I was recently reminded of some of the recklessness of my youth, particularly how I used to treat winter. As a child, I was so eager to play in the snow that I would rush outside wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts. It was foolish, no doubt, but it was how I learned to meet the cold, head-on and without hesitation.
Those memories resurfaced when I came across the image below. Though it didn’t feature snow directly, its title, Winter Blade, sparked ideas immediately. Combined with those childhood moments of braving the cold, a story began to form, and I followed it to see where it would lead.
Winter had a way of remembering what should have been forgotten.
Its storms returned to the same mountain passes year after year, letting snow settle into grooves carved long before any living foot had crossed them. Neither the mountains nor the spirits forgot blood spilled upon distant stone. They remembered vows spoken into the whipping wind just as clearly, holding those echoes patiently, waiting for the next soul bound to listen.
The Devourer had walked these heights for generations, wearing the storm as its herald. Villages learned to read the signs of its approach—false howls carried on the wind, frost creeping against the cold, fires dimming without reason. Yet knowing the signs had never been enough. Each time the creature rose from the cold, a Frostborne answered the call, carrying a blade meant to end the cycle. Each time, the mountains endured, unchanged.
Tonight, the storm returned once more, circling higher and tighter than before. Snow erased old tracks and made room for new ones, as if the land itself were preparing for a reckoning long overdue.
As the wind roared through the shattered mountain peaks, it created a sound like competing packs of wolves howling for dominance. Snow filled the air, dropping from the clouds in restless circles around the figure standing on the cliff’s edge. She was the only fleck of color adorning the snow-topped mountains. Her crimson cloak whipped behind her like knives striking unseen targets.
Seren rested her hands on the hilt of her sword, the Winter Blade. Even held in its scabbard, the glowing icy blue of the blade seeped out from its confinement, pulsing like a heartbeat. She withdrew her left hand and grasped the medallion hanging from her neck. In the center of the unadorned round brass pendant, a small blue gem pulsed with power.
Despite the medallion’s simplicity, it bore the only enchantment that allowed her lineage to wield the Winter Blade. If anyone grabbed the sword without wearing the pendant, the blade’s enchantment would turn the wielder into a statue made of ice. She released the medallion and filled her lungs.
She peered over the edge of the trail beneath her. The world stretched out, filled with jagged ridges and icy ravines. As more false howls ripped through the world, the frost and shadow beneath her pulled back, revealing the Devourer. A tremor rolled through the stone beneath her boots. With a devilish grin, she gripped the blade’s hilt and leapt from the cliff. She fell ten feet, landing in a pile of snow on the ledge below.
Seren drew the pulsing blade and stared at red eyes within the swirling mist of snow. She swept the slender steel sword through the air, bringing it to rest parallel to the stone. As snow fell upon her hair and the glowing enchanted steel, Seren held her breath as she adjusted her stance.
“Your time is over.” Seren’s hips lowered as her off-hand gripped the hilt of her second sword. “I’ll finish what my mother couldn’t.”
As if summoned by her vow, a fresh roar emerged from the mist of snow and red eyes. Snow exploded as a massive shape clawed its way into the waning daylight. The monstrous form was a mass of fur, muscles, and ice. The thing’s ribs curved inwards like glaciers, amplifying the menace of the creature’s broad shoulders. As the snow vanished behind it, the thing’s red eyes intensified as frost spread in a web across the stone, sealing cracks and swallowing color.
Seren lifted the Winter Blade, and its blue light banished the encroaching frost. The creature paused, cocking its head as its shadow fell upon her like the descending night, despite the light coming from her sword.
“You’re Frostborne.” The creature’s voice rumbled, dislodging snow clinging to the rocky surfaces. “Another child has come to die?”
Seren steadied her breath and pulled the second sword from its scabbard. “You may have killed some of my ancestors, but you won’t find me as easy to kill as them.”
The creature’s laugh reminded Seren of an avalanche. The monster bared its teeth as the predatory mouth curled into a horrific smile. “Your mother said much the same thing. Despite your trinkets, enchanted to find the next member of your line, her warmth was… delectable.”
Seren reached up and clutched the medallion. The cold metal bit into her flesh as its stone dug into her palm. Warmth surged through the gem, forcing its way into her hand. The wind whipped past her ears, and through it came her mother’s whispers. Her eyes widened as memories cut through the tempest. Seren released the pendant and gripped her weapons. Her jaw tightened and her eyes hardened, becoming colder than the air enveloping her.
For a moment, grief battled with anger as Seren’s chest tightened. After several stilted heartbeats, she tightened her grip on both weapons. Drawing in a breath, she widened her stance. “I’m more skilled than my mother.”
The Devourer laughed before it lunged, its talons carving trenches through the stone. But Seren leapt aside, driving the Winter Blade across its hind legs as she drew the second blade. In the same motion, she slammed the mundane sword into the beast’s side. Another howl ripped through the air, rattling the nearby rocks and sending snow out in every direction.
Pain split her shoulder when the monster’s tail clipped her, sending her skidding across the ice. As she rose from her knees, she slammed the tip of the Winter Blade into the ground, and frost spread beneath her feet. Her gaze dropped to the blade sticking out of the beast’s side.
Despite the frost covering its legs, the Devourer charged again.
Seren waited, certainty filling her eyes. As it neared, she sidestepped the creature, grabbing her sword and forcing it through the beast’s side. The Devourer stopped and whirled around, only to have Seren slam the Winter Blade into its heart.
Light erupted from the beast’s wound. The ridge vibrated when the wind hushed. A moment later the brilliance faded, revealing a misshapen corpse beneath her. She stooped and grabbed the hilt, but when she tried to remove the Winter Blade, it wouldn’t budge.
When she released the sword, the body sank into the stone. Seren rose and stared at the bare spot long after the Devourer vanished. She wiped her mundane blade before re-sheathing it. As she watched snow reclaim the barren and unmarked grave, she gripped her wounded shoulder, feeling the blood flowing down her arm.
Following the mountain’s consumption of the Devourer, Seren surveyed the aftermath. Her mother’s laughter would not echo across these peaks again. The burden had passed to Seren alone now, as it always had. She exhaled, letting the weight settle about her. Seren sagged to her knees, breathless, trembling, yet victorious.
After generations of failure, her family had been avenged. Warmth flickered across the horizon for the first time since the loss of her mother. Somehow, everything seemed brighter and less desolate than it had before she’d found the Devourer.