[Chr24] Frozen Water

The cracking and groaning of the ice beneath the ship was the loudest sound for miles, a haunting melody carried by the frigid winds. Whitt clutched her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the biting cold seeping into her very bones. She was beginning to think she might go mad from the ceaseless creaks and groans that had followed them since entering the northern seas. Kiyo and Ayden were still near the bow staring out at the rocky island in the distance. It loomed like a mirage, so close yet painfully unreachable. Kiyo’s hand gripped the rail tightly, her breath curling in faint white clouds as her polar bavee companion, Pip, flitted in the air around her head. Ayden’s normally vibrant energy was subdued, her posture stiff as she scanned the horizon.

Behind Whitt, a chorus of muffled laughter erupted. She turned to see Toki crouched with a group of sailors, their fingers raw and red as they tossed dice across a frozen crate. Toki’s grin stretched wide but it didn’t reach her eyes.

A sudden, jarring silence fell as the ship gave a violent lurch. The groaning stopped, replaced by an unnatural stillness. Whitt stumbled forward, catching herself on a mast. “What the—” Kiyo’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp and alert. She pushed past Ayden, leaning further over the railing.

“We’re not moving,” Ayden muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. She stomped her boot against the deck as if to test her footing. “The ice…”

“The ship is trapped,” Whitt said, her voice low, but the weight of the words felt like a scream in the silence.

The dice game broke apart as sailors scrambled to assess the situation. Toki stood, brushing frost from her knees. “Trapped? By what? A frozen ocean?”

“Yes?” Kiyo replied, gesturing to the expanding bed of ice around them. The ship, once gliding steadily, now sat like a prisoner in a crystalline cage. “The ice has gotten too thick for the ship to break through. Look.” Whitt joined them at the edge, her stomach twisting at the sight. Ice stretched out in every direction, jagged and unrelenting, locking the ship in place like the fangs of some great beast.

“Brilliant,” Ayden muttered, dragging a hand through her tangled hair. “So much for smooth sailing.”

“Let’s not panic,” Whitt said, more to herself than anyone else. She turned to Toki, who had already started rummaging through her satchel. “Do you have anything useful? Ropes? Picks? Anything?”

“Relax,” Toki replied, “We’ve dealt with worse.”

“Have we?” Ayden shot back, her brow furrowed.

Kiyo held up a hand to silence them, Pip landing comically on the side of her head and scrambling for his balance. Kiyo swept him onto her shoulder instead as she spoke, “Enough. We need a plan. The stones aren’t going to fetch themselves, and freezing to death isn’t an option.” She turned to the sailors, who were huddled together, murmuring nervously. “How long until the ice might crack?”

One of the older sailors, a bearded man with a face weathered by years of harsh seas, stepped forward. “Hours? Days? Hard to say. The winds are freezing fast, but if the sun holds, it might weaken the ice by morning.”

“We don’t have until morning,” Whitt said, glancing toward the island. “We’re close enough to see it. There has to be a way off this boat.”

“And what then?” Ayden asked, folding her arms. “Walk on that?” She gestured to the uneven ice below.

“If we don’t try, we don’t get the stones. And if we don’t get the stones…” Whitt trailed off, the unspoken consequence hanging heavy in the air.

Kiyo nodded grimly. “We’ll split up. Toki, Ayden, see if there’s a way to reinforce the hull in case the ice shifts and crushes us. Whitt and I will see if we can rig something to cross the ice—ropes, planks, anything we’ve got on board. We leave for the island as soon as we can.”