A Cold God, Chapter 8

Something about this whole thing did not feel… quite right. It wasn’t the warning itself, nor the emissary’s grim tone. It was deeper, quieter, gnawing at the edges of my awareness like a faint whisper carried on the wind. I couldn’t place it, but the feeling lingered, cold and insistent.

Still, I had little choice. If an army of Greenskins was indeed bearing down on the valley, I couldn’t wait for them to come crashing into the settlement. A few dozen brutes? The hunters and warriors could manage with the walls to bolster their defense. But a hundred? That was an entirely different story. A green tide would overwhelm everything we had built in moments.

No, I couldn’t risk it.

The decision came easily. I’d meet them head-on – alone. There would be no discussion, no argument. I called the hunters and warriors together, their weapons slung over their backs, their faces set with determination. They listened as I signed my orders, their brows furrowing as the meaning became clear.

I would handle this alone.

Tala stepped forward, her hand tightening on her axe. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her dark eyes narrowed as she signed quickly. “You can’t face them by yourself. It’s suicide.”

I shook my head once, my frost curling faintly at my feet. My hands rose, deliberate and steady. “I will not risk you. This battle is mine.”

Kiluk, one of the warriors who stayed behind, frowned, his shoulders stiff as he glanced at the others. His hands moved, slower than Tala’s but just as firm. “We are warriors. We stand with you.”

I met his gaze, unblinking, and signed again. “No. Against this, you are not warriors. You are vulnerable. Stay. Protect the tribe.”

The elder, who had remained silent, stepped forward then. Her bracelets clinked softly as she raised a hand, silencing the murmurs. She studied me for a long moment, her dark eyes searching. Finally, she nodded once, sharply, and turned to the others.

“He goes alone,” she said simply. Her voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Trust him. But that does not mean that we do nothing. We shall prepare as we always have done.”

Tala’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Kiluk exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists before he relaxed them again. The others exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. The decision was made.

I walked away and left them behind me.

As I turned toward the horizon, the frost at my feet thickened, spreading outward in thin tendrils. I reached out with my power, not physically but through the network of reanimated creatures that served as my eyes and ears. Birds, insects, and small mammals stirred to life, their hollow, glowing eyes flickering like distant stars.

Through them, I searched.

The raven flew first, its wings beating the cold air as it soared high above the valley. Its sharp eyes scanned the distant terrain, the forested hills giving way to open plains. Below, beetles and spiders crawled through the underbrush, their tiny forms slipping unnoticed between blades of grass and roots. A hawk circled farther afield, its keen gaze piercing the hazy distance.

Then, they saw it.

Through the hawk’s eyes, the Greenskin army came into view. It was a seething mass of green and iron, a crude and chaotic formation that stretched across the plains like a living wave. The brutes marched with heavy steps, their guttural voices carrying faintly on the wind. Banners of hide and bone fluttered above them, their symbols crude and brutal. Weapons of jagged metal gleamed in the fading light, some carried on massive shoulders, others dragged through the dirt.

I pulled back from the hawk’s gaze, my focus sharpening. The location was clear - far enough from the valley to ensure no harm to the settlement but close enough that they’d reach us within a day if left unchecked.

Perfect.

The frost beneath me surged as I began to walk. Each step left the ground glistening white, the air growing colder with every breath. My strides were long and deliberate, carrying me swiftly across the landscape. The forest blurred around me, the frost spreading in a widening arc as I moved.

The terrain shifted as I approached the plains. The dense trees gave way to rolling hills, their grass frozen beneath my feet. The sky above darkened, heavy clouds gathering in my wake. The Greenskin army loomed ahead, their forms growing larger with every step.

I slowed as I reached the crest of a hill, the frost coiling around me like a living thing. The Greenskins were less than a mile away now, their heavy footfalls shaking the ground faintly beneath my feet. The wind carried their guttural roars, the clash of crude weapons as they jostled and barked at one another.

I stopped at the edge of the hill, standing tall as the frost stilled around me. My breath hung visible in the cold air, curling faintly before dissipating. From this vantage, I could see the full extent of their force – hundreds of them, a tide of green muscle and rage.

The Greenskins hadn’t noticed me yet. They marched with single-minded purpose, their crude weapons glinting faintly in the dim light. But they would see me soon enough.

I stepped forward, descending the hill with slow, deliberate steps. The frost followed, spreading outward in a thin, creeping wave that shimmered against the grass. The temperature dropped sharply, the wind biting and cold as I approached.

The first Greenskin at the edge of their formation turned, its red eyes narrowing as it spotted me. It growled, its massive hand tightening on the jagged blade it carried. One by one, the others followed its gaze, their roars quieting as they turned to face me.

