Chapter 3: Control for Once

She dreamed of home.

Snow drifted through the air, settling over the familiar rooftops of Aelyn’s Rest. The sky above was that soft grey of early morning, just before the frost thickened. Vaelira stood in the center of the village, wrapped in her old cloak, watching the world move around her like she didn't belong in it anymore.

Lyraena was there - her sister, silvery hair pulled back tight. She stood by the training field, arms crossed.

"You shouldn't have stolen it," Lyraena said quietly.

Vaelira opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. Somehow, it didn't feel like her sister was angry—just tired.

"You always make things harder than they have to be," Lyraena continued, glancing away. "But..."

She stepped forward, a flicker in her eyes.

"You always find a way to make them work. Even if it's the worst possible way."

Vaelira blinked. For a moment, Lyraena almost smiled.

Then the snow rose and swallowed her whole, just as she reached for her sister.

—

Vaelira opened her eyes, heart pounding. The camp was quiet, save for the soft crackle of fire that was nearly out and the slow hush of falling snow.

"You're awake," Edrin said nearby, crouched low beside a cluster of prints in the frost. "We've got something."

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, rising to her feet. "Rabbit?"

Edrin shook his head. "Boot prints. A lot of them. Too careful to be hunters."

He frowned, brushing snow from one deeper track. "They must’ve passed close during the night."

He stood, looking between trees. "Looks like we were lucky. They didn’t see our camp."

She stepped closer, looking over his shoulder.

"Hm? The ones we're after?"

"Looks like it. You alright? You've got sweat on your face."

She stiffened. Her eyes widened at the comment. She didn't want to speak of it yet. She shrugged it off.

"Just slept too close to the fire. Nothing important."

Edrin didn't press further. He just gave her a look, then turned back to the tracks and began moving. Vaelira followed, tightening grip on her staff as they stepped deeper into the forest. A bird called out somewhere above — short, sharp, then quiet again. The prints led between snow-laced trees, winding a cautious path. They moved slow, careful not to crunch too loudly over the forest.

"How far do you think they are?" she asked quietly.

"Could be close," Edrin whispered. "Could be watching right now."

Vaelira blinked. "You're just saying that to mess with me."

His smirk was the only answer.

They moved slowly, the forest growing quieter with each step. Even the birds had stopped. The deeper they went, the heavier the silence became, broken only by the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet.

Edrin raised a hand, signaling her to stop. He crouched, motioning toward a disturbed patch of snow near a fallen tree. Boot prints. Multiple. Close together, like people standing in a place.

"They stopped here," he whispered. "Maybe scouting, or resting."

Vaelira knelt beside him, trying to make sense of the marks. She wasn't used to this kind of reading—magic was easier. But even she could tell: someone had stood here a while. And not long ago.

"Are we close?" she whispered.

Edrin gave a nod. "Close enough to smell their fire if the wind shifts."

They pressed on, steps even slower now. The trees thickened ahead, narrowing into a tighter cluster. Beyond, faint voices floated on the air—muffled and indistinct.

Edrin paused, eyes narrowing. He tilted his head, listening.

"Do you hear that?" Vaelira whispered, heartbeat starting to pound.

"Voices. At least four. Possibly more."

She looked over at him. Honestly? He was better at this than she expected. But questions could wait.

They moved closer, crouching behind a snow-covered ridge. Through the branches, just past a clearing, they saw it: a small camp—tents, supplies stacked near a fire, two men seated beside it. Laughing quietly.

More shapes moved beyond them between the tents.

Edrin's tone turned sharp but low. "We count before we strike. We don't rush this."

Vaelira’s breath caught in her throat. This was it. No illusions. No practice. Just danger, waiting.

Edrin leaned in slightly. "Five I can see. Might be more inside the tents."

Vaelira nodded, a cold gust stirred the trees above them. But the poachers didn't seem to notice.

Then—movement. A rough canvas covering near the edge of the camp shifted. Beneath it, a crude wooden cage. Someone inside stirred weakly, too bundled to see clearly.

"Someone's alive..." Vaelira whispered.

"Yeah," Edrin muttered. "We'll need to draw some of them out. Thin the camp. Can you do that?"

She nodded before she even thought "Yeah, I can do it. Just say when."

Edrin studied the camp one more time, then gave a short nod. "Now. Aim for something away from the fire—loud enough to pull them, but not too close."

