I tried to stand but my legs buckled, sending me back to my knees. The burns on my palms throbbed in time with my heartbeat—one hand scorched red, the other mottled blue-white from frostbite. My breath came in ragged gasps, each one visible in the freezing air.
"Just... give me a minute," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.
Laina crouched beside me, her violet eyes scanning the treeline. "We might not have a minute. Those things rarely travel alone."
"Three is already unusual," Joran replied, moving methodically around our camp's perimeter. "Reflectors typically hunt in pairs."
I watched him through narrowed eyes. "How do you know so much about them? About the daggers?"
Joran paused, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. After a moment, he continued his circuit without answering.
"Hey," I called, louder this time. "I asked you a question."
"This isn't the time," he said flatly.
"No?" I forced myself upright, ignoring the protest from every muscle in my body. "When would be better? After I nearly kill myself using weapons you apparently know all about?"
Laina stepped between us, her broad shoulders blocking my path to Joran. "We need to move camp. Those reflectors might have friends."
"Not until I get some answers." I stepped around her, my eyes never leaving Joran. "Those things nearly turned us into ice sculptures, and my daggers almost burned me from the inside out. Meanwhile, you're over there with your magical reflector repellent and artifact expertise."
Joran sighed, turning to face me fully. The moonlight caught the thin scar across his nose, making it stand out silver against his skin. "My uncle was a Knight of the Eternal Flame."
I waited for more, but he just stared at me expressionlessly.
"That's it? That's your explanation?"
"What do you want from me?" His voice remained level, but his fingers twitched toward his knife—a small tell. "We're all stuck in this frozen hell together. I use what I know to stay alive."
"And how exactly did you come by this knowledge?" I stepped closer, close enough to see the flecks of green in his gray eyes. "The Knights guarded their secrets. Even Torsten doesn't know half the things you seem to."
Something shifted in Joran's expression—a barely perceptible softening around the eyes.
"I got him drunk," he said simply.
"What?"
"My dad. I got him drunk." Joran's gaze drifted past me to the fire. "After the first failed expedition to the Temple, he came back... different. Started drinking. One night he couldn't stop talking about what they'd found there. The artifacts. The reflectors. Everything."
"And you remembered all of it?"
"I wrote it down." His hand moved to an inner pocket of his coat, patting it once. "Every word."
Laina snorted, breaking the tension. "You got your dad drunk to steal Knight secrets? That's... resourceful."
Joran's mouth twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. "He wanted someone to know. In case he didn't make it back from the next expedition." His expression darkened. "He didn't."
I flexed my hands, wincing at the pain. The burns were already starting to blister on my left palm. "And the daggers? What did he say about them?"
"Nothing specific about your daggers. Just artifacts in general." Joran turned away, resuming his perimeter check. "They all have costs. They all have wills. The older, the stronger."
Laina moved closer to me, eyeing my empty hands. "Speaking of which, where did they go? They just... vanished."
I hesitated. The truth—that my status screen listed them as artifacts I could summon at will—wouldn't make sense in this world. These people had no concept of the system or attributes or aspects. To them, magic followed different rules.
"They're bound to me," I said, keeping my voice casual. "Unless they break, they'll always return when I need them."
Laina's eyebrows drew together. "Return from where?"
I shrugged, trying to look mysterious rather than clueless. "Hard to explain. It's like they exist somewhere else when I'm not using them. A place between places."
"That doesn't make any sense." Her small violet eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Magic rarely does," I countered.
"The daggers are real," Joran called over his shoulder. "I saw them cut through reflector skin when normal weapons couldn't."
"I'm not questioning whether they're real," Laina said, crossing her arms. Her black hair shifted with the movement, framing her face in a way that softened her otherwise stern expression. "I'm questioning where they go when he's not using them."
I spread my hands. "Look, I don't fully understand it myself. They come when I call, they leave when I dismiss them. That's all I know."
This wasn't entirely a lie. I had no idea how the system actually worked—only that it did.
Laina studied me for a long moment, then shook her head. "Fine." She turned toward our scattered supplies. "We need to break camp anyway. We're losing time."
"Time until what?" I asked, grateful for the change in subject.