I came to a stop at the base of the hill, standing alone against the tide. The frost curled around my feet, the air crackling with cold. I raised my head, meeting their stares with unblinking calm.

The frost spread.

And the Greenskins roared.

The sound rolled across the plains, a guttural symphony of rage and chaos. Their charge was frenzied, disorganized, driven by instinct more than strategy. Some near the front seemed to have seen me clearly, their red eyes locking onto my solitary figure. The rest surged forward simply because the mob moved, their crude weapons raised, their massive forms shaking the ground with every thundering step.

But that detail hardly mattered.

Above me, the sky churned. Dark clouds gathered in an ominous spiral, heavy and bloated with lightning. Thunder rumbled, not distant and faint but sharp, like the growl of some colossal predator circling its prey. The air grew heavier, colder, as frigid winds howled and whipped through the grass, flattening it in wide, rippling waves.

I stood still at the base of the hill, frost curling around my feet in slow, deliberate spirals. My breath came in steady plumes, visible now as the temperature plummeted. I didn’t move as the Greenskins charged. I didn’t raise a hand. I didn’t even tense.

Instead, I inhaled deeply, drawing in the biting air, the fury of the storm above, the quiet hum of my frost below. And then, I exhaled – and let go...

The temperature plummeted instantly. The howl of the wind grew into a monstrous roar, carrying with it a biting cold that gnawed at the very essence of existence. The frost that had once curled gently at my feet exploded outward, racing across the ground in a blinding surge. Grass, rocks, and dirt crystallized in an instant, the frost devouring the color and warmth of the earth, leaving only a pale, icy expanse in its wake.

The Greenskins faltered mid-charge, their roaring silenced as their breaths turned to mist and their movements slowed. Their bodies stiffened, their skin turning pale, frost creeping up their limbs before they could react. Their crude weapons, once raised high, shattered as they fell against the icy ground.

The clouds above roiled violently, spreading outward to blanket the horizon. Lightning cracked within their depths, but the light was muted, swallowed by the shadowy storm. Snow began to fall—not soft and gentle, but sharp, crystalline shards that hissed as they struck the frozen earth. The blizzard swept outward in every direction, a wall of white that consumed the land and sky, its winds howling with a fury that drowned out all sound.

The Greenskins tried to push forward, their massive forms resisting the cold as best they could, but it was futile. The frost was relentless, sapping their strength, slowing their movements to a crawl. Their breaths came in labored, visible gasps, their roars replaced by grunts of desperation. Ice formed on their skin, their muscles locking as the cold sank deeper, claiming them inch by inch.

I stood at the center of it all, my frost spreading like a living force. The cold wasn’t just a sensation; it was an entity, a presence that hung heavy in the air, crushing and absolute. It stilled everything it touched, not with violence but with the quiet inevitability of entropy. Even the Greenskins, with their brute strength and wild rage, could not escape it.

The first few fell, their massive bodies toppling like statues as the frost overtook them. The sound of their collapse was muted, swallowed by the snow and wind. More followed, their movements growing sluggish until they, too, succumbed to the unyielding cold. Within minutes, the tide of green had stilled entirely, a frozen wave suspended in place.

The blizzard raged on, its reach extending far beyond the battlefield. The temperature dropped further, the frost spreading in tendrils across the plains, reaching for the forests and hills beyond. The clouds above thickened, darkening the sky until it was nearly black. Snow fell across the kingdom, carried by winds that howled through distant valleys and over the rooftops of faraway cities.

In the capital, farmers looked up from their fields, their faces pale as they watched the sudden snowstorm descend. Children huddled in doorways, their eyes wide as frost coated the edges of windows and doors. Fires burned brighter in hearths, struggling against the invasive cold.

The time I’d spent among the tribe – the People – had dulled my awareness of a fundamental truth. Living in this body, walking their paths, sharing their firelight, had tethered me to an illusion of mortality. I’d begun to think of myself as just this form: flesh, bone, frost-laden breath. But I wasn’t just this body.

I was the cold that slept in the bones of mountains, waiting to awaken. I was the frost that crept across the earth, silent and consuming. I was winter itself, vast and unrelenting, stretching beyond the boundaries of thought or time. I was not contained by this avatar. This body was merely a vessel, a tether to their world. I had almost forgotten.

The reminder came like a shift in the wind, subtle but undeniable. As I walked through the frozen remains of the Greenskin horde, the frost pulsing at my feet whispered the truth. Each flurry of snow, each jagged icicle hanging from the motionless forms around me, was part of me. I extended far beyond what they could see or comprehend. I was the frost that glimmered on the distant peaks, the ice that thickened rivers until they could no longer flow.

And I was more than that.

