NEVEN

One more test before the Volaris Tourney...

He expected pride and urgency to swell him with the desire to excel, but nightmares ruined it. Nightmares caked with crimson unease and nervous claws. Neven held his ice glaive close. I always get picked first, maybe that's why I feel so queasy. I set an example to the others. It pressurized his spine, still sore from the battle against the creature of his nightmares as he hid himself in the rank and file of Ice Squires. Yeah... nerves.

Knight-Valiant Utuvar would throw everything he had at them for this test. Frosty thralls hovered on the water, and he shivered at the haunted crimson laden behind the frost. It drove into his throat, but he refused to shake in the torment of his nightmares.

Except it wasn't only Utuvar.

A woman stood beside him, her dark gold hair done in the traditional Navee loops around her feathers. The armor she wore speckled silver with yellow trimmings, and the crest of a wyvern stretched its wings along her plate, and a crescent blade hung off her hip. Around her neck, a necklace glittered with snow, and the same giant wings shielded a star.

"As you know," Utuvar spoke, breaking their attention off the woman in their training field. "In a breath's time I'll be taking the best of you to the Volaris Tournament." He folded his arms. "I must remind you not all of you will get that esteemed honor — but make no mistake — there is no greater honor than to protect our home. Greater still to protect those who need you." He tapped the tip of his glaive against the pond and the frosty thralls fell apart. "This is Anaysa — a Storm Warden who came here to seek out new recruits, she is actually from Irimount, but left to follow a higher calling."

Most of the Ice Squires stared blankly at them both.

Neven raised an eyebrow.

Utuvar pressed his lips together into a thin line.

"I think most of us just want to get through the test, sir," Neven said what he knew was on the other's minds. "Without an audience. Leave that to the tourney."

"I won't take too much of your time," Anaysa said with a smile at him when Utuvar raised an eyebrow. "I was expecting a chilly reception, but at least someone said something."

"Then couldn't you have waited?" Neven grumbled and tried to shake out the broken song crawling over his neck, and some Squires nodded along. "I mean no disrespect to the Storm Warden Order, my lady."

Anaysa tipped her head with a colder grin. "And here I gave you my name, and you have yet to give me yours, young one."

Neven lifted his head. "I don't feel it is proper in this circumstance."

"Why not?" she pressed. "We are both warriors wielding weapons for a cause. We greet each other with the power of our names. I'm just here to observe." Her attention drew over the blank-faced squires. "I've been granted the rare opportunity by the Scholars of Irimount to seek out prospective recruits, as Utuvar said. I wouldn't have received such a warm welcome in Volaris."

Neven drew his gaze to her boots.

"You want to give her your name?" Utuvar asked, but he heard the underlying order.

Neven gripped his glaive. "Neven Lotayrin," he forced through his teeth. "Ser, can we start the tests? We don't have much time before the tourney."

Utuvar manifested the frosty thralls through large entry glyphs. "It seems you're a little off-kilter today, Lotayrin, so let's start with you," he said in predictable fashion. Neven approached out of the ranks, and eyed Anaysa when she leaned on the wall to the weapon storage with a curled smirk. "Try not to mind the audience, you're going to get a bigger one if I decide you're good enough for the Tourney."

He ignored the Storm Warden to focus on the objective ahead. I trained so hard for this moment. Unease rippled his stomach when he stepped onto the pond. I don't think my trick from before will work a second time... but I have another up my sleeve. Except all his attempts left him exhausted, but it was his only chance to show what he was made of. He counted the frosty thralls and tried to ignore the tugging of crimson underneath the layer of frost. One sweep should be enough, then I can focus on him without worrying about these.

"Whenever you're ready, Lotayrin," Utuvar said and broke his train of thoughts. "Since you're the one who's in such a rush."

Neven skated onto the water and tried to ignore the Storm Warden's appraising gaze.

One of the frost thralls rushed him in his momentary distraction. He sucked in ice from the air and dodged out of their attacks to focus on the rippling song in his lungs. Snow scattered over the fire runes and across his boots. One slip up, and the Knight Valiant would have the advantage over him. His small ice platforms sank with his slippery movements. Breathe even. Feel the cold and the flow of magic. Let it soak into my thoughts — my breath... like Father's books said.

Each dissipated thrall added cold mist to the air. Energy expanded his lungs against his rib cage as he caught the powdered magick when he breathed in and dodged the swipes. It let out a familiar, unearthly moan to crack icicles out of spines. He drove his teeth into his tongue to gather it in the back of his throat. He brought his balled fists in front of his lips when Utuvar swung his glaive through the mist. Glyphs exploded from the small opening in his fists, sharpening into icy fire. It burst out of his lungs, and when his icy fire crashed into the extra thralls, they exploded into melted crystals.

The wyvern's fire.

Neven used the momentum of a small wave to lunge at Utuvar when he waved the mist out of his eyes. He ducked, and Neven grunted when he caught him by the chest to toss him to the side. On his feet, Neven tried to catch the rest of his breath again.

"Where did you learn that, Lotayrin?" Utuvar questioned.

Out of breath, Neven grinned. "I read it in a book." His world spun and the air squeezed out of his nostrils and bit it with frost.

