PonyScape: Where the Heart is
Prologue - Gone Fishin'
Stardust woke with a start, her heart pounding. She’d had the dream again. Taking a few breaths to calm herself, she lay back in the dark and stared at the ceiling, watching her breath mist above her. With a flicker of saffron-coloured magic, the unicorn levitated the time piece from her bedside table to eye level, and groaned; it was still the far side of dawn, not that it mattered much down here.
She very much doubted she’d get back to sleep now; the chill air was doing little to aid her efforts. Kicking back the blankets, she lit her horn a second time and her robes drifted from where she’d hung them the previous night. No sense in delaying the inevitable. She quickly donned the heavy ensemble, drawing its thick hood over her head. Despite the warmth she still shivered. Stifling a yawn, she moved towards the corner of her cell where a small dresser and wooden crate stood. Stopping at the dresser she removed the remains of a thick white candle from a drawer, and eyed it critically.
“Half a day, if I’m any judge,” she muttered, “I can’t put it off forever…”
Another burst of saffron set the wick ablaze, and a sustained aura kept it bobbing at head height. Satisfied, the now robed unicorn turned to the large wooden crate. Opening the lid she peered in.
“Okay, just going to need candles for now. That makes it a little easier.”
A quick flicker of magic levitated one of the pressed oat rolls out of the crate and into her open mouth. She chewed and swallowed the snack quickly, not even bothering to grimace at the overly sweet taste. Satisfied, Stardust opened the door to her cell and ventured out into the dorms.
The door sounded unnaturally loud as she closed it, as did her hooves as she set off at a gentle trot down the dark stone corridor; not so long ago, this place would have been alive with the light of countless candles, enchanted to float high amongst the rafters, and buzzing with the chatter of Daughters of all ages and other essential staff going about their business. Now there was just her. Stardust hated what her home had become, a forgotten monument of glory long passed. In the dark corners of her mind she frequently harboured thoughts of leaving, but didn’t have the heart or courage; this had been the only place where she felt she had ever truly belonged, and if she were to leave who would perform the Duty?
The Duty. This was her life now; ensuring the continued survival of Mother’s legacy. She’d walked this path so many times now it was second nature. Her hooves knew the way and her mind was free to wander, not that she had much food for thought these days. She could always spend the day in the library again, but she’d need to venture to the store caverns soon with how low her candle supply was running. Being stuck in another cave-in was not an experience she wished to repeat, but she’d have to risk it; she couldn’t afford to be frivolous with her magic after all, not with the amount of food that was left. If she kept rationing at her current rate there’d be enough for another year, maybe two if she halved her already meagre portion. Mother wouldn’t be happy, but what else could she do?
Stardust was under no delusions; she was going to die, just like everypony would sooner or later. Admittedly, dying hungry, cold and alone wasn’t overly appealing, but this was her life now. She‘d had plenty of time to get used to the idea after all. A slight change to her surroundings jolted her out of her reveries; she’d entered a large atrium, its vaulted ceiling lost in the permanent fog high above her. What occupied her attention though was in front of her.
The Vault.
Despite the years of rust and neglect, its great iron doors were still just as imposing and awe-inspiring as ever, its heavy bolts and bars, caked with ice, were impossible to lift for all but the strongest of unicorn mages. This was the most secure part of the Sanctum; Mother had designed it to hold off an army.
Just as well, too.
Stardust shivered at the unpleasant memories before rapping gently on the iron monster. The four knocks boomed around the hallway, dislodging icicles and rust which tumbled down around the unicorn’s head. She took a short step back, and waited for the echoes to die away; she fancied she heard the distant rumble of a cave-in in some distant and forgotten wing. Satisfied that she was safe from immediate head trauma, Stardust approached the great doors again.
“Mother,” she called softly, “It’s Star. Let me in, please?”
No response.
Stardust sighed, Mother must still be asleep; she was up unusually early, after all. Oh well, might as well see about stocking up on candles in the mean-
There was a flash of light, a sense of movement, and a slightly queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She blinked a few times, taking in her new surroundings; Mother must’ve woken up early too. Like the majority of her home, the interior of the Vault was shrouded in a permanent veil of dust that never settled. The only exception here was a faint glow near the centre of the room, giving everything an eerie bluish tint. Giving her head one last shake for good measure, Stardust set off in a straight line towards the glow. She kept her pace slow and steady, the candle floating close to her head; the last thing she wanted was to do was slip off one of the catwalks and break her neck. The tell-tale clatter of metal under-hoof told her that was precisely where she was. Pausing, she stole a quick glance over the railing, the light of her candle doing little to penetrate the gloom below.
