar, and with the storm closing in, they had little time to navigate safely. But staying in open water wasn't an option. Not with the storm—and whatever else might be lurking out there—bearing down on them.
The hours passed slowly as the boat moved through the rough waters. The wind picked up, howling through the sails, and the waves grew taller, slamming against the sides of the boat with increasing force. Kaden kept his hands steady on the wheel, but his mind was racing.
Geralt stayed near the bow, keeping a watchful eye on the horizon. Every now and then, he'd glance back at Kaden, but neither of them spoke much. There wasn't much to say.
The storm was coming, and they were sailing right into it.
As the sky darkened, Kaden felt the cold inside him stir again, stronger this time. It was as if the approaching storm was feeding it, amplifying the power he could barely control. His breath came in short bursts, visible in the chill air, and he clenched his fists, trying to push it down.
"You alright?" Geralt's voice cut through the wind.
Kaden nodded, though his grip on the wheel tightened. "Yeah. Just... tired."
Geralt didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. "We'll need to anchor soon. Storm's moving faster than I thought."
Kaden nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. But there was nothing—no land, no islands, just endless sea and the dark clouds rolling toward them like an unstoppable wave.
A sharp crack split the air as one of the sails snapped in the wind. The boat lurched, tilting dangerously as the waves grew higher, crashing against the hull. Kaden fought to steady the wheel, his heart pounding in his chest.
"We're running out of time," Geralt shouted over the wind.
Kaden gritted his teeth, his mind racing. They needed to find shelter—somewhere to anchor before the storm hit them full force. But there was nothing in sight, just the vast, open sea and the gathering storm.
The cold surged inside him, stronger now, more insistent. It clawed at his senses, begging to be released, but Kaden fought it back. Not now. Not yet.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a dark shape on the horizon, barely visible through the swirling mist.
"Over there!" Kaden shouted, pointing toward the shape.
Geralt followed his gaze, squinting into the distance. "Could be an island."
"Could be our only chance," Kaden replied, already turning the wheel in the direction of the shape.
The boat groaned as it shifted course, the wind fighting against them, but Kaden held firm, steering them toward what he hoped was solid ground. The waves battered them from all sides, and the storm was closing in fast, but the dark shape grew clearer with each passing moment.
It was an island, small and rocky, but it was land. And right now, that was all they needed.
"Get ready to drop anchor!" Kaden shouted as they neared the island.
Geralt moved quickly, untying the ropes and preparing the anchor. The boat rocked violently as they approached the shore, the waves slamming against the rocks with brutal force.
"Now!" Kaden yelled.
Geralt dropped the anchor, and the boat lurched as it caught in the water. The wind howled, and the waves crashed against them, but the boat held steady, anchored just off the rocky shore.
Kaden released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. They'd made it. Barely.
The storm hit them hard, the wind howling like a living thing as it tore through the sails and whipped the sea into a frenzy. Kaden and Geralt huddled near the center of the boat, doing their best to secure everything they could as the storm battered them from all sides.
But despite the chaos around them, Kaden's mind was elsewhere.
The cold inside him had grown stronger, more insistent, as if it was feeding off the storm. He could feel it clawing at him, begging to be released, and it took every ounce of his willpower to keep it in check.
"You need to rest," Geralt said, his voice barely audible over the wind.
"I can't," Kaden muttered, his teeth clenched. "I need to stay in control."
Geralt's gaze lingered on him, concern flickering in his eyes. "You won't be any good to us if you burn yourself out."
Kaden nodded, though the cold gnawed at him, relentless. He knew Geralt was right, but it didn't make the struggle any easier.
As the storm raged on, Kaden leaned back against the side of the boat, his body exhausted from the constant fight against both the sea and the cold within him. His eyes drifted closed, and for the first time in days, he let himself slip into an uneasy sleep.
Kaden's dreams were filled with ice.