Utuvar raised his glaive. "Most of the senior Sentinels struggle with the wyvern's fire. It is exhausting magick to use for a training battle, Lotayrin."

Neven gasped out the rest of the air in his chest when Utuvar swiped his legs clean out from underneath him. He tossed ice into Utuvar's face, and the force of the glyph pushed them both to the edge. Utuvar wiped the snow out of his eyes with a scowl at him, but he rolled out of the way when Utuvar slammed the glaive downwards into the water, freezing it at its blade. "You know, you're good, Lotayrin," Utuvar said and relinquished his glaive from the ice. "I'd almost go so far as to say you're the best — but you have a worrying knack of not understanding how to pace yourself." He nudged Neven onto the bank with a nod at Anaysa. "So, what do you think of 'my best'?"

"Why are you asking her?" Neven asked.

"She's watching because she wants to see if any of you are good enough to be helpful to the Storm Wardens, that's the reason I'm letting her view this," Utuvar explained.

"Indeed," she said. "You fight well, Neven Lotayrin."

Neven straightened himself out and stared at his reflection in the pond. "Thank you, ma'am." He frowned when she stepped onto the ice, causing Utuvar to move off. "What?"

"It seems I have to do a little more to earn my warmer welcome," she said. "Utuvar, I want to fight your best squire."

"What?" Neven jolted, and the Squires expressions turned into sudden, pointed interest.

"Is that a problem, Neven Lotayrin?" she asked. "You know, I was raised on the tales of your ancestor. I followed the ideals of the Knights Six once. One could say I even wanted to be an Ice Knight."

Neven glared at her, causing her to straighten herself out with a satisfied grin and a perk of her grey feathers. "If you hold to the ideal of the Knights Six, then you must understand why I cannot fight you." He shoved his glaive in the ground. "They protected the innocent — those that couldn't protect themselves."

"Just so, and here I am, with a blade at my hip, so I ask once more, is there a problem?" Anaysa stood on miniscule ice platforms. "Surely a knight such as you can teach me what it means to have that ideal?"

It jittered across his skin with a golden sheen. "Fine," he said. "Then I challenge you, Warden." He stepped back onto the pond, and Utuvar rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I assume you understand the rules of honorable combat?"

"You can start by acknowledging my name, little one," she replied.

"Warden Anaysa."

"Much better," Anaysa said. "I shall give you the first move, Ser Lotayrin."

Agitation crawled through his fingertips.

"Lotayrin," Utuvar warned from the side. "This is not an opponent you can fight as you fight me."

"I'll be fine, Ser, I've trained for this," he hissed, drawing his glaive to his side. Anaysa's sharp blue eyes thinned into the beaded pupils of a wyvern. He waited for the waters to still, then lunged, jumping over the slight, shaky disturbance she made in the pool, a costly mistake. He threw his magick into each wave to try and attack the ice underneath her boots, but she slid through each one with the graceful dance of wyverns. He lifted his glaive to push her out of the fight, but he grunted when she threw her entire weight into him. Her elbow cracked against his face, and her foot hooked behind his ankles. One more quick instant, she used the momentum of his own waves to toss him out of the ring and into the snow bank. He scrambled out of it as a hiss of ice blazed into view, and she leaped off the highest point to slam her crescent blade inches from his neck, looming over him with a sharp smile to reveal her canines.

It melted his heart into a puddle of goo at the shocked expression of the squires.

He slid backwards to press deeper into the snow bank.

"I can see so much in just a moment," Anaysa said. "You have such good technique, Neven Lotayrin — weighed down only as a Naveeran does, with no knowledge of anything different then what you're taught."

Neven resisted the urge to draw out a hiss. "You didn't even draw your weapons."

Anaysa patted the hilt of the crescent blade. "I only reserve this to protect the innocent against Derelicts, young man. I will never use it against the people I've sworn to protect," she said with a chuckle. "I wanted to see the potential of the Ice Squires, and Utuvar made me believe you were different."

"Sorry to disappoint you." He drove his fingers into the snow, and shivered at the memory of the Derelict, slavering for him, but he screamed out his song and gave birth to a wyvern from his voice.

"Who said I was disappointed?" Anaysa asked. "Another question... have you encountered a Derelict?"

Neven glared at her.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Anaysa said. "I know Naveera has its views, frozen in its ways. I was hoping for a chance to show them otherwise. How long have you been training to be a Sentinel?"

Neven drove the cold into his palm. "Four turns."

"You have the desire to protect, and I can respect that."

"More than anything," Neven said and drowned in his pride. "Just like Atoran of the Ice Blade. I want to protect my people, where maybe someday we can leave these walls without fear of icebeasts or Derelicts. I want to help make that happen. I want my people to see the sun."

Victory flashed in her sharp blue eyes. "A noble goal, so far out of reach considering the state of Naveera," she added. "Tell me, Neven Lotayrin, can you rise past the ice stuck to your feathers to go past the mountain range?"

Neven frowned. "Past it?"

"I've had my eye on you since I came here and Utuvar sang your praises to me."

