[SOW] Chapter Four, Part Three: Shattering the Ice

Chapter Four, Part Two: [SOW] Chapter Four, Part Two: Revenge for the Coinless

Kerrick stumbled onto the infirmary bed beside Vandruss who held a lit cigar in his hand. The stone faced man waved a nearby attendant to Kerricks side. While she got to work on removing his armor, Vandruss spoke softly.

“Kerrick Snow, you’ve been at the forefront of my mind since I heard about the dragon attack.”

The nurse unclipped the leather buckles at his side and slipped the armor over his head with ease, pulling aside his undershirt to reveal a deep gash penetrating his ribs.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but found his lungs short of air.

“I hadn’t wagered the studious graduate from the academy to be such a troublemaker.” Vandruss continued. “There is a uniqueness in you, boy, I haven’t quite put my finger on yet.”

Kerrick coughed as the nurse place an ice cold paste on his skin and rubbed it across the wound. His skin prickled.

“I wanted to speak with you, privately. However, we will be entertaining an audience as your behavior has resulted in once again, an unsatisfactory outcome.”

“But…” Kerrick tried to interrupt, but pain shot through him as the nurse plunged her thumb into the wound, pushing the paste into it.

Instead, he screamed.

The General didn’t mind his sudden outburst, and continued speaking as though nothing had happened.

“I spoke with some of the other soldiers about the events on the Ridge and wanted to give you a chance to…” He let his voice trail, as if to build tension.

The nurse continued to root around in his side with her thumb and each twitch sent screaming shoots of agony through his body. He gritted his teeth and locked eyes with the General.

“… I’d like to talk to you about the first attack. That which spawned your accusations of Huntmaster Klauven. In the forest, you suggested the Hunter behaved differently upon the aftermath of the dragon attack, citing the manner by which your party was split based on who came to assist him and who stayed behind, correct?”

Kerrick nodded. The nurse withdrew her thumb finally, and turned to fetch a bandage. The pulsating wound echoed through his chest with each shallow breath he took.

“What is this?” He nodded to his side, asking about the salve.

“It’s a medicinal balm. Don’t bother with it, this young lady has been in service at Icehold for decades. You will be fit for operation in minutes.” Vandruss took a long drag from his cigar, filling the room with the scent of burning Greenleaf.

The nurse who, despite Vandruss’ description, was anything but young returned with a strip of linen bandage in her hand. She went to work quickly, wrapping it around his torso while the General continued.

“Private Snow, I would like you to confirm what I’ve repeated, that I understand the situation as you presented it to me on the ride back to the city.”

He nodded. The nurse wrenched the bandage tight around his chest and continued her work silently.

“Good, because I spoke with some of your companions while you were being shown around the prison and to your great benefit, a number of them felt the same way. Next, I would like to ask about the filter we requested your platoon to install. While you were there on patrol, another of your companions informed me that you spotted a second dragon on the peaks but didn’t tell anyone.”

Kerrick winced as the nurse tied the linen strap to his side and handed him a new shirt, a bit bigger than his previous one which he worked to slip into quickly.

“Yes sir.” He mumbled, the sharp pain of the wound began to dull as he sat up.

“Stop it boy.” The nurse called, returning to his side with a small glove on, fitted with golden sockets and tipped with silver. The cloth of the glove was stained, yellow and brown. She placed it to his side and shoved him back onto the bed with more force than he thought she’d be capable of having. “We aren’t finished yet.” She continued, pressing the palm of her gloved hand over the wound, under his shirt.

“What was your reason for keeping that information to yourself, again?”

“I didn’t want to alarm.” He spat the words out as the nurse spoke quietly under her breath, mumbling to herself. The palm of her hand grew warm, unnaturally so. As it did, the pain of his wound began to recede.

“I see.” Vandruss puffed on his cigar from his seat atop the bed nearest them. “So, when you returned to the barracks, and were separated from the group, you found yourself split once more in an unfavorable way, insinuating that Klauven was intentionally trying to get members of the force killed. Is this correct?”

Kerrick raced around the questions.

“What is Vandruss getting at?”

He nodded. There was little sense in lying to the man.

The nurse patted his side and grinned at him. “All finished, boy. You are free to leave when the General is finished with you.”