Vaelira shifted her weight, took a deep breath, then raised her staff. Cold energy sparked at her fingertips, but rather than casting directly, she guided the magic into her staff. The runes along its shaft shimmered faintly, focusing the spell like a lens. At its tip, the energy swirled tighter—controlled, precise. A few trees away from the camp, the snow cracked sharply as ice suddenly formed across a branch. It snapped under the weight with a sharp crack, echoing through the still woods.

Voices rose.

"What was that?"

"You hear that?"

Two of the men stood. They grabbed their weapons and moved toward the sound. A third lingered for a moment, muttering something under his breath, then followed with a scowl.

Edrin's eyes stayed on the camp. "Three gone. Two left by the fire."

Vaelira let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding. "Did it work?"

"It worked. Let's move."

They moved like shadows, keeping low as they circled around the edge of the clearing. Edrin led the way, barely making a sound. His eyes flicked between the remaining two guards and the tents beyond. When they were close enough, he held up a hand, signaling Vaelira to stop.

One of the poachers had turned his back to the campfire, stretching and yawning. That was all the opening Edrin needed. He moved swiftly—just a few steps—then struck. A clean motion. The man crumpled without a sound, caught before he could even realize what happened.

Vaelira's eyes widened. That was fast.

The second guard stood a bit farther off, arms crossed, watching the woods. Closer to her. Too close.

Edrin glanced at Vaelira, giving her a small nod.

She tensed. Okay, she thought, You can do this... Quiet spell. Quick. Controlled.

A step forward—too fast. The snow gave slightly under her foot. The poacher turned.

"Who—"

Panic surged. Vaelira muttered a quick incantation, and frost spiraled around her staff. Ice shot out in a controlled burst, slamming into the poacher's legs. He stumbled, snarled, tried to shout—but a second blast caught him in the chest, freezing him to the ground.

She stood there, blinking.

Edrin raised an eyebrow from across the camp. "Subtle."

"I pan— I mean, I had it under control!" She hissed back.

He smirked, already moving toward the cage. "Still worked."

Edrin knelt by the cage, inspecting the crude lock. Inside, four figures stirred—bundled in furs, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

"Hunters. They're alive, just weak."

Vaelira stepped closer, keeping an eye on the woods. Her heart still raced from the spell. "Can we break the lock?"

"Not quietly. I'll pick it. Won't take long."

But he didn't get a chance. A voice shouted from the trees.

"What the hell—!?"

The three missing poachers had returned—too early. One pointed, eyes wide. "We've got company!"

Edrin cursed, rising fast, bow already in hand. "We hold here."

Vaelira stepped back, then nodded confidently. "Big spell?"

"What do you mea—nevermind. Big spell, yes!"

The poachers rushed forward. Through the snow, weapons drawn. Vaelira stepped into their path, planting her feet.

"Cover me!" she shouted.

Edrin didn't answer—he didn't need to. He was already loosing an arrow, the sharp twang of his bow slicing through the chaos. One of the poachers staggered but kept coming.

Vaelira raised her staff.

She could feel the cold already there, waiting—curling around her fingers like a mist. But this time, she didn't try to force it into neat little shapes. She didn't focus on being perfect. She just let it come.

Power surged through her hands, raw and sharp. The runes on her staff lighted to life, ice-blue and humming with energy. Frost bloomed along the wood, crawling to the tip.

She focused—eyes narrowing.

"Velthira noran kalessar." The words came without thinking, drawn from instinct and training. Her voice shook the air, louder than it had ever been.

The snow at her feet rose in a flurry. A blast of ice erupted outward—fast, wide, unstoppable.

The poachers were caught mid-step. One was thrown off his feet, crashing into a tree. Another froze mid-lunge, his legs coated in frost, the ground beneath him glazed in a sheet of slippery ice. The third stumbled, slipped, and slammed hard into the snow.

Silence fell—brief, stunned.

Even Edrin stared for a second.

Vaelira stood there, panting, heart hammering in her chest. The staff still crackled faintly in her grip, frost clinging to her fingertips. She stared at the aftermath.

That... That actually worked.

The realization struck harder than the spell itself. Not wild, not chaotic—controlled. For once, it had listened to her.

Then. She straightened, cleared her throat, and lifted her chin just a little with a smirk.

"See? Told you I am a great mage!"

Edrin lowered his bow, giving one of the poachers a cautious nudge with his boot.

"Still breathing. Barely."

Vaelira, still catching her breath, looked down at her hands. The frost was already fading from her fingertips, the lingering hum of power slowly slipping away.

"You alright?" Edrin asked, glancing back at her.

"Of course I am! And you were doubting me."

He raised an eyebrow, then let out a soft laugh. "Remind me never to doubt you again."