It was hard to believe that Mother’s Legacy was down there, sleeping soundly, oblivious to the horrors that had been committed outside their little haven, safe and secure whilst her Sisters had- Stardust took a breath. No, they weren’t to blame. They’d already suffered enough long before Mother gave them purpose. They weren’t to blame. Taking another breath, she continued along the catwalk.
After a few minutes she’d reached the heart of the Vault, or more precisely, Mother’s Heart. It was a large gem or crystal, (if there was a difference she couldn’t tell), shaped like a traditional love-heart and glowing with a gentle blue light; it was perfectly formed, with no sign of tools being used in its shaping at all. It floated gently at the centre of the room, with no visible means of support, emitting a gentle hum that made Stardust’s spine tingle. The curious thing was that Stardust never questioned where the Heart had come from; contrary to its alien appearance and nature, she’d always been saddled with the unshakable feeling that it… belonged here more than the Sanctum did, more than she did.
Shivering not entirely from the cold, she reached out and touched the floating stone.
“Good morning, Mother,” she whispered softly, her voice echoing regardless, “I’m sorry if I woke you.”
There was no response, at least in the common sense. Stardust instead felt a warm wave of fondness and reassurance wash over her, along with a tinge of concern.
The unicorn smiled.
“No, I’m alright really. It was just a dream. I’m fine now, promise.”
Relief mixed with undertones of scepticism.
“Please. I’m still standing aren’t I? I’ve enough to keep going for the time being. I was thinking that I can make the supplies last longer if I half my rations.”
Concern.
“Well, what else can I do, Mother? There’s only me now; no-pony even knows I’m still alive. I honestly doubt anypony up there even remembers the Sanctum is even here,” she snapped, her voice rising, “All I can do is keep your Legacy alive, just like you told me to, and just like I have done for the last five years!”
Heavy regret, mixed with appreciation and sorrow.
“No, I’m the one who should apologise,” she said, shaking her head, “You’re the reason I’m still here in the first place. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted.”
Forgiveness, mixed with understanding.
“To be honest, I doubt I’d have stayed sane without you here.”
Humour.
“Yes, I’m well aware that I’m talking to a heart-shaped crystal, but it would be rude if I ignored it.”
More humour, mixed with excitement and anticipation.
Stardust wrinkled her brow in confusion.
“What do you mean? I’m sorry Mother, but I don’t understand.”
A rush of emotions surged through her mind; Excitement and relief jostled with each other for dominance, whilst a small serpent of guilt slithered around them. At the very bottom was an undeniable wave of fear. All of these were suddenly washed away by an overwhelming sense of something Stardust hadn’t felt in years; hope.
Stardust’s frown deepened.
“I still don’t understand. Somepony is coming here, to the Sanctum? How? Who are they?”
No emotions this time, but words. Three words popped into Stardust’s mind, seemingly of their own volition.
The Green Stallion
There was a sound like the beating of a hundred butterfly wings, and Aliks’ world exploded back into view. He’d been looking forward to this trip; there was nothing he liked more than an afternoon in the tropics with a deckchair, a fishing rod and a good book, with no pesky fish for miles around; yes, this was going to be–
He tripped on one of the inner mushroom rings, his luggage flying in all directions, and fell face first into a snowdrift. A snowdrift; that was… unexpected, so much so that he couldn’t find his voice to yell in surprise.
He laid there in shock, his arms and legs refusing to budge. At the same time, he was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he was, suddenly, very cold... actually no, freezing. It took a few seconds to rally his arms in an attempt to shakily push himself out of the drift. Steadily, and taking care to avoid landing on his backside, he got to his feet. When he felt stable enough, he gave a full-body shiver with a whimper thrown in for good measure. Feeling a little better, he started to brush himself down.
It wasn’t surprising that he was feeling the cold so badly; he’d dressed for the beach after all, not the godsforsaken North. Though to be fair his beachwear was no different to his every-daywear. His cloak and robes were good for the fairly temperate climates of the Asgarnian provinces he called home, but weren’t really suitable for this sort of weather; he was wearing open- toe sandals for Guthix’s sake!
