The ice was still groaning softly when Ryn sheathed his sword.

Steam rose in wisps from the cracks in the lake where Amelia fell. Speaking of, the same person was using Fritz as a human dryer to dry herself off.

Taylor stood off to the side, arms folded, already looking elsewhere.

Ryn wiped at his eye one last time.

Then he felt it.

From the corner of his vision, he felt movement. Shapes half-hidden behind tents. People who froze the moment he turned his head, then hid as he made eye contact with them.

He didn't call them out.

A small figure broke from the cluster.

She hesitated after only a few steps.

The rabbitfolk girl stood there, ears twitching nervously beneath her hood, hands clasped so tightly around a wooden bowl that her knuckles had gone pale.

She glanced back once, as if checking for permission, then took another step forward.

Instead, he relaxed his posture and stepped away from the lake.

"…Captain," she said softly.

Ryn turned fully toward her.

"Yes?"

Her ears drooped slightly as she swallowed.

"Um… Mama said—" She stopped, shook her head, then tried again. "We made food."

She lifted the bowl just a little, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to offer it.

"It's not much," she added quickly. "But everyone wanted to share."

Behind her, more faces appeared. People pretending not to watch while watching very closely.

Ryn crouched slightly so he wasn't looming over her.

"Thank you," he said. "I'd like that."

Her ears perked up in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yes," he answered. "And you can call me Ryn."

She nodded, then turned back toward the camp, nearly slipping on the ice before catching herself and straightening with a small huff of determination.

Her voice was already rising as she called out the news.

She didn't come back alone.

A group of children followed her: rabbitfolk, deerfolk, horsefolk, all different tribes but carrying the same intent.

Before anyone could react, they reached out.

Hands grabbed at Fritz's sleeves, Amelia's fingers, Taylor's skirt, and Ryn's wrist.

"Come on!"

"This way!"

"There's space!"

They were laughing, tugging insistently, pulling the Gremory Party toward the circle forming around the central campfire.

Amelia shot him a look of surprise, in which Ryn answered with his own shrug.

Nonetheless, he allowed himself to be dragged.

The fire crackled louder as they were drawn into its warmth, and for the first time since coming back to Moonlight, he'd finally see the full view.

Ryn stood near the edge of the fire, watching the rest of his party be dragged into conversations.

He watched.

Not as the captain, nor as a regressor.

Just…as someone passing through a moment that didn't belong to him.

The tribes had gathered naturally.

Rabbitfolk sat beside deerfolk. Horsefolk shared space with those who still carried Bloodmane scars that were still too fresh.

Someone had started passing around flatbread, tearing it into uneven pieces and handing it off without asking who was next.

A song rose somewhere near the fire, like a mixture of melodies stitched together.

Ryn exhaled slowly.

This isn't me, he thought.

If anything, he'd been preparing for the aftermath.

Instead, the work had been done quietly, piece by piece.

Amelia moved easily through the crowd, laughing too loudly at a bad joke, listening when someone needed to talk. She didn't even realize she was doing it, but it was natural to her.

Taylor stood off to one side, speaking with an elder in low, careful tones, reading the room the way Ryn never could. Saying the right thing at the right time.

Near the fire, Jay was explaining something with animated gestures, drawing shapes in the air with a stick, turning confusion into curiosity, about the things the Outside Tribes of Dheam have only ever dreamed of.

And Fritz—

Ryn's gaze drifted to him without thinking.

Fritz didn't need to say much.

He sat where people could see him, where they could approach if they wanted to.

He listened. He nodded. Sometimes he smiled.

But never let anyone feel ignored.

A symbol, not because he wanted to be, but because he was.

This could only happen because of them and their efforts.

Ryn's gaze drifted past the fire, past the circle of people, toward the dark edge of the camp where the light didn't reach, then back at his drink.

In comparison, he hadn't done anything yet.

Not really.

He hadn't given them safety. Hadn't broken the chain that kept them shackled.

Ryn took a slow drink.

As long as Kharvos stood, all of this was fragile.

Ryn reached into his ring without thinking.

His fingers closed around glass.

The vial was empty—its contents long gone, handed to Jay so he could begin dissecting it properly.

Still, the weight of it hadn't changed. Ryn turned it once in his fingers, watching the light bounce off its glass surface.

