CHAPTER 391: HALF A SOUL-II

Far from the castle’s gilded halls stretched a forest drowned in snow. To arrive to the forest takes weeks, at least if it was done by normal means, but as a sorcerer, Lastor had used all his magic circle to arrive to the forest’s entrance in a count of five days, quite a feat that one had to acknowledge.

Usually Lastor would marvel and reward himself for being able to do the impossible but today he was in no mood of celebration as he had came with a grave news and the probability of fulfilling his goal was close to zero.

Every inch of the ground lay buried beneath a thick white shroud, the trees bowed under its weight, their branches creaking in protest. Not a single patch of earth was visible; the world here belonged entirely to winter.

Lastor stepped into the frozen domain without hesitation. The snow crunched beneath his boots, yet he moved with the ease of one unbothered by the biting cold. Above, the sky was a pale, endless white, flurries drifting endlessly as if the heavens themselves had forgotten the warmth of sun or blue sky.

It was a place without reprieve, and Lastor knew why. The snowfall would never cease, not while the Ice Forest Witch drew breath within her lair.

A knight had walked beside him, a familiar knight that was none other than Renard. He looked at the haze of snow, slightly impressed as a moment ago the sky was dry with the bright sun above their heads. His subordinates that were now shivering in cold had just complained about the drought until they appear in the forest where the once summery weather had turned cold and dry.

After tossing a heavy coat over one of the men trailing behind him, Renard turned to face the endless expanse of white and pine. His crimson eyes narrowed against the biting wind.

"Are you certain you know where you’re going?" His voice carried no distrust, only the weight of caution. The snow stretched endlessly before them, smothering the land in silence and frost. Even the footprints they had left moments ago were already erased, swallowed by the storm as though they had never existed.

"She is here," Lastor replied, his tone steady despite the cold gnawing at his bones. His breath fogged in the air as he pressed forward. "As long as the forest is drowned in snow, the witch endures."

Renard scanned the white void with a frown. "And yet, I see no sign of a castle." His suspicion sharpened, and he tilted his head toward Lastor. "You do know where the witch’s dwelling is... don’t you?"

Lastor hesitated, then exhaled into the cold, forcing a strained smile. "Whether it is a mansion or a castle, I cannot say, Sir Renard. I only know she resides somewhere within this forest."

Renard’s brow twitched. "So you don’t have a map." A sigh escaped him as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He turned sharply to his men, his tone like the crack of ice. "Return. Retrace the path we came. Now."

"But Sir Renard—" one began, before Renard cut him off.

"You’ll die out here without preparation. If it is only me and the sorcerer, we can at least endure."

The subordinates exchanged uneasy glances. One of them, a red haired soldier with piercing blue eyes, lifted his voice against the storm. "Sir Renard, we packed enough food for a week, I think—" His words broke as his eyes widened. "What’s that?"

The others turned.

From the horizon, something raced toward them, blinding, fast, unstoppable.

Renard’s instincts flared, and he snapped his head around, scanning. The ground beneath their boots trembled, groaning under the force that rushed closer.

The blur of white sharpened, until the truth struck them with terror.

Not wind. Not storm.

An avalanche.

"RUN!" Renard raised his voice, quickly reaching out his hand to scoop the stunned Lastor whose nose was about to be wiped away by the avalanche. Before his body would be covered by the snow for good, Renard had rushed toward the pine tree, climbing so quickly to steer away from the avalanche while he saw most of his subordinates had departed on their own ways to avoid being swallowed by the avalanche.

The ground continued to quake endlessly and only stopped after half an hour. From above, Renard could tell that he had been separated from good with all his subordinates and a marred frustration etched on his forehead.

He turned to Lastor once they dropped down to the ground with an angry glare, "Why didn’t you tell us that you didn’t know the location of the ice witch?!"

"I know the location of the ice witch," insisted Lastor, "But where she lives is never in the same location! You wouldn’t know whether one day she stays at the top of the forest or the bottom. She appears only when she wills! Isn’t that why I have advised you not to follow me? But you entered the circle of magic because you fear that I would run away and leave without finding a solution to save the Princess."

Never expecting that Lastor would yell at him, Renard was startled and shook.

He could only stare at Lastor and blink in a daze as the sorcerer’s words weren’t wrong. The fact is... Lastor had warned earlier to not bring all the men with him and to allow him traverse to the forest alone, especially since a witch is fickle and she wouldn’t like a large group of people entering the forest.

But how could Renard trust Lastor? The man was odd from the start and he was skeptic that Lastor would use this as a pretense when in truth he was going to run back to the castle of sorcerers, exposing Arabella or Cassius’s weakness to Morpheus, costing them their lives.

"Whatever," Lastor sighed as he turned away, "I knew from the start bringing someone with me is a foolish idea. We aren’t close nor do we know each other, in such a forest of snow, wouldn’t everyone simply distrust one another?"

Renard pursed his lips in silence. He had thought that despite being a vampire he was different and had never looked at others by their race, but it appeared that he was wrong... dead wrong.

"I doubt that your men are dead," Lastor then said, mistaking Renard frown came from worries stem from losing his men in the avalanche. "The witch usually drive out everyone she doesn’t welcome with the trick. I suspect that all your men are alive, just somewhere far from the forest."

"But that means.."

"Yes, she’s aware that we are here," Lastor answered, determination took over him as he stepped through the snow, traversing in a haste to find the ice witch.

They don’t have time... he was worried that soon someone bothersome like Wendy would come to see Arabella as unlike the rest of the sorceress, Wendy wouldn’t hesitate to kill Arabella... and with Morpheus who was desperate, who to say he wouldn’t order Wendy to kill Arabella?