Satisfied that he was free from the vile white powder, Aliks took a good look at his surroundings. This was most definitely not Mos Le’Harmless; if it was, then something had gone extremely wrong with the weather and geography, (or more likely the fairy ring network). This was more what the naïve liked to dub a “Wintumber Wonderland”, though in this case “Wasteland” might have been more appropriate; everything for as far as the eye could see was caked in snow, the only visible plant life were pathetic matchstick trees, hung heavy with ice and frost. The sky wasn’t much better, a washed out steel-grey with a watery sun trying but failing miserably at its job.
Yep, he wouldn’t be staying here any longer than necessary.
Shivering, he began rummaging through the drifts, picking up his gear from where it had landed and stacking the larger items by the fairy ring: Deckchair? Check; Tackle box? Check; Book? Oh, no... The ink had run where the snow had melted; now he’d never know who done it. Sighing, he stuffed the ruined book into his satchel. He was still missing something, but what? A chill wind blew past, ruffling his braids and further chilling his head.
Ah, of course.
He shuffled over to a snow drift that was sporting a battered wide-brimmed hat; it tinkled gently as the wind played with the feathers and other assorted knick-knacks secured in the band. Stooping, he picked it up by the brim, dusted it down and set it firmly on his head.
Right, was that everything? Ah, not quite. He stooped down again and took hold of a root sticking out of the drift, pulling it out to reveal a length of wood less than half a metre in length; its tip curved like a shepherd’s crook whilst its hilt was smoothed for an easy and comfortable grip. He stuck this in his belt; certain that it would stay put this time. Well, that was all his gear accounted for.
Now it was just a question of where his Trusty Companion had wandered off to.
An indignant and muffled mechanical squawk from under his feet answered that.
“Error! Error! Item-clog-in-all-external-ports-detected! Total-system-failure-imminent!
With a sigh the mage took half a step back, stooped for what he hoped would be the last time, and with a grimace, pulled as his Trusty Companion free of the snow; it was a small, squat robot, its odd root-like body and tendril-limbs overlaid with squares of dull-green metal. Aliks gave the miniature automaton a vigorous shake, causing clumps of snow to fall from its cavities, before setting it on the ground. It swayed as if dazed, before getting its bearings and looking up at its liberator. The inverted triangle of metal that served as its head sported a large V-shaped slit of cyan light. Clearly, it was not impressed.
“Cresbot-is-fully-capable-of-removing-port-clogs-Aliksandar: Please-refrain-from-repeating-such-actions-in-the-future.” The little robot scorned; its tinny voice petulant, “Port-clogs-aside-Cresbot-was-at-risk-of-a-total-system-failure-due-to-the-addition-of-Aliksandar’s-excessive-body-mass.”
“Oh, switch-off Cres,” Aliks smirked as the metal ingrate dusted itself down, evicting the more stubborn clumps of snow with its delicate appendages, “We both know it’d take more than me standing on you to break you. Also, I am not fat; if anything I’ve been underweight for the majority of my life!”
“Cresbot-begs-to-differ: Aliksandar’s-body-mass-has-increased-by-five-units-since- measurements-were-last-updated.”
“And since when has measuring my waistline been part of your programming?”
The V was replaced by a diagonal line of three dots.
“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: Maintenance-of-Aliksandar’s-health-is-central-to-Cresbot’s-primary-mode-of-Companionship. In-addition-to-monitoring-weight-Cresbot-also-monitors-the-following: Physical-health, psychological-health, diet, sleep-routine, and-various-sub-sets-and-miscellanea.” The little robot seemed to beam with pride, “Data-is-updated-once-every-calendar-month.”
The mage cocked an eyebrow.
“And when do you manage to do all that? I haven’t caught you scrutinising me from the side-on before.”
“Cresbot-is-able-to-take-efficient-anatomical-measurements- when-Aliksandar-is-asleep.”
There was an awkward silence, broken when Aliks cleared his throat.
“When we get home,” he grimaced, trying his hardest to not wonder how thorough these measurements had been, “You and I are going to have a serious talk about privacy and personal space.”
If the little robot heard this, it gave no sign. Instead it chose to look around, taking in its surroundings for the first time. Finally it looked back at its owner, the three dots replaced by a disappointed w-shape.
