Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 159: Freezing Trail (3)

The cold crept in again.

Not fast. Not sharp. Just slow enough to pretend it had always been there.

Lindarion rubbed his palms together. The leather of his gloves made a dull sound. Not enough friction to help. Just enough to make his fingers ache a little less. The fire he'd conjured earlier felt like a memory now.

Too small. Too far behind them.

He stood up, legs stiff, and turned his head.

Lira wasn't beside him anymore. Neither was Ren.

Ardan had vanished into the white ahead, probably scouting again. Meren's voice was still echoing faintly from behind the ridge, some curse about his ankle and mountain gods being petty.

'Right. Time to regroup.'

The ledge curved around a cluster of ice-slicked boulders. Not a long walk. But the wind made it feel longer. It hissed through the stones, tugging at his hood, needling down his collar like it had something to prove.

He squinted through the snow. A few dark shapes up ahead. Moving.

One of them shifted, stepped into clearer view.

Lira.

She looked back at the same time, eyes narrowing slightly like she'd felt him before she saw him. She didn't say anything.

She didn't need to.

Ren sat cross-legged just beyond her, brushing snow off her sleeves with exaggerated effort. Meren crouched nearby, hugging himself.

Ardan stood further ahead, facing the drop again, cloak pulled tighter across his chest.

Lindarion let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding.

'There they are.'

He joined them without a word. Sat near Ren. Not too close. Just enough to catch the edge of the shelter Lira's shadow gave from the wind.

His teeth had started to click faintly.

He clenched his jaw.

"Hold still," he muttered.

He lifted his hand again. No words. No dramatic pose. Just focus.

Mana stirred beneath his skin like warm water lapping against a cold shore.

The fire came easier this time.

It bloomed just above his palm, small and tight and steady. The color was softer than before, a dull orange with flickers of gold. Not a torch. Not a blaze. Just warmth, shaped and held.

He lowered his hand toward the ground and let the fire rest there. It didn't sink into the snow. Didn't flicker under the wind. Just stayed.

The others looked at it like it was the best thing they'd seen all day.

Meren scooted forward instantly. His knees cracked with the motion. "That's it. I'm naming you Firelord."

"No," Lindarion said.

"It's decided."

Ren leaned in. Her gloves hovered just above the flame. "Feels better than the last one."

"It's the same," Lindarion said.

"No, this one's got effort behind it. This one says you care."

He gave her a look. She smiled like she hadn't said anything weird.

Ardan stepped back from the ledge and gave a slow nod toward the fire. He didn't say anything, but he settled closer.

Even Lira moved half a step in.

Not much.

But enough.

Lindarion rested both hands on his knees and watched the heat ripple faintly against the falling snow.

It wasn't enough to fight the mountain.

But it was enough to say they hadn't lost yet.

His fingers stopped shaking.

His breath evened out.

He blinked snow off his lashes and tried not to think about how much higher they still had to climb.

'One fire at a time,' he thought. 'That's how we do this.'

No one talked for a while.

Just the sound of snow hitting stone, and the quiet hum of fire doing its job.

—

The flame made a soft sound. Not crackling. More like breathing. Shallow. Focused. Almost hesitant.

Lindarion sat with his arms around his knees now. His fingers weren't numb anymore, just dull. Like the feeling had gone off to sulk and hadn't decided if it was coming back yet.

The rest of the group hadn't spoken in a while.

Ren had leaned back on her hands, letting the warmth touch her face. Meren had curled up again, muttering half-sentences into his scarf. Ardan hadn't blinked in a full minute.

And Lira…

He looked up.

She was standing again. Not far. Just at the edge of their little circle. Her eyes moved across the slope ahead like she was already planning three different ways through it. None of them looked pleasant.

He didn't say anything.

But part of him wanted to.

Something simple. Just to hear a voice that wasn't wind or nerves.

'You don't have to look so sharp all the time,' he thought. 'We're not running.'

Not yet, anyway.

His stomach growled once. Not loud, but enough for Ren to glance at him sideways.

"You're brave," she said.

He blinked. "What."

"Making fire with an empty stomach. That's the real courage."

Meren stirred. "Wait. We have more food?"

"Saltleaf root," Ardan said without looking.

"That's not food. That's punishment."

Lindarion sighed. "It's calories."

"It's trauma."

Ren pulled a small pouch from her coat and tossed it toward him.

Lindarion caught it out of reflex. Inside were thin strips of dried something. Could've been fruit. Could've been regret. Either way, it chewed.

He bit off a piece and winced as it stuck to his molars.

'Better than nothing.'

Ardan glanced uphill. "We'll move in ten."

Lira didn't argue. Just adjusted the strap across her chest and stepped closer to the fire. Not for warmth. Just to check something. Maybe the group. Maybe him.

Her eyes landed on his hands.

He didn't hide the flame. Didn't explain it either.

She gave a nod. Small. But approving.

Then turned away.

'That's the closest thing I'll get to praise, huh.'

The pouch in his hand was half empty now. He passed it to Meren, who made a sound like he might cry from joy.

Ren rolled her eyes. "It's not that good."

"Everything tastes like hope if you haven't eaten in a while."

Lindarion stretched his fingers slowly. His shoulders cracked when he rolled them back. Every joint reminded him they'd been climbing for hours.

But the ache didn't scare him.

Not like before.

The cold hadn't gotten into his chest. His mana hadn't slipped once. The fire was still steady.