Kerrick pulled his shirt up, shocked to find the pain from the wound completely gone. He looked around the room, not searching for anything in particular, and saw at the bedside table the small potted plant which had been in the midst of its winter bloom when he’d first entered had suddenly withered away. Dry flower petals scattered along the bedside counter.

The nurse stepped close to Vandruss and put a hand on his chest. “You’ll be needing anything else from me today, dear?” She pecked his cheek and the General, in a seldom show of gentleness, smiled.

“No, Mirja, that will be all. Thank you.”

The nurse stepped away from them to the other side of the long room, humming to herself as she went.

“What did she do to me?” Kerrick asked, bewildered.

“She tended to your wounds, as a nurse is supposed to do.” Vandruss replied, “You will feel some pain tomorrow but in a day or two you will be back to normal. Try not to dwell on it.”

He glanced back at the nurse, who carried her glove with her. Its similarities to the one described by the guard screaming in his mind.

“What is going on, General?” He asked, eyes still following the woman’s hand.

“I should ask you the same thing, Windvar.”

His blood ran cold.

“He knew.”

Kerrick whipped to face the General. “How did you—“

“I have ears everywhere, Snow. It is not difficult to identify the Contract Holders, even if you’ve been removed from your seat.”

His heart raced. If Vandruss knew, who else did?”

“I don’t understand.” He started. 

“What I don’t understand is why a Windvar of all people would willingly sign up for military duty. With how outspoken your house has been about the military presence in Athella, I am surprised to find you here at all.”

Kerrick swallowed hard.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure all things are complicated, to one degree or another. So, Kerrick Snow, why are you here?”

A bead of sweat rolled down his back, the General stared down at him and Kerrick realized he couldn’t talk his way out of the General’s accusation.

“After the merger, my family had nothing. They lost their title, their estate, and nearly all of their income. There were rumors, however, about who struck the contract to absorb the ailing Companies. It was the Thane. He saw to it that my family was robbed of their status, their lifestyle, nearly everything we owned was robbed from us overnight. The military was the only place I could go to provide for them.”

General Vandruss listened quietly, absorbing his words for a moment.

“It is a shame, the merger. I know a lot of good families were put out by it.” The General stood, tossing the butt of his cigar onto the floor of the infirmary. He stomped it out and approached.

“It is important, as I’m sure you are aware, that this remains between us.” The General placed a hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate your honesty, but I would not take the opportunity to be honest about this with anyone else. Except perhaps, for Private Sardra.”

Kerrick blushed.

“With the unrest in the city due to the recent dragon attacks, it is best to avoid causing further disruption.” Vandruss continued. “I will keep your secret, Private. However, I do have one more thing to discuss with you.”

Kerrick met the General’s eyes, his mind whirling with possibilities about what else he could have known, when a sharp shrieking sound ruptured their air between them.

A trumpet sounded, crashing through the walls as hundreds more ignited into a cacophony of squealing notes. Outside the infirmary, the sound of guards shouting and marching escalated immediately.

“An alarm.” Vandruss mentioned, whipping around to face the door as a guard burst into the Infirmary.

“General, there has been a breach in Row Five.”

Vandruss whipped his sword from its sheathe and marched forward. “Details, now.” He gestured at Kerrick. “Get your plate back on and find Captain Fane.  It’s happening.”

Kerrick’s heart pounded.

It’s happening.

He spun to the other side of the bed and hefted his breastplate over him, letting it fall on his shoulders as his eyes passed over the wilted flower, and briefly, he shot a glance to the other side of the infirmary where the nurse was busy collecting her vials and herbs into a large wooden chest. The glove no longer on her hand.

He tugged the strap tight and cinched it before he followed the guard and his General back to the prison.

By the time he’d reached the door, Vandruss was long gone likely off with the guard to confront the jailbreak head on. All around him in the barracks, off shift guards donned their armor and clamored around one another for weapons and shields. He ducked and weaved through the mess of bodies, intent on following orders.

Through the barracks and into the kitchen it was much the same. Soldiers abandoned their meals half finished and rushed toward the Rows, searching for Fane. 

Kerrick arrived at the Captain’s office to find it ajar. He peered into the room to see no one there. The office had been untouched since the last time he’d seen Fane, and spun on his heel. 

“If there was no Captain Fane to report to, he would likely already be at the sit of the break in.” Kerrick thought, before jogging to catch up with the growing train of guards pouring into the courtyard.