“Cresbot-assumes-that-there-was-an-error-inputting-the-ring-coordinates-Aliksandar?”
Trying not to pout, the mage scowled at his companion.
“And why is it automatically my fault?” he griped, “There could have been a fault in the network for all we know.”
“Cresbot-understands: You-are-only-human.”
“Oi! That’s enough of that,” he chuckled, offering an arm to the lippy automaton, “Come on; let’s go.”
The w shape was quickly replaced by an inverted-U as the little machine scrambled up and clung contentedly to his shoulders. He could feel the metal points of its hands and feet poking into his neck and upper back; it was an awkward sensation but it wasn’t painful. Satisfied that his companion wasn’t about to fall off again, Aliks got to his feet.
He looked around at the landscape again; there was something about this place that set his skin into goosebumps, and it wasn’t just the temperature. Something was wrong. Inherently wrong; like it didn’t really belong. He shrugged mentally; Oh well, not his problem anyway. The sooner they got away, the better he’d feel. He trudged back to the fairy ring, picked up his gear, stepped into the central ring, and waited.
…
Nothing happened. No rush of butterfly wings, no blur of colours, nothing; just the sound of the wind, howling like a great mournful beast.
Well, this was odd.
Aliks raised a hand to his face and massaged his cheeks, checking for irregularities; nothing felt loose. Deciding on further examination, he probed around the inside of his mouth with his tongue; the false tooth that allowed him to use the network was still there, so he wasn’t the issue.
“Is-there-a-problem-Aliksandar?” Cres enquired, peering over the mage’s shoulder, “Only-Cresbot-and-Aliksandar-do-not-appear-to-have-moved.”
Aliks shrugged as he stepped out of the ring.
“No idea. My tooth’s fine, but maybe the cold could be affecting the mushrooms, what do you think?”
“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: ERROR. No-data-available!”
“Calm down,” he sighed, “I was being rhetorical. Let’s try again.”
He stepped into the ring again, and waited. Apart from a sudden gust of wind blowing up his skirts and chilling his legs, nothing happened.
“Oh, come on! Don’t do this to me!”
Aliks threw down his gear and stormed out of the fungal circle, fuming. He crouched by the outer ring and gave one of the mushrooms a prod with his wand. There was nothing. Not even a spark. This wasn’t just a simple error in the network; the ring was dead.
He stared at the sad fungal ring in disbelief. This was a first, he’d never heard of a fairy ring… well, drying up before; heck, the Edgeville ring had survived being bombarded by Dragonkin. Long story short, they were incredibly difficult to damage, let alone break; he wasn’t sure they could break. Still, while this was food for thought, and something to grill Fairy Fixit over later, it was hardly an inconvenience; after all, any wizard worth his stupid pointy-hat always kept a means for teleportation about his person.
He opened his satchel and rummaged around. After a minute, his rummaging became a little more frantic; he hadn’t packed any law runes. In his defence, he had never actually earned the stupid pointy-hat… oh, bugger.
Panic was building in the mage’s chest and paranoia buzzed around his mind. He was never going to live this down; when word got out about this he’d be the butt of every joke at the Tower; tutors would hold him up to their students as the example of “How not to do it”. Assuming he even got back; he had no idea where he was. In all likelihood, he would starve to death out here, never to be found. On a lighter note, he wouldn’t live through the unbearable embarrassment; the dead didn’t tend to care much beyond their remains being disturbed or their right to pass over.
A mechanised chirping in his ear drew his attention back to the moment.
“Sorry, what?” he apologised, wrestling with the rising panic, “I wasn’t paying attention. What did you say?”
“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: Aliksandar-Cresbot-has-detected-a-significant-increase-in-your-heart-rate. Cresbot-recommends-Aliksandar-take-immediate-calmative-measures-to-prevent-further-escalation.”
“Easier said than done,” the mage muttered, “Also, stop... reading… my body like that Cres; it’s creepy.”
“Request: Acknowledged. Cresbot-makes-no-apologies-for-fulfilling-Cresbot’s-primary-function.” The little robot retorted, “Additionally-due-to-the-continued-absence-of-teleportation-Cresbot-assumes-that-Aliksandar-did-not-pack-law-runes.”
It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement. It was also the nail in the coffin.
