The blizzard had momentarily subsided, but the silence it left in its wake was more terrifying than the roar of the wind. The group advanced slowly across a moor covered in black ice, where the remains of the Frost Spawn were left behind like a macabre monument. Frozen blood clung to the ground in twisted shapes. The atmosphere weighed like a tombstone on each of them.

  Luna led in silence, her eyes fixed on the horizon glowing crimson red in the sunlight, yet lifeless, as if devoid of emotion. Eliot, on the other hand, the boy still trembling in Joás’s arms, said nothing. His body still shuddered with every memory of the recent terror. Yet something in the air was… different. A chill crept down everyone’s spine, an invisible presence watching them from some hidden corner of that frozen hell.

  “We’re not alone…” Luna whispered to the group, her voice strained with tension, barely a breath drowned in fear.

  The group turned immediately, their eyes darting frantically among the shadows and cracks in the ice. Then they saw them. Human figures… or what resembled them. Their bodies were covered by a layer of translucent ice, stretched tight like a second skin, making them glow with a pale spectral light, as if death itself had sculpted them in frost with its own hands. Their eyes, two gray, empty pits, reflected the total absence of life. They watched from a distance, motionless, blending into the darkness. They lurked among the ruins of the destroyed city, hidden in the deepest shadows, like hunters ready to strike. Hungry for more than flesh… eager to drag them into a cold from which there would be no return.

  Elian's voice cried out their names:

  “Damn it… they’re Walkers!”

  Creatures that roamed in groups through this desert, frozen world, always in search of some unfortunate soul to make their dinner. Their most peculiar trait was the way they attacked: they bit their prey like zombies. However, a single bite from these beings was lethal, as the affected area froze immediately, becoming irrecoverable and useless, to the point of causing death.

  The group positioned themselves in a circular formation, prepared for battle against the creatures. In the center stood Joás and little Eliot, accompanied by Luna, who gave instructions to the others while guarding the child and keeping a close eye on the unpredictable Joás.

  “Aren’t you going to fight alongside your men?” Joás asked with a sarcastic and challenging tone.

  Luna gave a slight smile, looking him in the eyes with a firm gaze before responding:

  “I appreciate your sarcastic concern for my men. But no, it’s not necessary. They know what to do and, besides, they’re perfectly capable of handling the Walkers. You, on the other hand, are more dangerous than they are. Our absolute priority is to get you to the colony immediately. I hope you keep your end of the deal and come with us without trouble, Joás.”

  Her voice sounded threatening and imposing as she moved closer to him and Eliot.

  “How lucky we are, Eliot, that this lovely lady is guarding and protecting us!” Joás exclaimed sarcastically, letting out a laugh.

  Everyone was in position, waiting for the Walkers to break the tense calm before the battle with their frenzied attacks, as if they were the living dead.

  Suddenly, a small voice interrupted the moment’s tension.

  It was Eliot, the little boy, who pulled from his shoulder-hung bag a kind of lamp and handed it to Joás, who looked at him, confused by the unexpected gesture.

  “Joás, please place the lamp in your hand and create a flame—but not too strong,” Eliot asked calmly.

  Following the boy’s request, Joás generated a small flame that entered the lamp. Instantly, it began to emit an intense light that projected behind the group, illuminating them in the middle of the city.

  Seeing that light, the Walkers felt an indescribable terror. Their bodies trembled and, seized with panic, fled in terror, running from the group until they vanished into the darkness. Suddenly, the danger was gone.

  All astonished by the event, turned and saw the light still emanating from the lamp Joás held in his hand. Amazed, Luna spoke and asked the boy:

  “How is it possible that this light scared the Walkers away like that?”

  Nervous and a bit frightened by the group’s stares and Luna’s question, the boy gave a brief explanation of the lamp’s function and the effects of its light:

  “As you know, Walkers fear direct fire, but it’s nearly impossible to use torches in this cold and its violent snowstorms. Also, using melee weapons constantly quickly drains the energy cores, making traditional fire generation unfeasible, leaving combat as the only option.

  But this lamp works differently. By generating a small flame inside it, it amplifies its light, creating in the Walkers the illusion of a large blaze. However, this effect doesn’t work with just any flame… it only works with the flames Joás produces.”

