Skadi

Skadi trailed Harvin and Tovan out of the cramped armory, the recycled air biting colder now that she was hyperaware of the weight strapped across her back. The rifle's sling cut into her shoulder, every step whispering reminders that this was real. That she was doing this, not just skulking around the edges anymore.

They rounded a corner, the corridor broadening near a structural junction where support beams crisscrossed overhead. That's where Fenrik found her.

He stepped out from a side hall, boots scuffing the metal deck. His eyes flicked past Harvin and Tovan, then locked on her, shadowed by something tight and raw.

"Give us a minute," Fenrik said.

Harvin shrugged, unconcerned, while Tovan snorted something under his breath about prima donnas. They moved on. Leaving Skadi with Fenrik, who waited until they were well out of earshot before speaking.

"You sure about this?" he asked. His voice was low, rough. "Heard Nika was pulling together a core team for the warehouse job. That doesn't have to be you."

Skadi bristled, jaw setting. "Why wouldn't it be?"

He didn't answer at first. Just searched her face with that same haunted look that always made her feel both protective and furious. Like he was the one wounded, like he still carried every sin in his marrow.

"I'm worried," Fenrik said finally. "You told me what it's like. Letting them pull pieces out of you until there's nothing left that's yours. I know because I did it. I let Karn fill all my hollow places with his pretty stories of evolution and sacrifice. Thought it would make things better. Stronger. All it did was take."

His hand hovered, then settled lightly on her arm. Warm. Too gentle. It grated at her in a way she couldn't name.

"I already lost one part of my family to that kind of lie," he said. "I don't want to lose you too."

It should've cracked something in her. Should've made her reconsider, like it had in the breakroom that first night, when she'd gone to him desperate for some echo of who she'd been. But now it just twisted the cold deeper.

"You lost her because you let Karn in," Skadi said, voice sharper than frostbite. "You lost her because you were weak."

Fenrik flinched, pain flashing across his features before he could hide it.

"Skadi—"

"No," she cut in, pulling her arm from his grip. "Don't. I'm not making your mistakes. I know exactly what I'm doing."

She stepped back. The distance settled like armor around her shoulders.

Fenrik's shoulders slumped. "I just want you to come back the same."

A bitter smile tugged at her mouth. "That's the thing, Fenrik. I'm not the little girl you remember. She died out there, on the ice. With our mother."

She left him there, standing small beneath the shadowed beams, while she turned and followed the corridor toward the waiting team.

She caught up to the others near the main access hub, a broad open space that still bore the scars of old firefights. Patch-welded holes, scorched walls, a tangle of conduits overhead that whined when the fans cycled. Nika stood with Harvin, Tovan, and two others Skadi hadn't met, bent over a flickering portable console that threw jittery light across their faces.

As Skadi stepped into the circle, Harvin's eyes narrowed. Tovan didn't even bother to hide his frown. But Nika straightened, her expression smoothing into something measured, a leader already calibrating how best to deploy her weapon.

"Alright," Nika began. "Since our last outing didn't exactly tie up the way we hoped, we're going after something a bit more vital this time."

She tapped a line on the schematic. A warehouse layout flared to life, boxes of text and rotating security overlays that Skadi couldn't parse.

"Haven's got a stockpile here. Food, water, oxygen tanks. Even basic medical. It's not enough to rebuild Isvann on its own, but it'll keep the Hold breathing through the next month, maybe two, and buy us more time to get the geothermal system fully stable. The catch is: since everything fell apart, Haven's local supply chains are a mess. The logistics corps is fighting with their own oversight. Nobody wants to be the one responsible for shortages."

"So we're taking advantage of the confusion," Harvin said, arms folded over his chest.

"Exactly." Nika's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "We get in, we liberate what we can, we get out before anyone realizes it was us, or before they care enough to stop pointing fingers and send a proper response."

"And if Haven CorpSec does show?" Tovan asked.

Nika's look darkened. "We're prepared. We avoid a stand-up fight if we can. But Haven's been re-equipping some of their squads with magitech. If it comes to that…" Her gaze slid to Skadi. "That's why we have an edge they're not expecting."

Skadi didn't react. She kept her hands loose at her sides, her breath even. But inside, the frost curled tighter.

A tool. A piece of leverage. At least this time it was a purpose she could claim. Haven was still the knife at their throats, at the entire system's throat. If her magic made her monstrous, then let it be Haven who learned that fear.

Nika's hand brushed her shoulder in passing, a quiet pressure. "Stick close. Make it count."

They moved out in a tight cluster, boots striking metal walkways that twisted through the underbelly of Isvann's half-lit sectors.

Pipes rattled overhead, old recirc fans struggling to push stale air. Now and then, distant voices drifted down from higher levels. Laughter, arguments, the brittle edge of people trying to pretend the world hadn't changed.

Nika led at a steady pace, every step measured. Harvin and Tovan fell into a practiced rhythm at her flanks, checking corners with the restless tension of men who'd done this too many times to count. Skadi kept close behind, feeling the weight of their glances on her. Even Fenrik's earlier worry couldn't cling here. The momentum carried her.

They slipped past the last security grate, its locking mechanisms long seized and rusted through, the signs of Haven's neglect evident. Beyond it, the corridors widened, ceilings arching into old industrial vaults where faded Haven insignias still clung to the walls.

They were closer now. The warehouse lay ahead, crouched behind automated doors and aging sensor banks, just another piece of corporate machinery meant to keep people like them hungry.

They rounded the last bend. Just ahead, the corridor widened into a short antechamber before the heavy warehouse hatch. A single guard stood posted, rifle slung low, posture bored, the way people got after too many hours without anything to shoot at.

Nika held up a hand. The group froze, half-pressed into the shadowed curve of the wall. They waited. Watched.