“Yes!” he admitted wretchedly; panic finally winning out, “I forgot to bring law runes! And as a result, I’ve stranded us in the middle of nowhere where I will subsequently die of starvation or exposure! Considering how bloody cold it is, the smart money’s on freezing!”
Cresbot waited for his companion’s ranting to subside and his breathing to become more regular. Satisfied that he was as rational as humans got, Cresbot addressed the mage again.
“As-Ms-Ayla-would-enquire: Does-Aliksandar-feel-better-now?”
“Honestly? Yes. Yes I do.” He breathed deeply, letting the chill air fill his lungs, “However, that doesn’t change the fact you and I are well and truly up the creek, my metal friend.”
“Then-considering-the-situatuion-Cresbot-recommends-the-immediate-use-of-an-Emergency-Teleport.”
Aliks wanted to kick himself; the solution had been right under his nose the whole time, he’d just been too caught up the panic and fear of ridicule to think straight. And what’s worse is that he needed to be reminded of something so integral and basic. The Emergency Teleport System was a network of lodestones spread across the continent, intended for exactly this occasion; if an Adventurer were to get hopelessly lost in the wilds, they could activate this spell and teleport to the nearest one, which generally put them outside the gates of the larger towns or cities. Most Adventurers carried it on their person at all times, Draynor Tower mass-produced the spell in easy-to-read pamphlets; students at the Tower had the formula drummed into them from day one until they knew it by heart. He may have never earned the stupid hat, but quite a bit had stuck through the years.
He looked forlornly at his luggage. An Emergency Teleport didn’t allow room for additions; he’d have to leave everything behind, his deckchair, his tackle box... Oh, well; replacing them would be a lot easier than replacing him. Wand in hand, he squatted and drew a sharp circle about himself in the snow, to focus the network’s magic. Grimacing, he sat down cross-legged in a meditative stance, closed his eyes and, trying to ignore his now cold and damp rump, recited the words.
He opened his eyes, fully expecting a dramatic change to his surroundings. He was horrified to discover that everything had maliciously chosen to remain white and wintry.
“Perhaps-Aliksandar-mispronounced-part-of-the-incantation?” a metallic voice chirped helpfully.
Aliks gave a small sigh of resignation. It had been quite a while since he’d last needed to do this; perhaps he had mispronounced one of the words. He closed his eyes and recited the words again.
He opened his eyes; tundra greeted him.
“Oh, come on!”
The mage struggled to his feet, his mind whirring. This was insane! Apart from the deep Wilderness the network could be accessed anywhere on Gielinor. And considering that he was not surrounded by creatures bent on killing him every ten seconds, he was reasonably sure that this wasn’t the Wilderness. So, why in the flipping hippo wasn’t the spell working?! He’d said the words, and there was no question of his getting them wrong; Wizard Isidor had been able to cure even the most forgetful students through the unintentional (but very real) threat of outright humiliation in front of one’s friends, peers and mentors.
So, if he wasn’t the problem, what had gone wrong?
The penny dropped with a rather nasty clatter.
The network could be accessed anywhere on Gielinor.
“Oh, no.”
“Is-there-a-problem-Aliksandar?”
“Well, you remember that creek I mentioned earlier?” The mage gave a mirthless chuckle, “Well, we’re not so much up it without a paddle as we are up it without a boat.”
There was a mechanical whirring from Cres. Aliks sighed inwardly; metaphors were not the little robot’s forte.
“We’re not on Gielinor,” he clarified, “the E-Teleport is useless here, wherever here is. And with the fairy ring drained-“
“And-Aliksandar’s-lack-of-foresight.”
“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” he muttered irritably; looks like the ridicule had already begun, “It looks like we are well and truly stranded in this Godsforsaken wasteland.”
The mage let out a long sigh of resignation; panic had run its course and working himself into a frenzy now would certainly do him no good. His energy would be better spent thinking of a way to repower the ring.
“Well, Cres. Any ideas would be appreciated.”
“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Please-wait.”
Aliks waited for his Trusty Companion to respond, impatiently stamping his feet and huffing on his hands. Thinking would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so damn cold; the temperature seemed to have dropped since he’d arrived, not to mention that the wind seemed to be picking up too!
Seeing a niche to be filled, paranoia descended; there were just too many unlikely coincidences piling up here: the fairy ring just happened to run out of magic, stranding him on some desolate backwater world, thus ruling out Emergency Teleports, on a day that he hadn’t bothered to keep law runes about his person?
