The tundra gate pulses with cold magic as we step through, swallowing us in a shimmer of frost and pale light. A blast of frigid wind and a momentary haze later, we emerge into a world of silent white: snowdrifts stretching to a steel-gray horizon under a sky heavy with ice.
Our boots bite into the frozen ground. The air feels sharp, slicing through every layer of fabric. I tugg my collar tighter and mutter, "Well… this is cheerful."
Hinata sweeps her gaze across the wasteland, then points downhill. "There she is."
Perched on a jagged outcropping is our runesmith, Hope, wrapped in a parka several sizes too large, sleeves dangling nearly to the snow. Her short bubblegum-pink hair pokes out in chaotic tufts beneath the hood. Thin, fogged-up glasses sit crooked on her nose, and her mismatched gloves, one woolen, one leather, only add to her eccentric charm. A rune-inscribed tablet trails behind her on a sled.
"About time!" she calls, stomping in place to stay warm. "Do you know how boring it is to wait out here? I counted 312 snowflakes!"
Hinata laughs. "Hope, you haven't even been out here twenty minutes."
Hope throws her arms wide in mock offense. "Time in a tundra is relative! Ta-da! Resident genius runesmith reporting for duty: alive, freezing, and, of course, criminally underprepared!"
Her sled holds only that glowing tablet and a coil of cables, no tent, no supplies. I rais an eyebrow. "No gear?"
Hope blinks, then looks at Hinata. "Weren't you bringing the fancy tent?"
"I packed for two," I said flatly, glancing at Hinata.
Hope's face lights up. "Then this is gonna be so fun! I call dibs on the comfiest corner!"
Hinata rolls her eyes but grins. "She's a handful, but she's brilliant."
"Brilliant, yes," Hope chimes in as she trudges past, "just slightly chaotic."
An hour later, we stand before the vault itself: a colossal door carved into the sheer ice wall, its runes pulsing with sapphire light beneath a half-meter of frost. The remainder of the gate's magic hums faintly in the air, restoring a sense of ancient power.
Hope drops to her knees in the snow, pressing her gloved palms to the runic veins. She hums, a soft, melodic resonance, then leans back to examine the runes. "Full arcane seal. This one's a beefy boy. I'm estimating three days to decrypt. Four if it resists, five if it decides to mock my intelligence."
"Does that happen often?" I ask, brushing ice off my shoulder.
"One time," Hope replies, eyes gleaming. "It called me a 'smooth-brained bald monkey.' I never let it live that down."
Her quirks, at once infuriating and endearing, make me smile. A mind that could pierce arcane secrets but would struggle with packing a tent.
While she begins tracing lines of light in the ice with her tablet, I unroll and pitch the luxury two-man tent, insulated walls, self-anchoring poles, and a miniature cast-iron stove. I thought that it would be just Hinata and me inside. Today, we would need to squeeze in Hope, too.
I bang in the final peg and activate my [Kennel]. With a sharp crackle, Bolt materializes in a surge of blue lightning. Moments later, eight Earth Golems, each two metres tall and equipped head to toe in mana-steel armour, appear alongside the stormhowl goblin. They arrange themselves at the cliff's rim, standing motionless in the wind.
"Bolt, standard watch pattern," I command. "Alert if anything breaches a hundred meters."
Bolt's core glows brighter, and the golems give a slow, stone-tight nod.
Hope glances up from her tablet, excitement dancing in her eyes. "You brought your toys! They're adorable. Do they...can they....do tricks?"
"They do guard duty," I reply.
"Same thing," she says with a grin, then returns to her work as runic glyphs flare and shift on the ice.
Inside, the tent feels absurdly cramped. We step in single file, our packs forming a barrier down the center. Hope throws off her parka first, revealing rune-patterned clothes that shimmer faintly in the lantern light. It's obvious she just threw a parka on over her usual clothing. (picture)
She collapses onto one of the two sleeping pads, curling into a tight ball like a contented kitten. Her pink hair fans across the blanket; one sock hung comically from her toe.
Hinata raises an amused eyebrow. "Hope, didn't you say you sleep well?"
"I do!" Hope insists, pulling an extra blanket over herself and half of Hinata. "Mostly. Except when I snore, talk in my sleep, or accidentally cast spells in my dreams. It's part of my charm."
She wigglea dramatically, then sighs happily. "This is so much better than freezing my buns off on a rock. Ten out of ten, Xavier. Very boyfriend-core of you."
I glance at Hinata. She just smiles.
"We'll make do," I say, settling onto the remaining pad tight against Hinata.
Hope rolls over so her head nearly rests on my shoulder, her mismatched gloves dangling. "Mmm. You smell like coffee. Comforting."
"Hope," Hinata cautions.
Hope shrugs, wriggling an inch away. "Professional boundaries, noted."
Hinata finishes rearranging her gear and leans into me. "Let's eat before the cold eats us."
I summon hot meals from my [Item Box], and the aroma of curry stew and steamed rice fills the tent. Hope sits up abruptly, eyes shining.
"Holy runes," she breathes. "Hot food? How long does it stay warm in there?"
"Five days, at least," I answered. "Time dilation or something, haven't cracked the ratio yet."
She digs in, each spoonful a symphony of steam and spice. "You made this? It's incredible."
"Yep."
"Marry me," she declares mid-bite.
I can't help but laugh. Hinata tosses a glove at her. "I just told you about the harem stuff. That doesn't mean you can pounce on him the day after we become a real couple!"
Hope finishes her mouthful and grins, rice grains stuck to her lips.
Dinner over, Hope dives back into her runes, murmuring theories and tracing symbols in the tent's dim glow. The stove crackles, and outside, Bolt's faint electric hum mingles with the wind whipping across the snow.
I lie awake for a while, soothed by the irregular cadence of Hope's quiet mutterings and Hinata's soft breathing at my side. Eventually, Hope speaks again, voice low.
"Xavier," she says, still focused on her tablet, "thanks for coming along. I… don't do people well, but if Hinata trusts you, then I trust you too. You're alright."
I glance at her, half-lit by runic light. Her cheeks are flushed, either from the cold or something else. She doesn't meet my gaze but offers a small, sincere smile.
Hinata, drifting toward sleep, murmurs, "He's more than alright."
Hope doesn't reply, but her lips curve in a gentle grin.
Three people. One cramped tent. A locked vault that hides its secrets behind arcane ice. And the silent watch of golems and a storm-forged goblin outside.
Tomorrow, we'd begin melting those secrets free.