The Shadows on the Ice

The wind howled across the frozen wasteland, its voice a ghostly wail that clawed at the emptiness. Snowflakes, sharp as shattered glass, lashed against Eva's exposed skin, biting through layers of fabric. She pulled her scarf higher over her nose, but the cold was relentless, seeping through every gap, invading her very bones. Time had blurred into a cruel haze; she had been walking for hours, maybe days. It didn't matter. The only thing that existed now was forward. Forward, or death.

Each step was a battle against the knee-deep snow, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Behind her, a jagged trail of footprints stretched into the white abyss, though she knew better than to rely on them. The storm had a way of swallowing the past, of erasing all evidence of where she had been. The thought gnawed at her, the terrifying notion that she might have been walking in circles, doomed to wander until she collapsed and became just another frozen whisper lost to the storm.

The wind shifted, carrying a sound through the blizzard. A groan, low and deep, reverberated beneath her boots.

She stopped. The world around her stilled, save for the wind's endless screaming.

A second groan, longer this time. The ice beneath her feet whispered in protest. She looked down.

Cracks, thin as veins, spiderwebbed outward from her stance.

Her breath caught. A frozen lake. She had strayed onto the surface of a frozen lake.

Panic surged, but she forced herself to stay still. Any sudden movement could send her plunging into the abyss beneath. Her mind raced. Was she nearing the edge? Or had she wandered into the very heart of the lake, where the ice was at its weakest?

A third groan, louder now. The ice was waking up.

Then, through the whiteout, a voice.

“Eva!”

Her heart lurched. Someone was out there.

She squinted into the storm, but the blizzard made it impossible to see. “Help!” she called, wincing as the ice trembled beneath her weight. She needed to move. Now.

A shadow emerged from the storm. A figure, bundled in thick furs, moving with careful, deliberate steps. Relief flickered in her chest, but it was short-lived.

The lake let out a deafening crack.

“Stop!” she screamed. “The ice—”

Too late.

A sound like gunfire split the air. The world shattered beneath her feet, and she plunged into darkness.

Cold.

It hit her like a sledgehammer, stealing the breath from her lungs. The water seized her in its grip, dragging her downward. Her body locked in shock; limbs too stiff to fight. Blackness enveloped her. She kicked, clawed at the water, but her gloves slipped uselessly against the ice above. Her boots weighed her down, pulling her deeper. Her chest burned, her vision darkening at the edges. Above her, the hole in the ice was shrinking, the swirling current dragging her away.

No. No. No.

A hand plunged into the water, seizing her wrist.

Through the chaos of frost and panic, she saw the shadowed figure from before. Strong fingers wrapped around her arm, yanking her upward with inhuman strength.

She broke the surface with a gasp, air slashing through her throat like a knife. The figure dragged her onto the ice, away from the gaping maw of the lake. She coughed violently, her body convulsing in shivers. The storm howled around them, but the figure knelt beside her, his breath warm against the frozen air.

“Eva,” he murmured.

She looked up, her vision blurry, ice clinging to her lashes. A man. His hood was drawn low, but she glimpsed the sharp cut of his jaw, the ice-flecked beard, the eyes like distant stars. Something about him tugged at her memory.

“We need to move,” he said.

Her teeth chattered. “Who… are you?”

He hesitated. Then: “You know me.”

The words sent a fresh chill through her, one that had nothing to do with the cold. Did she? Something about him… it was familiar, but her mind was fogged, slipping between fractured memories she couldn’t grasp.

The man pulled her up, holding her steady as her legs buckled. “Come on. We’re almost there.”

Almost where? She wanted to ask, but her lips refused to form the words. The world tilted, the storm pressing in, stealing her thoughts. Her vision wavered. She fell.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

When she woke, the storm was gone. A fire crackled nearby, its glow painting the walls of a small, snow-packed shelter. Thick blankets covered her, warmth finally returning to her bones. The man sat across from her, tending the flames. Eva pushed herself up. “Where…?”

“We made it,” he said, voice quiet, tinged with something unreadable.

She studied him. The firelight flickered across his face, illuminating the sharp planes of his features. There was something familiar about him, something nagging at the edges of her mind. A name lingered on her tongue, just out of reach.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, finally: “I’m someone who wasn’t supposed to find you.”

A shiver crawled up her spine. The wind outside shifted, carrying a sound with it—not the empty wail of the storm, but something else.

A whisper.

A call.

Eva turned toward the entrance, her pulse pounding. Something was out there. Waiting. Watching.

Then, another voice, distant but growing closer. Urgent. Desperate.

“Eva.”

The man stiffened. His eyes darted to the entrance, and for the first time, she saw fear in them.

She scrambled to her feet. “Who is that?”

The wind shrieked, swallowing the voice. Then—

“Eva, wake up!”

The fire flickered. The walls of the shelter wavered. The air thickened, pressing down on her chest. The man’s face—was it changing? His features blurred, shifting like mist in the firelight.

Pain lanced through her skull. Her vision swam. The warmth of the shelter faltered, replaced by a crushing, suffocating cold.

The lake. The ice. The darkness.

The fire guttered out. The walls collapsed into nothing.

And as the cold claimed her once more, Eva realized—

She might have been drowning all along.