Neven frowned when the squires continued to the training bouts with him. "Why me?"

"You labour under the assumption I was looking for potential in your fighting skills, Neven. I was looking at the strength of your heart — in Navei tales it's said a hero's strength is measured by this single virtue. Their heart," Anaysa whispered. "That is what I look for in Trainees, and what I want to see in the Naveera I love." Anaysa grabbed him and tugged him to his feet out of the snow bank. "You could use those skills for a noble goal. You can help people in need, further than Irimount and our mountain walls. Derelicts haunt the lands, preying on the innocent who only want to live their lives."

Neven drew from her. "I'd have to leave Irimount."

"Yes, but you can return," she said. "I'll give you some time to consider it, Neven Lotayrin. I did not come expecting to convince anyone — but the fact you listened all the same gives me hope. It's much easier to fight a Derelict, in my opinion, than to change our ways." Her amused smile returned. "I'll be here by tourney's end, but I'll be gone after." Her shoulders drooped. "I can see something in you, Neven Lotayrin... there isn't many of our people in the Order."

"Why?"

"We love our cold," Anaysa whispered. "We love our cold, our traditions, our way of seeing the world, but..." Her breath came out awed, in love. "Once you've seen the sky, felt the warm fresh air, bathed in the rays of the sun..." She outstretched her arms. "It makes you wonder what's past that blizzard, what's in our skies."

"I heard it was deathly hot and if we step out into it we'll melt," he mumbled.

"The heat can be a bit of a shock," Anaysa admitted.

Inquisitiveness lit an ember of hope in his stomach. "I thought the Storm Wardens stayed on their mountain home."

"We go where we're needed the most, but for some, Euros is the only home they have left," Anaysa said. "Think about it, Lotayrin, but in the end only you can make that choice. Being a Storm Warden is a lifelong commitment you don't retire from. It is a calling not all can take, and to force it on others does not inspire the loyalty and heart we now seek within the Order."

His glaive weighed heavy in his hands. "I don't know," he murmured and couldn't look her in the eye — not out of proprietary, but out of uncertainty. "I... my calling... I've always wanted to be like Atoran of the Ice Blade. I've always wanted to follow his footsteps."

It was unthinkable to imagine anything else — let alone the rays of the rising sun.

Yet here she was, touched by them and standing strong.

"I do understand," she said. "You have time, Lotayrin, before I leave."

Neven watched her leave, and found himself no longer enjoying the sight of his fellow squires getting their behinds handed on ice platters. He scowled and headed into the storage to put his glaive away, but found himself fettered by the same weight as before. He wandered out of the garrison, having lost two battles. His steps filled with pressure in his boots as he wandered familiar, cold streets. Shadows stretched and grew teeth, and he sank into his shoulders and drew his fangs over his lips.

He entered the Lotayrin villa, still nestled in the shadow of the spire Father worked at.

He knocked clumps of snow off his boots in the draining dip at the door. "Mother?" He raised his head to her shape at the fireplace, where she knitted a baby cowl.

"Neven?" she rasped and launched out of her chair. "Oh, Snowflake. I barely get to see you since you started training, how have you been?"

Neven shut the door behind him to block out the cold for her. "I'm fine. You?"

Her gaze darkened, but her smile contrasted it. "Hale and whole, and better to see my snowflake growing up. How was your training today? You never talk to us about it."

Neven sank into the furs and blankets on the couch, and Mother followed him. "I met a Storm Warden today."

"Anaysa? Yes, I saw her earlier," Mother said. "Their cause is a noble one. Why?"

He buried his head underneath a bunch of furs. "She... she said I have the potential to be a Storm Warden, but all I've ever wanted to do was protect Irimount."

"But if that's what you want instead, you shouldn't let this place hold you back."

He lifted himself out of the furs of confusion at the biting ice in her tone. Her smile never wavered or broke, and he questioned what he heard. "But—"

"Neven... being a Sentinel is an honorable calling," she whispered. "Through the generations, the Lotayrin's have been mighty warriors."

"I want this," he begged for an answer to his uncertainty. "I've never wanted anything but this. I always followed my inner song like you said, and it's always led me in Atoran's footsteps."

Mother smiled. "Is that truly what your song is singing? I think you should listen to its notes a little deeper. Either way, Snowflake." Her hand wound through his feathers. "Whatever you want, I'll support you."

Emptiness filled his heart when he eyed the back door. "Where's Dad?"

"Working late again." Mother dropped her hand from his cheek. "He might be home soon if you want to talk to him, but you should head back to the garrison. It seems you have a lot to think about."

Neven nodded and tapped his brow against hers. Her song rang with a simple truth. He dreamed of outside the walls, but never past the mountain. Interrupted by the giant wings of Evyriaz, the star's song beckoned him along the passage of the music. A notion of choice, a chance to see outside the walls of the blizzard.

I need to see this through. I've been training for this. I need to at least try.

He returned to the barracks and ignored the whispering of the other squires, who thought of nothing but their goal ahead — winning the tourney and the chance to be a Blizzard Sentinel.

He sank into his bed and drowned in obscurity.

I... I don't know what I want... I don't know what the song is trying to tell me...