  Amazed by the boy’s explanation, the group thanked him with genuine smiles that made Eliot blush.

  Elian, the largest of the group, let out a booming laugh and shouted at the top of his lungs:

  “Who would’ve thought saving your life, kid, would be totally worth it! Thanks a lot for helping us, Eliot. By the way, got more gadgets like that we could use?”

  With enthusiasm, Eliot responded:

  “Yes, I do! Though many are still just prototypes… and most were left at my makeshift camp.”

  “Ahh, so those weird artifacts were your inventions, kid,” one of the group murmured in surprise.

  Interrupting the conversation, Luna said: “Anyway, thank you, Eliot. You were a big help against the Walkers and spared us a battle,” she said, gently ruffling his hair. Her face bore a warm, affectionate smile.

  Afterward, Luna ordered Joás not to let go of the lamp and to keep generating that fire, then addressed the group to continue their way back to the colony.

  Leaving the ruined and destroyed city, the group could see the colony in the distance, emerging from the frozen mist like a corpse decomposed by time. Its twisted and corroded structures looked like skeletons of a civilization kept alive only by the instinct to survive, now reduced to ruins weeping frost. The flickering lights offered no comfort; they were dying heartbeats of a heart beating weakly and slowly. The wall guards watched as the group approached and, recognizing their suits, realized it was Luna and her exploration team. They proceeded to open the gates to let them enter the colony.

  Inside, one could see the inhabitants—if they could still be called that—shadows of what were once human. Their pale faces, empty eyes, and trembling hands clung to any hint of warmth. Whispers filled the air, echoes of untold tragedies, laments of those who gave in to darkness and hunger.

  The group moved through the remains of a colony on the verge of collapsing, observing the frost-covered walls where lifeless, deformed bodies lay trapped, frozen in time with expressions of perpetual terror. The wind blew like a funeral chant, laden with ashes and despair. Every step toward the colony’s core revealed deeper horrors: doors sealed with dark stains, rooms where silence weighed more than any scream, and hallways where the darkness seemed to watch them, expectant. There was no salvation in that place. Only memories of an apocalypse that never ended.

  Here, in the heart of eternal ice, hope was nothing but a cruel lie, and every breath felt like the last.

  As they moved through the colony, the inhabitants watched them in silence, with empty stares, as if in their eyes reflected the desolation of that world. They recognized the exploration group… but something was wrong. There were far too few of them. Less than half of those who had left.

  The murmurs of the onlookers grew with each step, a whisper laden with fear and suspicion. Suddenly, a woman stepped forward, blocking the way. Beside her, a girl clung tightly to her hand, eyes full of uncertainty.

  Luna, at the front of the group, stopped when the woman looked her directly in the eye. Her lips trembled, her voice broke before uttering a single terrifying question:

  “Luna Starfire… where is my James? I don’t see him in the group…” Her voice rose into a strangled, heartbreaking cry—“Tell me, Luna! Where is he?!”

  Luna didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

  Then, as if the woman had lit a fuse, the rest of the crowd joined the outcry. Trembling voices, desperate, full of anguish:

  “Where’s Laura?”

  “Why don’t I see Carlos?”

  “Tell me Antonia is okay!”

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  “Where is my son?”

  “And my husband?”

  “Dad...? Mom...?”

  The air grew unbearably heavy. Every question was a dagger to the chest. Every name, an unbearable weight on the group’s shoulders. The pain in their eyes was as overwhelming as the silence of those who returned.

  Frozen like statues, unable to speak a word, they could only bear the weight of the truth… a truth too cruel to speak aloud.

  The clamor of desperate questions rumbled in the air, a tide of anguish that engulfed them. But Luna did not flinch. Her expression remained impenetrable, her red eyes sharp and empty, watching the people around her.

  She waited until the storm of pleas and demands ended—demands for an answer to save them from their own fears. They fell silent, waiting to hear a response.

  Then Luna, as the group’s leader, spoke with a firm voice, without a hint of hesitation or emotion:

  “They won’t be coming back.”

  The impact of her words was immediate. Some gasped, others covered their mouths, stifling sobs they could no longer hold back. But Luna continued, with the same relentless calm:

  “They died out there. We couldn’t bring their bodies. There was no time, no opportunity.”

  She let the silence do its work, let every word sink in like an irrevocable sentence.

