[Chr24] Frozen Waters

The frost-bound journey seemed endless, the vast waters stretching to meet the clear blue sky. Aviary sat cross-legged near the prow of the boat, his hands burrowed deep in the tattered pockets of his coat. Frost had gathered on the edges of his sleeves, and his breath escaped in wisps of silver vapor that curled and vanished into the frigid air. Above him, the stars shimmered with an eerie clarity, their icy radiance reflecting in his wide, wondering eyes. “Do you think we’ll see one? A Glacial Twiwa?” he asked, his voice brimming with youthful hope.

Lyric, lounging against the mast, spared him a glance, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance. His fingers danced over the dials of his camera, the faint clicks of adjustment punctuating the rhythm of the boat slicing through crystalline waves. “You and your birds,” he muttered, snapping a photo of the sunlight fracturing across the ice. At his feet, Snaps—the gingerbread shoon with fur like spun caramel—was curled in a tight ball atop his little cloud, his tail flicking faintly as he endured the cold with stoic resolve. “We’re here for the Rohaara stones, not some overgrown pigeon.”

“They’re not pigeons,” Aviary snapped, pulling his journal close to his chest as though it were a shield. His cheeks flushed against the cold. “Glacial Tiwawas can weigh between fourteen and eighteen pounds! They’re majestic hunters, they're know for—”

“Dinner potential?” Lyric cut in, smirking.

Darkk stood apart from them, a figure shrouded in stillness and shadow. His blackened cloak billowed faintly in the night breeze, and his hood obscured all but the faintest glint of his eyes. He watched them from his place at the boat’s edge, where the frost-painted railings creaked under the shifting weight of ice. Darkk didn’t speak, didn’t react to Aviary’s protest or Lyric’s teasing. He rarely did.

At the helm, Anubis was relaxed and composed, his hands steady on the wheel. His keen gaze was fixed on the horizon, “Focus on the mission,” he said, his deep voice steady, but edged with authority. “We’ll deal with creatures after we secure the stones.”

Lyric chuckled dryly, raising his camera to snap another shot of the ethereal lights. “Did you know Glacial Twiwa's make terrible pets? They bite. A lot.” His tone was half-serious, half-taunting, but Aviary either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He clutched his journal tighter and opened his mouth to reply when the boat gave a sudden, violent lurch.

The deck tilted sharply, sending Aviary sprawling against the railing with a startled yelp. Lyric clung to the mast, his camera swaying dangerously in his grip. “What the hell was that?” he barked, his gaze darting over the icy water, searching for the source of the disturbance.

The answer came not in sound but in silence. The steady lap of waves against the hull had ceased entirely, replaced by an unnatural stillness. Anubis was the first to move, his feet crunching against the frost-rimed planks of the boat as he left the helm and strode toward the edge. He peered over the side, his sharp eyes scanning the frozen expanse below.

Darkk knelt silently beside him, his hand brushing the ice-coated rail. His movements were deliberate, precise, and filled with an intensity that made the others uneasy. “The water’s frozen solid,” he said at last, his voice low and toneless. “We’re trapped.”

Aviary’s voice quivered. “What do we do now?”

Anubis straightened, his broad shoulders radiating a calm authority that steadied them even as unease prickled at the edges of their thoughts. “We free the boat. Darkk, you’re with me. Lyric, Aviary—head out on foot. Find out how far this ice stretches and if there’s a clear path forward. Be quick.”

Aviary hesitated, his hand tightening on his journal as he looked out at the desolate expanse. Lyric clapped him on the shoulder, grinning with a cheer he didn’t quite feel. “Come on, bird boy. Let’s see how bad it really is.”