This was a set-up.
Something had been waiting for him to let his guard down, and now it had pounced! Whatever had engineered his arrival here could be out there now, watching his every move, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. How had it had known that he would be without means of escape and armed only to deal with unruly sea trolls? Had it been watching him, learning his routine? And just how powerful was this thing if it could hijack teleports and drain fairy rings dry?
Aliks kept a tight hold of his wand; he suddenly felt very alone and exposed. The whistling of the wind seemed to have a far more menacing quality than it did before.
“Cresbot-has-a-solution.”
There was a shrill scream and a fireball erupted from the wand; it soared through the air, blazing like a second sun, before hitting the ground with a muted thump, an angry hiss, and a large column of steam some distance away. Certain that his heart was no longer at risk of leaping out of his throat, Aliks turned his head to his Trusty Companion.
“What was that for?!” he demanded, his breathing ragged. “What was that for, eh? You almost gave me a heart attack, for Guthix’s sake. I thought you were monitoring my body?”
“Due-to-Aliksandar-labling-the-function-‘creepy’-Cresbot-complied-with-Aliksandar’s-request-and-disabled-monitoring-routines,” the little robot explained, its metal face sporting the V, “Therefore-Cresbot-was-unable-to-predict-Aliksandar’s-reaction-to-external-stimuli!”
“Alright, I get it! You’ve made your point,” Aliks took a moment to compose himself, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. Now, would you please tell me your idea?”
“Firstly-Cresbot-has-concluded-that-this-scenario-has-been-engineered-by-an-unknown-third-party. Secondly- Cresbot-acknowledges-that-the-only-means-of-transportation-is-beyond-Aliksandar’s-abilities-to-repair.”
“And this is you being helpful, is it?”
“Therefore-Cresbot-recommends-that-Aliksandar-locate-whatever-is-responislbe-for-disabling-the-ring-and-if-it-is-organic-persuade-them-to-restore-the-ring.”
“Assuming they’re open to reason.”
“And-if-it-is-mechanical-reduce-it-to-its-basic-components.”
“Assuming that it can be broken.”
“If-Cresbot-has-learned-that-given-enough-magic-Aliksandar-is-capable-of-achieving-the-improbable.”
“I packed for an afternoon’s holiday, Cres. Not open warfare.”
“Then-Cresbot-reccommends-Aliksandar-pray-that-whatever-is-responsible-is-both-organic-and-open-to-reason.”
“Well, as plans go it sounds simple enough,” Aliks agreed, “However, there’s only one tiny flaw so far that I can see; how do I find what’s pulling the strings?”
“ERROR: No-data-available.”
“Terrific,” he muttered.
Sighing again, the mage massaged the bridge of his nose; he was starting to get a headache. Well, whatever was pulling the strings had to be a reasonable distance from the fairy ring. After all, it had lost power after he’d come through, so who or whatever had to have some way of watching the ring. Aliks look around at the barren tundra; aside from the column of steam serenely curling skyward some distance to the south, nothing really stood out. He very much doubted that the matchstick trees were the manipulative, omnipotent fiend they sought. His gaze lingered on his trigger finger’s handy work.
Just how deep was this snow?
Resolved to solve at least one mystery he started trudging south, pausing briefly to set the matchstick trees ablaze with a salvo of well-aimed fireballs.
Well, you couldn’t be too careful, now could you?
Surprisingly, Aliks’ paranoia had been right on the money; something had been watching him since his arrival. Invisible to the naked eye, they had crowded around him like moths drawn to a candle in the dark.
While they didn’t have memory in the common sense of the word, they could recall when there had once been many warm things like this one, and the revulsion they held for this foul thing and its ilk. The warm was nothing more than an aberration of nature; an aberration that dared to take from the Cold, to drive it into the far corners and forgotten spaces with treacherous light and biting heat. But the Cold was patient; let the warm things fight, they would succumb in time.
Everything did.
While this trespasser was new to the entities, its contempt for the Cold was no different to that of all warm things; its vicious and unprovoked assaults said more than enough! It would not be tolerated.
It would be made to yield.
The windigos pursued Aliks, howling in his ears and harrowing him with freezing gusts, snatching at his cloak and robes with icy fingers that made him shiver and stumble. Spiralling together above him, they brought forth the storm.