  “Cry if you must cry, scream if you need to scream. But understand this: in this cold and cruel world, death is the only certainty. There are no promises, no happy endings. Those of us who returned did so because we’re still alive, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe. So take your pain, your rage, your loss… and move forward. Because tomorrow, we might be the ones who don’t return.”

  Her voice never wavered. There were no apologies, no false hopes. Only the raw, cruel truth.

  With nothing more to say, Luna looked at her people one last time and, with a nod of her head, ordered the group to continue toward the colony’s central tower.

  Behind them, only the echo of their sentence and the weeping of those who would never see their loved ones again remained.

  Joás approached with calm steps, observing Luna with a mix of curiosity and amusement. His smile was light, almost playful, but in his gaze there was a hint of genuine questioning.

  —Even for me, that answer was a bit cruel —he commented with a sigh, shaking his head gently—. Couldn’t you have told them something more hopeful? Something that, at least, would ease their sorrow.

  Luna didn’t stop. Her eyes remained fixed forward as she responded with the same implacable calm that characterized her.

  —Hope? For what? —she repeated without changing the tone of her voice—. So they keep waiting for someone who will never return? So they cling to a lie and destroy themselves even more when reality catches up to them?

  She paused a moment before continuing, choosing each word with precision.

  —Pain is the price we all must pay in this world. There is no escape, no true solace. Only the certainty that we are still alive one more day. I am not so cruel as to give them false hopes when the truth is already hard enough.

  Joás watched her in silence, letting her words settle. Then, with a more genuine smile, he murmured:

  —Cold, but fair. I suppose that’s why you’re the leader.

  Luna didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. She had said all that needed to be said.

  Upon reaching the central tower of the colony, the group stopped in front of its imposing doors. They rose like a colossus of metal and concrete, corroded by time. Frost and cracks covered their surface, silent witnesses of the relentless assault of cold and despair. Luna advanced without hesitation, the group following close behind, still feeling the weight of the stares of the inhabitants piercing their backs.

  Elian was the first to push the enormous rusted doors, with the help of a few others. They opened with a pitiful groan, as if even the steel lamented the fate of those who crossed its threshold. Inside, several guards remained stationed in position, watching with unreadable expressions. The atmosphere was no less gloomy. The flickering lights cast distorted shadows on the cracked walls, and the air was thick with a metallic, frigid scent.

  They followed a long hallway until reaching a large congressional hall, still in good condition. Despite the deterioration in other areas of the colony, this place remained surprisingly orderly, like an auditorium ready for crucial deliberations.

  The members of the Congress were already waiting. In the center of the room stood five main chairs, four of them arranged in tiers and occupied by imposing figures, except for one. At the highest point, a larger chair stood out from the rest, occupied by a man with white hair and red eyes who watched them with an air of superiority. Around him, other seats formed a semicircle, evoking the structure of a parliament.

  The leaders of the colony, men and women with faces hardened by scarcity and responsibility, did not rise when Luna and her group entered. They simply watched them in silence, measuring every expression, every gesture. Their gazes reflected exhaustion, distrust, and—most dangerously—a fragile hope tinged with desperation.

  The first to speak was an old man with a piercing gaze. His raspy voice was a remnant of authority forged in better times.

  —There are fewer of you than those who departed.

  It wasn’t a question. It was a judgment.

  The old man, named Magnar, led the faction of the Circle of Sages, those responsible for preserving knowledge, healing the sick, and seeking ways to improve life in the colony.

  Luna held his gaze without flinching and replied coldly.

  —We did what we could.

  The silence that followed was suffocating. Some lowered their gazes. Others, like the black-haired woman with an unyielding expression to Magnar’s right, squinted. She adjusted her glasses with a slight movement of her left hand, evaluating them carefully, although her concern focused especially on Joás and little Eliot.

  This woman was called Elira, leader of the Engineer’s Guild, responsible for repairing the colony’s infrastructure and developing inventions for survival.

  Finally, another of the leaders, a robust man with scars marking his face, crossed his arms and spoke with a deep, tired voice.

  —Did you find what we sent you to look for?

  His name was Maelis, chief of the Ice Guard, the faction tasked with protecting the colony and preserving peace within its walls.