He stood alone on a vast, frozen plain, the wind biting at his skin as the black frost swirled around him. In the distance, a figure stood, cloaked in shadows, watching him with cold, unblinking eyes.
"You can't control it," the figure whispered, its voice barely audible over the wind. "You never will."
Kaden tried to move, but his legs were frozen in place, the ice creeping up his body, inch by inch. The black frost coiled around him, suffocating him, pulling him deeper into the cold.
"You are mine," the voice hissed.
Kaden woke with a start, his breath coming in short gasps, his heart pounding in his chest. The storm had lessened, but the wind still howled around them, and the boat rocked gently in the water.
Geralt was beside him, his eyes narrowed in concern. "Bad dream?"
Kaden nodded, though his mind was still clouded by the dark presence of the figure in his dream. The cold inside him hadn't lessened—it had only grown stronger.
"We're not safe yet," Kaden said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Geralt nodded, though his eyes remained sharp. "No, we're not," he said. "But we've bought ourselves some time. The storm's easing up. We need to be ready to move as soon as it clears."
Kaden rubbed his hands together, trying to shake the lingering sensation of the black frost curling around his skin. The dream had rattled him. The figure—the voice—it had felt real, like a warning. And the more he thought about it, the more he feared it wasn't just his imagination.
The cold wasn't just a part of him. It wanted control.
"I'll keep watch," Kaden said, standing up, though his legs felt weak beneath him.
Geralt eyed him but didn't argue. "I'll rest for a bit. Wake me if anything changes."
Kaden nodded, though he wasn't sure what he'd do if something did change. As Geralt settled down to rest, Kaden kept his eyes on the sea. The storm was finally breaking, the clouds parting to reveal patches of a pale, dawn-lit sky. But the sea still churned, and the wind still carried an icy bite that made him uneasy.
The island they'd anchored near was close enough to see now—a jagged outcrop of rocks and cliffs, with no sign of life or shelter. But at least it was land. Somewhere they could regroup, make plans, and figure out their next move. They couldn't stay in open water for much longer. The boat was small, and the constant battles with the storm had taken their toll. They needed to repair what they could and find a safer course to sail.
The hours passed slowly as Kaden sat in silence, listening to the rhythmic slap of the waves against the hull. His mind wandered, turning over the events of the last few days—escaping the Farlands, the attack, the growing power inside him. He didn't fully understand what the artifact had awakened, but it had changed something fundamental within him. It was no longer just a matter of controlling his powers; it was about keeping them from controlling him.
He stared down at his hands, watching the faint traces of black frost still lingering at his fingertips. It had come to him so easily during the last fight. Too easily. And with every use, it became harder to push back.
Kaden didn't know how much longer he could keep fighting it.
By the time Geralt woke, the storm had all but passed. The wind had died down, leaving only a cold breeze that carried the remnants of the storm out to sea. The sky was a dull gray, but the worst of the weather was behind them.
Geralt stretched, his joints creaking as he stood and looked out at the island. "Storm's broken," he said. "We should check the boat, make sure nothing's been damaged."
Kaden nodded, grateful for something to focus on. Together, they checked the ropes, the sails, and the hull, making small repairs where needed. The boat had held up better than expected, but they both knew it wouldn't last much longer. They needed to find a safe harbor soon, somewhere they could rest and figure out their next move.
Once they were finished, Kaden took the helm again, steering them toward the rocky shore. The water was calmer now, but the jagged rocks along the island's edge made navigation tricky. Kaden's hands were steady on the wheel, but his mind was racing.
The dream. The voice. It still lingered in his thoughts, gnawing at him. Was it just his own fears manifesting, or was something more at play? The artifact had changed him—he knew that much. But what exactly had it done? And how much of him was still under his control?
They drew closer to the shore, the rocks looming larger as the boat drifted through the calmer waters. Kaden squinted, scanning the cliffs for a place to land. There was no beach, no easy access to the island, just jagged rocks and steep, craggy cliffs.