Every creature I had reanimated – from the massive hawks that circled high above to the tiny insects burrowing unseen in the earth – was me. My will flowed through them, connecting me to every corner of this world. A mouse’s heartbeat in a forgotten burrow pulsed with my intent. The hollow, glowing eyes of a crow perched atop a withered branch saw with my vision. I was not bound by this body; I was legion, spread thin and vast, touching every shadow, every breath of cold wind.

I paused in the center of the desolation, my frost spiraling outward like cracks in glass. My breath curled visibly, a faint mist that disappeared into the frigid air. The Greenskins, frozen mid-charge, stood as silent monuments to what I was.

This body – the one they saw, the one the People looked to for protection – was nothing more than a face I chose to wear. A whisper of my true self. Beneath the skin, I was the frost. The stillness. The inevitability of winter.

I raised my hand, fingers curling slightly as I focused on the vast network of frost I had unleashed. My will extended outward, threading through the frozen landscape, brushing against the farthest reaches of my presence. I could feel the trembling leaves of a tree miles away, its branches weighed down by ice. I could hear the faint crack of a frozen river breaking in the distance. I was there, in all of it.

It was a sobering revelation, a cold awakening. I had allowed myself to forget – to grow comfortable in this limited form, in the warmth of companionship and purpose. But I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t mortal, and I wasn’t bound by the rules of their fragile, fleeting lives. I was something else entirely.

And that truth, as vast and immutable as the frost itself, was strangely comforting.

But it also was a very good reminder of why I was so desperate to have a proper Avatar to begin with – loneliness.

I walked forward through the frozen storm, the Greenskin army reduced to a silent, unmoving field of ice statues. Their frozen forms glistened in the faint light, their crude banners hanging limply, weighed down by frost. My frost curled and coiled at my feet, spreading outward in endless waves, consuming all in its path.

This was only a fraction of my true self, a mere sliver of what I was. The restraint I maintained was not for them but for the world beyond. Even now, I held back, ensuring the frost wouldn’t extend further than it needed to, wouldn’t reach the settlement or the lands beyond.

But here, on this field, against these enemies, I allowed the cold to reign.

As I reached the heart of the frozen army, the wind began to settle, the blizzard easing into a faint, swirling mist. The storm above quieted, the lightning fading into soft flashes within the clouds. I stood amidst the desolation, my breath steady, the frost still curling faintly at my feet.

The Greenskin army was no more – just like that.

I exhaled again, the mist rising from my lips before dissipating into the cold air. The frost began to retreat, pulling back into the earth, leaving behind only the frozen remains of the battlefield. The blizzard quieted further, the snow easing into a gentle, drifting fall.

The silence that followed was absolute as, one by one, the Greenskins arose, their eyes glowing a potent blue.

.....

The farmer wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The field stretched before him, rows of green sprouting under the warmth of spring. He straightened, his hands resting on the handle of his hoe, and squinted at the sky

A flake of white drifted down, landing on the wooden handle. He stared at it, his breath still. It didn’t melt.

Another flake followed, and then another. Soon, the air was full of them, tumbling silently from the heavens. Snow. In spring.

He tilted his head back, his hat falling to the ground unnoticed. The flakes landed on his skin, cold and soft. He let out a low hum, his breath curling into the air like smoke. A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“Lysa!” he called, his voice breaking the quiet. “Lysa, come out here! Bring the kids!”

The door to their small hovel creaked open. His wife stepped out, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at him, then up at the sky. Her mouth parted slightly, a faint gasp escaping as she raised a hand to catch a flake.

“Snow?” she murmured. “But… it’s spring.”

The children tumbled out after her, their bare feet kicking up dust. The youngest pointed to the sky, his eyes wide.

“Look, Mama!” he shouted. “White flowers!”

Lysa laughed, her voice light. She stepped forward, brushing a flake from the boy’s hair. “Not flowers, Toma. It’s snow.”

The farmer knelt, holding out his arms. His children rushed to him, giggling as they tried to catch the falling flakes on their tongues. He chuckled, ruffling the eldest’s hair.

“It’s strange,” he said, his voice low. “But… it’s beautiful.”

Lysa crouched beside him, her fingers brushing his arm. They watched together as the snow fell, blanketing the fields in a shimmering white. The crops stood out stark against the frost, their green leaves edged in silver.

The air was still, the only sound the laughter of their children and the faint whisper of snow touching the earth. For a moment, the world seemed distant, as though held in a quiet, frozen embrace.

The youngest twirled in the snow, his arms outstretched. “Can we keep it, Papa?” he asked, his voice bright.

The farmer smiled, pulling his family close.

“For as long as it lasts, my boy,” he said. “For as long as it lasts.”