She smirked, but the glow of pride in her eyes betrayed just how much that meant. Edrin moved back to the cage and knelt by the lock again.

"Let's get these people out before more trouble shows up."

Vaelira watched as he worked the lock open, and one by one, the hunters were freed. They stumbled out, weak and shivering but alive.

"Thank the stars," one of them let out. "We thought we were dead."

"You're safe now," Edrin said, helping one stand. "You'll be back in your village by nightfall."

They bound the unconscious poachers with leftover rope. Vaelira crouched beside the captured poachers, narrowing her eyes as she raised a hand. "Just a little frost to keep them from running..."

A sharp pop cracked through the air.

Ice exploded outward—not dangerously, but enough to freeze her own boot to the snow and scatter a bit of frost across Edrin's back.

He froze. Slowly turned. She cleared her throat.

"...Measured restraint."

"Uh-huh."

"Still counts!"

They made the journey back together—slow, careful, but without trouble. Edrin helped the weakest walk. Vaelira offered her arm when needed, carrying supplies for one of the hunters and helping another steady his steps over the uneven snow.

The poachers trudged behind, wrists bound and grumbling. One of them kept glancing down at his bruised arm, jaw clenched with pain.

Word must have traveled ahead somehow. Maybe the children of the returning hunters had spotted them from afar. Either way, by the time they reached the edge of the village, a crowd was already gathering.

The elder hurried out to meet them, pushing through the gathered crowd. "You found them... By the frost and you even captured the poachers!"

"Heh. Yeah—they won’t be bothering anyone anymore." Edrin said. One of the hunters gave a tired smile.

"Would've frozen in that cage without you two."

Then there were cheers. Light applause. A few villagers rushed to take the poachers, while others offered hot drinks to the duo. The villagers for once, could finally relax. In this moment, even the wind felt a little less cruel.

Someone handed Edrin a small pouch—worn leather and light, but heavy enough to jingle faintly. He weighed in his hand, nodded with quiet thanks.

"Not much," the elder admitted, "but it's what we could gather.”

"It'll cover warm beds and a real meal," Edrin said with a nod. "That's more than enough."

Vaelira stretched her arms overhead with a groan. "I'll take that over freezing my toes off in another tent."

"Didn't you say tents were "perfectly fine for rustic charm?"

"I said that once. In confidence. While freezing."

A pair of children approached Vaelira cautiously, eyes wide. One held out a half-melted snowberry tart.

"We heard you did amazing magic... Here." one of the kids said, almost too quiet to hear.

Vaelira blinked. For a second, she didn’t know what to say. Then she crouched, carefully accepting the tart. "Thanks," she said. "I’ll, uh... try not to explode it."

The kids smiled and ran off as Edrin grinned.

"You've got fans."

"About time!" she declared, but her gaze lingered on the spot where the children had stood—until Edrin poked her.

"Hey, great mage. Let's go to the tavern." She flustered but simply followed him without a word.

The tavern wasn't fancy, but after the cold outside, it felt like a palace.

The fire crackled in the hearth. A stew pot simmered somewhere in the back, filling the air with the smell of herbs and roasted meat. Vaelira sat at a wooden table near the flames, hunched forward with a bowl cradled in her hands. Her cheeks were flushed—not from embarrassment this time, but from actual heat.

"This," she muttered between bites, "might be the best thing I've ever tasted."

Edrin smirked, sipping from his cup. "Better than rabbit?"

"Don't ruin this moment."

"Fair."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, echoes of other villagers low in the background. Some were still whispering about the magic, the fight, the ice—everything they’d heard from the hunters. Vaelira pretended not to notice, but her posture straightened slightly every time someone glanced her way.

Eventually, Edrin leaned back in his chair, stretching. "You know," he said casually, "if you keep pulling off spells like that, people'll start saying you've got Frost's Embrace."

Vaelira paused mid-sip. "Frost's what?"

"Frost's Embrace,." he grinned. "Old mage legend. A spell so strong it could freeze a mountain from the inside out. Total nonsense, obviously."

Her eyes narrowed, curious. "You made that up."

"I didn't!" He held up a hand. "Well, maybe the mountain part. But there is a name like that floating around. Some old wizard tale from the north. Rumors say it lets you master ice itself."

Vaelira leaned back slowly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "...Frost's Embrace, huh?"

Edrin frowned, seeing the expression. "That's not a real goal. Please, don't make that a real goal."

Too late. The gleam in her eyes said everything.

And somehow, Edrin knew this was just the beginning.