"Until we reach the marshes." She began gathering her belongings with quick, efficient movements. "It's three days' hard travel if we push. Longer if we keep getting attacked."
I glanced at Joran, who had finished his circuit and was now repacking his saddlebag. "The marshes are that dangerous?"
"Worse than reflectors," he said without looking up. "At least reflectors just kill you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He paused, hands stilling on the leather straps. "The Grief Marshes change people. The water there... it gets inside your head."
Laina nodded grimly. "Im told They drank the water when their supplies ran out. Started seeing things. Turned on each other."
I remembered my promise to the daggers: Serve me and I will make you known throughout the universe. The words had come at a desperate time, but now I wondered what exactly I'd committed to. If these artifacts truly had wills of their own, what did they want? Recognition? Power? Blood?
"Isaiah." Laina's voice snapped me back to the present. "You still with us?"
"Yeah, sorry." I moved to help her, ignoring the pain in my hands. "Just thinking about what you said. About the marshes."
She handed me a bedroll to tie. "There's a reason the Temple of Echoes has remained untouched all these years. It's not just the cold or the reflectors. It's the journey itself."
"The path breaks most who attempt it," Joran added, leading his horse closer to the fire. The animal's breath steamed in the cold air. "First the plains try to freeze you. Then the forest tries to lose you. Then the marshes try to drown you. If you somehow make it through all that, the highlands drive you mad before the mountains finally kill you."
"Yet here we are, trying anyway," I said.
Laina secured her bow across her back. "You're the one who needs to get there. We're just along for the ride."
I nodded at Laina's words, though the motion sent another wave of dizziness through me. My legs felt like water beneath me, and the burns on my hands pulsed with each heartbeat. The cold air bit at my exposed skin, making the contrast between my frozen and scorched flesh even more pronounced.
"We can't travel at night," I said, leaning against a nearby tree for support. "Not without light or fire. It's suicide."
Joran's eyes caught mine, sharp and assessing. "Staying here isn't much better. Those reflectors will have marked this location."
I studied our surroundings, noting how the shadows danced between the trees. My mind felt clearer now, the daggers' drain fading to a dull ache. "Maybe we don't have to move."
"Explain." Laina paused in her packing.
"The fire kept them at bay, right? They didn't attack until we were spread out, vulnerable." I pushed off from the tree, forcing myself to stand straighter despite the exhaustion. "So we build more fires. Create a perimeter."
Joran's brow furrowed. "We barely have enough wood for one night as is."
"There's plenty of dead wood in those trees." I gestured to the forest edge. "Reflectors hunt in pairs normally, you said it yourself. They sent three after us and lost all of them. They'll be more cautious now."
"Or angry," Laina countered.
"Either way, they're not stupid. Risk versus reward." I took a few steps toward the main fire, letting its warmth wash over me. "We make ourselves too costly to attack. Multiple fires, us in the center. They'll look for easier prey."
Joran and Laina exchanged a look.
"It could work," Joran admitted slowly. "But someone would need to gather the wood. In the dark."
I smiled, feeling a hint of my old confidence returning. "That's the best part. I can see perfectly in darkness." That was cap. At their skeptical looks, I added, "It's not just the daggers that make me special."
Laina snorted, but there was amusement in her violet eyes. "And here I thought you couldn't get more mysterious."
"Oh, I'm full of surprises." I rolled my shoulders, testing my returning strength. "Give me twenty minutes. I'll get enough wood to build us a proper fortress."
"Not alone," Joran said firmly. He pulled a small crystal from his pocket - the same type that had lit up during the reflector fight. "I'll come with you. Two sets of eyes are better than one."
"And I'll maintain the main fire," Laina added. "Start marking out where you want the perimeter fires. But Isaiah..." She fixed me with a stern look. "Don't push yourself too hard. Those burns need tending, and we need you functional tomorrow."
I glanced down at my hands, noting how the blisters had started to form angry patterns across my palms. "Worried about me?"
"Worried about having to carry you through the marshes," she retorted.
"Such concern." I straightened my coat, hiding a wince as the fabric brushed my burns. "Come on, Joran. Let's go build ourselves a wall of light."