The sound of fighting on the other side of the prison was muted, distant clangs of swords and screams intermingled with the occasional sound of cell doors rolling open. All of it as though it were coming from the other side of the ridge lake. Kerrick followed in line, his hand on his sword as the guards poured through the kitchen and out to the main access hall. He paused, briefly, as a senior officer directed them down different paths to apprehend each of the six rows. 

Kerrick turned before he reached the point of direction and sprinted off to the opposite side of the hall, into the Nail Ward.

He realized immediately none of the other guards from the crowd followed him as he crashed through the double doors, drawing his weapon. Inside the Nail Ward, it was calm. The door leading to the dragon witch remained locked, and as he passed by it her voice carried through the thick wood.

“What’s happening out there?”

He didn’t answer her, and moved to the next door, testing it to find that it too, was locked. The old man inside didn’t speak as he passed to the final room where the ex-Icehold guard McEarry was held.

Kerrick rounded the corner, into the open room and found McEarry there, hanging limp on the manacles, the pins inside the room dug into his pallid skin. Kerrick took a step into the room before he noticed the ear to ear slash on the man’s throat. His shirt was covered in blood which pooled beneath him around the base of the pins.

“No,” Kerrick whispered. Turning out of the room, he raced back to the main hall toward row five.

Guards still shambled through the main halls despite the urgency of the attack, and as he took his place in line down the main access halls their movement slowed to a crawl. Ahead of them, men and women shouted. Bolts from crossbows sailed and plinked off of the stone in the rows ahead of them and Kerrick grew frustrated.

“Are we waiting to be overrun?” He thought.

He stretched, standing on the balls of his feet to look over the crowd where he saw a collection of officers guiding guards into the cell rows, one at a time.

He gripped his sword and shoved it back into it’s sheathe, tired of waiting.

Ducking down he pushed through the guards, many of whom swore and chided him as he made his way through the clamoring crowd. As he emerged at the front of the line, the officer presiding over Row One shot him a glare and he gritted his teeth, shoving past the man.

The officer whirled around and shouted at him as he sprinted past, glancing through the doors which led to Row One, revealing the purpose for the slow trickle. One guard at a time entered the prison and stationed themselves a few steps apart, preparing for the cell doors to open.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” He mused, breaking through into the next crowd of slow moving guards waiting for Row Three. “Unless…”

He made his way through the second crowd and emerged, the officer raised a hand.

“Where do you think you’re going, private?” 

Kerrick spat his response.

“I’m on General Vandruss’ orders, I suggest you let me by.”

The officer quickly lowered his hand and continued waving guards into the room.

“They aren’t waiting for a physical jailbreak.” Kerrick thought as he came upon the final wing of the hall, where Row Five was located. There, the hall was nearly empty, with only a handful of guards rushing through from the courtyard and no officer guiding new forces into the Row. Within, guards screamed. He sprinted, withdrawing his sword once more and ducked past a pair of guards standing in horror just outside the doorway.

“They’re waiting for a witch.” 

He stepped into Row Five and felt a hand on his chest, Captain Fane held him back, his eyes locked on the sight at the end of the hall. Kerrick followed the gaze of his Captain to the far side of Row Five, where dust was still settling. The bodies of twenty guards lay flayed and sliced apart on the floor of the prison. All around their bodies scattered pools of collecting water, the edges of the hole in the wall still frozen. In the center of the carnage stood a woman. Her skin was tan, her hair draped behind her, nearly touching the top of her thighs. Her body was covered with splattered blood and her eyes…

Kerrick stared at the woman’s eyes, pale and blue with white irises.

“The more you send to me, the more of you die.” She spoke, her voice frigid. Fog rolled from her lips with each word. The woman took a step forward, and the pair of guards near Captain Fane and Kerrick, the only ones who remained in the row, ran.

The woman raised a hand, wrapped in an intricate gauntlet. It looked heavy enough to have been armor, but the design and detail taken to the metalwork implied it was a fashionable piece, rather than a protective one. The hollow gauntlet wrapped around her fingers, decorating in strange swirling filigree. The tips of the fingers pointed, razor sharp.

“Kerrick, stand down.” Fane whispered. “You will get yourself killed.”

The woman took another step forward, emerging through the shroud of mist and dust which concealed her, and Kerrick saw her face.