  Luna exhaled slowly. Joás, still holding Eliot’s lamp, glanced sideways at her with a sly smile, enjoying the tension in the room.

  —Yes —she responded firmly—. Though not in the way we expected.

  She stepped aside and pointed coldly at Joás, who was being hugged around the leg by a timid, frightened Eliot. Joás, on the other hand, could only look at the council leaders and others with a mocking, playful expression.

  The murmur of disapproval quickly grew into a roar of outraged voices echoing off the walls of the great hall. The council leaders rose from their seats, their faces flushed with fury and frustration. Magnar slammed the table hard, shaking the documents resting on it.

  —A man and a child instead of the reactor that could save us all?! —he roared, his voice booming in the hall—. Are you playing with our lives, Luna?! Don’t you understand what you’ve done?!

  The murmurs became shouts. The entire council was on the brink of collapse, each leader demanding answers. Eyes full of rage and desperation fixed on Luna, who stood unmoving, like a statue carved from ice.

  Before chaos could erupt, a single movement of her right hand was enough to plunge the room into absolute silence. There he was, at the very top, watching the scene with a cold expression, his gaze sharp as a blade, charged with overwhelming superiority.

  He was the undisputed leader of the colony, the only one capable of keeping the factions united under an implacable order. Marcus Starfire. Mayor, yes, but also judge, executioner, and the highest authority in that frozen refuge.

  His red eyes, glowing like embers amid the frost, locked onto the young man and the child. Then, with a deep, overwhelming voice laden with power, he spoke.

  —Luna… —Marcus Starfire’s voice slid through the room like a dense, icy, implacable shadow—. I hope, for your sake, that this isn’t some pathetic attempt at an excuse. Because I want to believe you’re not na?ve enough to think that what you just said could convince me.

  His crimson gaze fell on her with the weight of an inevitable sentence, piercing through any pride she might have had left.

  —How am I supposed to believe these people are our salvation? —His tone hardened, each word sharp as a knife—. We sent you with the best this colony had to offer… One hundred of our deadliest assets, a force forged from the best the four factions could give. And you… you, the chosen leader to guide them.

  A tense silence gripped the room. Then, his voice dropped lower, but was laced with a latent threat.

  —And you return… with barely thirty. Thirty, Luna. Not even half. —His words were icy blades—. And the reactor? That damn energy core that could keep this colony alive—where is it?

  His figure, towering from above, seemed to grow with each word.

  —Do you bring a location? A lead? Anything to justify the cost of those lives? —The tension became almost unbearable, each second slowing under the weight of his restrained fury—. No… you return with empty hands… and a mountain of dead bearing your name.

  The silence that followed was not a respite, but a wordless threat, a frozen abyss that made clear Marcus Starfire’s patience hung by a thread as thin as brittle ice.

  His words fell on Luna like a bucket of ice water. She felt the weight of the world crushing her, every word echoing in her mind. From above, she could feel how he watched her, how his piercing gaze fell upon her, relentless.

  The leader of the colony, with those red eyes radiating restrained fury, left her breathless. Luna wanted to explain they had not failed, that they had brought back what they desperately sought, that the sacrifice and deaths had had a purpose. But the words wouldn’t come out. They were trapped, drowned beneath the pressure of his gaze and the anguish of being unable to defend herself.

  At that very moment, as if he couldn’t feel the collapsing tension in the room, Joás handed the lamp he was holding to Eliot. With a completely carefree attitude and a mocking smile on his face, he stepped up beside Luna. Then, in a defiant tone, he addressed everyone:

  —Why so tense? I just have to refill the damn energy tank you need, and everything will be fine, right? —His voice was full of disdain, as if he didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation.

  With a gesture of indifference, his hands burst into flames. Then, with a swift movement, he stuck his tongue out at Marcus Starfire, like a mischievous child challenging a giant. The childish gesture contrasted with the overwhelming power he had just displayed, leaving those present in stunned silence before the room erupted in a flurry of astonishment and fear.

  Marcus narrowed his eyes, watching the fire dance in Joás’s hands. His voice, when he spoke, was barely a frozen whisper:

  —What the hell are you?

  Joás smiled, tilting his head in amusement.

  —Do you really want to know?

  In that instant, the flames in his hands changed color, turning a deep blue, as if the fire itself were alive, illuminating the entire room.