Ryn stared at it.

This was the answer he'd been circling.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to use it…there had to be another option.

"…Captain."

The voice came from behind him.

Ryn's grip tightened slightly.

He flinched, barely having time to close his hand around the vial. In one smooth motion, he slid it back into his ring before turning.

The Moonlight elder stood there, posture straight despite her age. She didn't look at his hands. If she'd noticed the movement at all, she gave no sign of it.

"I was hoping you'd walk with me," she said. "There's something I'd like you to see."

"…Now?" he asked.

She nodded once. "Before the night ends."

Ryn hesitated, then inclined his head. "Lead the way."

They moved quietly, skirting the edge of the camp and heading toward the darker slopes beyond. Snow crunched softly beneath their boots as the sounds of the feast faded behind them, replaced by the steady hush of wind.

The temperature dropped as they climbed.

Ryn felt it immediately. Cold Essence pressed faintly into his senses, subtle yet unmistakable.

"…This place," he murmured.

The elder glanced back. "You feel it too."

They rounded a bend…and the scene opened.

The waterfall wasn't a single frozen sheet, but layers upon layers of ice wrapped around a living current.

Dark water still flowed beneath the frost, quiet and unbroken, carrying Cold Essence through the stone…almost like a beating heart.

Snow had settled thick along the edges, softening the shape of it, but the cold remained.

Ryn exhaled.

The Moonlight elder watched him carefully.

"The others spoke to me," she said at last. "Your companions."

Ryn turned slightly. "About what?"

She gestured toward the waterfall. "About your Affinity, they say it's hard to cultivate, and that you need certain conditions."

"How did you—"

Her eyes returned to the frozen flow.

"This place has always answered our people," she said.

Ryn felt it now, clearer than before. The Cold Essence here wasn't as pure as the ice lake he'd found on the Isles.

Yet it felt….softer, almost like it was alive.

Her gaze shifted back to him.

"If you intend to shoulder what comes next," she said gently, "then this place is yours to use."

Ryn was quiet for a long moment.

"…Thank you," he said.

The elder inclined her head. "Stay as long as you need."

She turned and began the walk back toward the distant firelight, leaving him alone with the frozen cascade.

Ryn sat at the base of the cascade.

Slowly, he relaxed his body, taking in the external Cold Essence.

He'd half expected another memory to surge, one similar to his time on the Isles. Yet, nothing of the sort happened.

Instead, it was the opposite.

As it continued to seep into him, Ryn felt impressions surface. Not his own memories…but others.

They came softly.

A sense of waiting.

Of bodies pressed together for warmth.

Of keeping each other company, even in the toughest of environments.

The Cold Essence wrapped around those impressions as it flowed into him, preserving them, like ice freezing a flower to preserve its beauty.

It settled into Ryn's core with a gentleness he hadn't expected, knitting itself through his Essence until the warmth of those memories felt inseparable from the cold itself.

His Essence responded, compressing until it had become something else.

Ryn was sure of it now.

He had finally advanced to the Low-Knight Rank.

Though it felt like alignment rather than ascent. As if something that had always been just out of reach had finally clicked into place.

Ryn's throat tightened.

"…I'll keep it," he murmured, unsure who he was speaking to.

Almost like answering the resolve of those who stayed behind here forever.

Ryn opened his eyes.

"Panel."

The system responded.

[Essence: 80]

[Essence Rank: Low-Knight]

Ryn held his breath.

In his past life, it had taken him two years, just to make this jump. Albeit, he didn't have the opportunity to soak in such densely packed Cold Essence.

Nonetheless, it was an achievement, and one that Ryn desperately needed before the worst would come.

Speaking of…

"Ryn!"

The voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

Ryn looked up just as footsteps crunched hard through the snow.

Amelia came running toward him, expression laced with urgency.

"—It came," she said, slowing just enough to grab his arm. "The letter."

Ryn's grip tightened.

"…What letter?"

She swallowed.

"From Kharvos," Amelia said. "An invitation."

The warmth from the frozen cascade vanished instantly.

"Bloodmane's calling for a summit," she continued. "Inviting the other Outside Tribes."

Ryn's gaze hardened.

"So…he's finally ready."

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