“The arson,” His mind buzzed, recollecting the same woman months prior, fleeing from House Tilliak where she and her companions had set a fire which destroyed much of the neighborhood. Then, she had no gauntlet, then, she was merely a woman. 

Kerrick took a step forward, his hand on his sword.

“You don’t need to do this.” He called. Captain Fane reached out and took him by the shoulder.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” The Captain shouted.

“Who are you?” The woman replied, resting her elbow on a tucked arm, her tongue brushed the front of her teeth. “If you are so eager to die, then be my guest.”

Kerrick swallowed hard. “Whatever was taken, whatever you want, we will give it to you.”

The woman clicked her tongue. “Oh, I’m not certain of that.” 

From the palm of her outstretched hand, water slowly began to collect and drip onto the floor. Behind her, through the opening, guards crept with crossbows raised.

Fane tightened his grip.

“You murdered Lord Tilliak’s children for a reason, didn’t you?” He called. His spine crawled against his back, as if his bones themselves wanted to get away from the woman.

The temperature of the room began to fall.

“I killed no child.” She fired back. “That is you, and your kind. Need I remind you of The Camps? The Work Houses? The winter of Godspine which robs us all of safety for months at a time?”

Her voice raised as she spoke, and Kerrick stood his ground. 

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” He replied, the vision of McEarry’s dead body seared into his mind’s eye. “Your informant was killed.”

“Good, I hope he finds some rest.”

She raised the gauntlet, and the streams of water which trailed from her fingertips halted in place. Kerrick stared in shock, and then in disbelief when they began to move.

Like snakes, preparing to strike, the streams of clear water pouring from the woman’s gauntlet rose and stretched, ceiling against the air in a manner unlike anything he’d ever seen. Behind her, the guards aimed their shots.

Captain Fane took a step forward, shoving Kerrick behind him.

“The boy might have a soft side, but I don’t, witch.” He raised his sword. “You cannot kill all of us.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, can’t I?”

Behind her, the guards released a volley of bolts, each of them trained on her back. Kerrick wanted to close his eyes, free himself from the sight of her body soon to be stuck like a pincushion, but his jaw fell in horror as a massive wall of water erupted from behind her, freezing immediately, capturing the arrows in the sudden wave.

The woman waved the gauntlet as the wall of ice thawed instantaneously, and whipped around her, carrying the bolts in a great arc before it lost its form, splashing down to the floor of the prison but not before it released the bolts, sending a hail of arrow fire down the prison row.

Kerrick ducked, sprinting back to the safety of the door as the arrows slammed into their targets with blistering speed and accuracy. Both of the guards fell, arrows piercing the plate metal on their chest. 

Captain Fane stumbled back, releasing his sword as he fell onto his back. His body littered with loose bolts, some of which had punched through the steel of his armor. Others, embedded into his face and neck where he wore no helmet.

Kerrick felt a sting of pain from his shoulder, where a bolt had sliced through his own shoulder plate and into his flesh. He shuffled out of Row Five and into the hall as the woman turned her back on them, facing the guards who approached from behind. Most of whom were frozen in place, in disbelief.

“Such a shame, I had hoped this would be less… destructive.”

She summoned once more the massive wall of water and sent it rocketing out to the guards, crashing into them with the force of a waterfall as they scattered out into the edges of the courtyard. Some of them flew further, out into the streets of Godspine.

The woman kept her gauntlet raised as the tendrils of coalescing water stretched out to the cells, filling the space of the locking mechanism before they froze and snapped off inside.

“Turn your unjust imprisonment into a rebellion, sons of Godspine.” She called. 

In unison, the prison doors opened.

From the Row Three door, an officer called to fall back and Kerrick obeyed. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted with the straggling guards away from Row Five, uniting with the officer as the woman emerged from the Row, free prisoners in tow.

The guards prepared for the onslaught as the wave of vagrants crashed into them. One caught Kerrick in a tackle, sending him rolling to the ground as the man slammed his fist into his jaw.

He caught the prisoner’s hand, pulling it to the side and using the momentum he kicked back and flipped the prisoner over him, a scrawny, unshaven man. Kerrick got to his feet and raised his arms as guards collided with the prisoners all around them. From the corner of his eye, he watched the woman pass into the courtyard.

The prisoner lunged for his sword and he side-stepped, driving his elbow down onto the man’s back.