"We'll have to climb," Geralt muttered, eyeing the rocky shore with distaste.
Kaden nodded, steering them closer until the boat bumped gently against the rocks. They tied the boat off as best they could, securing it to a sturdy outcrop before preparing to climb.
The climb was rough, the rocks slick with moisture from the storm, but they managed to make it to the top. As they stood on the edge of the island, Kaden looked out at the sea behind them. The vast expanse of water stretched endlessly, the storm now a distant memory, but his unease hadn't faded.
They were out of immediate danger, but something still lingered—a sense that they weren't alone, that something was waiting for them just beyond the horizon.
"Let's take a look around," Geralt said, breaking the silence. "There might be something useful here."
Kaden nodded, though his mind was still elsewhere. As they ventured further inland, the terrain grew rougher, the rocky cliffs giving way to a sparse, barren landscape. There was no sign of life, no vegetation, just cold rock and silence.
They walked in silence for what felt like hours, the weight of the past few days hanging heavily between them. Every now and then, Kaden would catch Geralt glancing at him, his expression unreadable. Kaden knew what Geralt was thinking—he didn't trust Kaden's control over his power. And frankly, Kaden wasn't sure if he trusted himself either.
As they crested a ridge, Geralt stopped abruptly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Kaden followed his gaze and froze.
Ahead of them, standing at the edge of a cliff, was a figure. Cloaked in dark, weathered robes, the figure stood motionless, staring out at the sea. Kaden's heart skipped a beat. The figure didn't move, didn't react to their presence, but there was something unsettling about the way it stood—still and silent, as if it had been waiting for them.
"Who's that?" Kaden asked, his voice low.
Geralt's grip tightened on his sword. "I don't know. But I don't like it."
They approached cautiously, their footsteps barely audible on the rocky ground. The closer they got, the more uneasy Kaden felt. There was something wrong, something off about the figure. It wasn't just a person standing there—it felt like a presence, like the dream.
As they neared the figure, Kaden could feel the cold inside him stir again, stronger this time. The black frost coiled at the edges of his mind, pressing against his control, and for a moment, he thought he could hear the voice again.
You can't control it. You never will.
Kaden shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't afford to lose focus now.
"Stay back," Geralt warned, his voice tense. "We don't know what we're dealing with."
But Kaden was already moving forward, something pulling him toward the figure. As he stepped closer, the figure slowly turned to face them, its hood obscuring its face, but Kaden could feel its gaze—cold, piercing, and filled with an unsettling familiarity.
"You've come far," the figure said, its voice low and hollow. "But you are not ready."
Kaden's heart raced. "Who are you?"
The figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, it raised a hand, and Kaden felt a wave of cold wash over him, the black frost inside him surging in response.
"You seek control," the figure said, its voice cutting through the wind. "But you are bound by forces you do not understand."
Kaden clenched his fists, the frost curling around his fingers. "What do you know about me?"
The figure lowered its hand, its gaze fixed on Kaden. "I know what you carry. And I know it will destroy you."
Kaden took a step back, his mind racing. The figure's words echoed the fears that had been gnawing at him since the moment he'd touched the artifact. The power inside him—it was growing, and he didn't know how to stop it.
Geralt stepped forward, his sword drawn. "Enough. If you know something, tell us."
The figure remained silent for a long moment, then turned its gaze to the horizon. "You will find your answers in time. But not here."
With that, the figure stepped back, disappearing into the mist that clung to the cliffs. Kaden stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest, the black frost still swirling around him.
Geralt sheathed his sword, his expression hard. "What the hell was that?"
Kaden shook his head, his mind still reeling. "I don't know. But whatever it was... it knew something. About me. About the cold."
Geralt frowned, glancing at the spot where the figure had vanished. "We need to get off this island. There's something wrong here."
Kaden nodded, though his mind was still racing with questions.