“I won’t kill you.” He shouted, as a guard behind him drove his own sword into a prisoner’s abdomen.

“Then you’ll kill yourself.” The man shouted.

Kerrick jumped back, ducking beneath a nearby guard’s swing with a club. The head of the club crashed into another prisoner, crumpling their arm under the strike as the one beneath Kerrick rolled onto his back and wrapped himself around Kerrick’s leg.

From behind, a force slammed into him, knocking him down over the prisoner. A much larger, second prisoner turned his attention to Kerrick as he rolled, no longer trapped by the first.

“Don’t make me do this, you don’t have to die.”

The prisoners stood, and launched themselves toward him.

“Yes they do.” Veihn’s voice echoed from behind him as she swung down with her sword, catching the larger of two prisoners under the edge, rending open his shoulder.

“No!” Kerrick shouted, kicking the first prisoner in the abdomen, sending him stumbling backward. Another guard stabbed another prisoner nearby him and the man’s body fell to the ground. The limp hand of the prisoner fell onto the stone, severed by another strike, and Kerrick caught the glint of the man’s wedding ring.

Viehn lunged forward, her blade whipping through the air down onto the prisoner’s other shoulder. A cackle erupted from her throat as she caught the man in his opposite corner, drawing it out to slice through his second arm.

The prisoner opposite Veihn began to weep, both of his shoulders sliced deep.

“I can’t move my arms!” He wailed, falling to his knees.

“You should have remained in your cage!” Veihn screamed, swinging her sword across the man’s throat, slicing his head from his neck.

The severed head plopped on the ground beside them and rolled, and Kerrick reached out to catch the woman’s sword with his own gauntlet.

“You are enjoying this.” He spat.

“Aren’t you?” She pulled the sword from his grip and spun behind him, dancing through the crowded hall, slicing through prisoner after prisoner as more began to emerge from the Rows.

The West Wing of Icehold was being overrun as Veihn danced, slaughtering prisoners one after another as she cackled with glee.

Kerrick put a foot on the hand of the thin prisoner, left alive miraculously from his companions hail of blades. The man wept on the ground.

“He was my friend. He had children.”

Kerrick knelt to the man, placing his knee on the man’s other hand. 

“I’m sorry, but you attacked us. What did you expect to happen?”

The prisoner spat. “I expected that miserable witch to help us do something.”

“She isn’t here for you.” He replied, and caught Veihn’s return through the crowd, the woman dancing back and forth between prisoner and guard alike. She stepped between two of them, fighting over a spear. The prisoner clearly winning, and the guard in the battle Kerrick recognized as the one who escorted her to Row Five. She ducked beneath them and grabbed the spear in her hands, helping the prisoner shove it into the man’s side before she spun and sliced the prisoner’s back, tearing a strap of flesh from his body before she returned to him.

The chaos dulled behind them as she paused above him, her blade soaked in blood.

“Are you serious, Snow?” She grinned. “You can kill any of them you want, they don’t matter.”

She shoved her blade down into the crying man’s back. He sputtered, coughing on the prison floor. 

“Veihn…” Kerrick swallowed hard.

He stood, shoving off of the ground, and slammed his fist into her jaw, sending the woman reeling backward. “These are people!” He shouted, charging her. His movement fueled by anger, he caught Veihn by the gambesson and dragged her back to him, meeting his gauntlet to her cheek a second time. 

From somewhere deep within him, a scream emerged as he swung his companion’s body around, out fo the fight and cast her down the sparse side of the hall. She stumbled, crashing onto the stone as he screamed and pounced on her, slamming his fist into her cheek until she didn’t respond.

Blood covered his knuckles and his heart skipped a beat. Behind him, a guard shouted at him from the midst of the chaos. 

“No,” He whispered, and slipped his hand from the gauntlet. He pressed his fingers to her neck and begged to feel something.

“By Maltha’s grace…” He whispered.

She was breathing.

He slipped his hand back into his gauntlet and grabbed her, dragging her away from the fighting as the prisoner she stabbed coughed out blood on the floor. He pulled her into Row Six and shoved her into a cell, wedging the door shut with a piece of stone in lieu of a key, he turned his attention back to his orders.

A second round of trumpets blasted through the prison. Kerrick summoned his strength and returned to the hall, where the guards who remained continued their fight, cuffing prisoners that they could and slaughtering those they couldn’t. Kerrick’s stomach churned, looking at the bodies of the men who attacked him. 

A guard turned to face him, while dragging a body out of the mess.

“Go check the East Wing! They will need help!”

Kerrick nodded and stepped out into the courtyard, his sword bouncing at his hip as he stepped across the snow covered field. 

“The East Wing is going to be the same.” He thought aloud. “No one wanted to go to the Nail Ward.” 

He veered to the north. If no one was at the Nail Ward, that meant the woman would walk in and out and there was nothing they could do to stop the witch from freeing another, potentially worse witch.

He broke into a sprint, hoping he wasn’t too late.

Kerrick crashed through the north gate of Icehold, and saw carnage the same there as that which filled the West Wing. Bodies strewn across the prison system, guards and prisoners alike tossed against walls and kicked out of the way where others fought.

He pushed past a group, rushing a wounded guard to the infirmary while the clang of blades bouncing off of armor echoed through the hall. He spun, ignoring everything else and moved straight to the Nail Ward.

The door hung ajar, and as he pushed himself into the room he met a pair of figures, one of whom he didn’t recognize. 

It was a tall man, taller than any he’d seen before. Though, to call him a “man” wouldn’t have been entirely correct. The figure was more like a tree than anything else, his body covered in bark, parts of him growing moss. Other parts carved delicately as if to imitate tattoos. He’d heard of a people whose appearance mimicked that of trees, but never seen one in real life.

The man towered over him by three or four heads, and beside him stood the tan woman with the gauntlet. They stood each before a different door, the woman before that of the old man’s and the barkskin before that of the witch.

“Stop.” Kerrick called, before he was able to prevent it. The bark skinned man turned to face him.

“What is this, little one?”

The woman groaned. Her skin began to freeze since last he’d seen her, around the base of the gauntlet a thin layer of ice formed.

“One of the guards.” She quipped. “Though,” She turned to face him. “He does know me. I am not sure why.”

“After today,” The large man replied. “I am not uncertain the whole Athella will know us.”

“You can’t do what you are about to do. Take everyone else, but do not take them. You don’t know what they are capable of.”

The barkskin raised a bushy eyebrow. “Do I not?”

Kerrick raised his hands. “I mean no harm, but that girl…” He breathed out, carefully, slowly, making himself look as peaceful as he could. “She is a witch, bonded with a dragon. She is capable of things you’ve never seen.”

The bark skinned man reared his head back in a laugh, deep and profound.

“Oh, that is no witch little sap. That is a frightened girl.” The man opened the door to let her out before he turned back to Kerrick.

“I do not wish to harm you, little sap. Do not make that a choice I must make.”

Kerrick stared, hopeless in the face of the freed prisoners, the woman held within the cell emerged with gentle steps, looking back and forth between her saviors. Her long wavy blonde hair a mess behind her. She took a quick glance at him, flashing a short smile.

“This is the witch.”

Kerrick looked, shocked to finally see the face of the woman Fane and so many had warned him about. She looked nothing like they’d made her out to be. She was his height, a season or two younger than he was, and did not appear to be the destructive violent force which Fane was so afraid of.

“Go back to your General.” The older woman said. The older prisoner emerged from his cell, hobbling on legs which were covered in deep scars. “Tell him you tried to stop us, but were unable to. Tell him I spared you. Tell him whatever you want.” She paused, the light in her eyes dimmed and her back hunched, only slightly.

“Tell him I’m sorry.”

The light flared in her eyes once more and she stood up straight, wrapping her arm forcefully around the old man. 

“Tell your commander I will not stop, until my people are free.”

Kerrick stared at the woman, who for a moment long enough to say a few words, seemed as though she was someone entirely different than the one who had minutes before, slaughtered the Icehold Guards and released the prison to chaos.

He swallowed hard.

“Do you understand?” She asked.

He did.

Thank you for reading Sisters of Westwinter, Chapter Four is nearing its end! Only one more episode left. Make sure to come back next week to see the conclusion and find out what happens to Emry after she’s been granted newfound freedom!

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One Reply to “[SOW] Chapter Four, Part Three: Shattering the Ice”

  1. […] Chapter Four, Part Three: [SOW] Chapter Four, Part Three: Shattering the Ice […]


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