It stayed quiet. Just one.

Nika eased her sidearm back into its holster. Her hand dropped to the knife at her thigh instead. She shot Harvin a look that said stay, and then slipped forward, silent as ground frost spreading across steel.

The guard didn't notice until it was too late. Nika moved like water, hand clamping over his mouth as the blade punched up beneath his ribs. He stiffened, twitched once. Then went limp. Nika lowered him carefully to the ground.

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But a scrape of boots echoed from around the corner. Another guard emerging, brow already creasing at the sight of Nika crouched over his friend.

Shit.

His rifle swung up, mouth opening on a shout. Before he could breathe it out, Skadi's instincts snapped taut. Frost flared across her skin, raced out in a violent arc. It struck the man square in the chest. He froze, literally, mid-motion, a statue of wide eyes and frostbitten surprise.

He didn't move. Didn't breathe. A second later, cracks spidered across his form, delicate white on blue. Skadi's heart seized.

Her mother's face flashed behind her eyes, crystalline and empty. Splintering.

She staggered back, pulse thundering in her throat. The corridor felt too small, the air too thin. She wanted to run. To claw at the frost inside her and tear it out by the roots.

But Nika's hand clapped onto her shoulder. The older woman's grip was firm, her voice low with grim approval.

"Good reflexes. Could've gone loud real quick otherwise."

Skadi didn't answer. Couldn't. She just nodded, once, short and sharp, eyes fixed on the frozen corpse as the others moved past to secure the hatch.

The cracks in the guard's body were still spreading, tiny fractures racing out like the memory lodged in her chest, the one that would never quite thaw.

Harvin popped open the small hatch beside the door's primary lock panel, his breath fogging inside his helmet. A snarl of insulated cables spilled out. He cursed under his breath, yanked a connector from the pouch on his belt, and started stripping insulation with quick, practiced motions.

Skadi hovered near the edge of the corridor, eyes sweeping the gloom. Every so often, her frost whispered out across the floor in thin spiderwebs before she pulled it back, an unconscious reflex. She hated how easy it was. How natural.

Behind her, Nika muttered into her comm. "Tala, we're set."

A soft crackle, then Tala's voice poured in, her tone smooth, almost lazy. "Receiving. Patch is clean. Gimme a sec."

Seconds stretched. Skadi could hear her own pulse. The corridor beyond the door stayed dark, motionless, but the silence felt loaded, like somewhere deeper in the Hold, another shoe was waiting to drop.

Nika shifted her weight, one hand on her sidearm. "Tala…"

"I know," Tala cut in, a faint edge undercutting the usual amusement. "They layered redundancies, more than I expected. Someone's been busy since last time. Keep your pants on."

Harvin gave a dry huff. "That supposed to be comforting?"

No answer. Just the low hiss of static, the faint clack of keys on Tala's end filtering through.

More seconds. Nika's jaw worked, clearly chewing on the prospect of ordering a fallback. Skadi didn't want that. Didn't want to go back empty-handed, to face the restless gnaw in her chest that only these missions seemed to dull.

Then the lock light flickered. Once. Twice. Settled on green.

Tala's exhale burst through the channel like she'd been holding it back. "There. Told you I had it."

Nika didn't look reassured. But she gave a tight nod, gesturing Harvin forward. "Move."

Skadi fell in behind them, ice crawling under her skin in slow, eager pulses.

The warehouse stretched cavernous and dim, ranks of crates stacked nearly to the ceiling. The resistance crew fanned out in practiced formation, Nika pointing Harvin and Tovan toward the rows marked for ration stores. Skadi trailed after them, her breath fogging faintly in the chill that clung to her even here.

Then her comm pinged. A private channel. Tala.

"Gotta say," Tala drawled, voice soft in Skadi's ear, "you're making quite the reputation for yourself out there."

Skadi's grip tightened on her borrowed rifle. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, not you, exactly," Tala amended, casual as if discussing local gossip. "Though the Red Stripes can't stop whispering about their new icebreaker. No, I mean your old friend. The kitsune."

Skadi's jaw clenched. "What about her."

"Word filtering up from half a dozen Holds. Scav crews getting jumped or driven off by something they're calling a fox-spirit. Stories say she skims over the snow like a ghost, tears through rigs, leaves the unlucky ones half-frozen from fear alone."

Tala paused, like she was savoring the effect. "Can't imagine why she'd be out there, poking at every salvage op that crosses her path. Makes people nervous, you know? Makes them wonder what she's hunting for."

Skadi tried to force down the twist in her gut. The image of Akiko, drifting between Holds, trailing chaos in her wake, wasn't hard to conjure. Hadn't it always been that way? Even before Haven's presence in the sky fell, before Karn, before everything cracked open.

She ground her teeth. "Then maybe people should stay out of her way."

Tala hummed. "Maybe. Or maybe they should be a little more proactive. Before she brings the next firestorm down on all our heads."

The line went quiet after that. Skadi stood there a moment longer, pulse hammering. She didn't notice the frost creeping out from her boots until one of the resistance crew cursed, skidding back from the thin film racing across the floor.

She pulled it in with a breath, slow and ragged. Let the cold coil deeper, where it couldn't show.

And then she moved on, rifle low, shadows swallowing her up between the rows of crates.

One instant Skadi was weaving between stacked crates, half-listening to Harvin and Tovan muttering over ration manifests. The next, shouted orders cracked through the air, and blue-white lights flared across the shadowed rows.

"Drop it! Hands where I can see!"

Magitech shields bloomed into layered arcs ahead of a squad in crisp HavenCorp armor. The lead officer swept a sleek mana rifle up, barrel locking on Nika as she pivoted.

Skadi dropped low behind a crate as fire ripped through the aisle, searing bolts of condensed mana that sent Harvin and Tovan scrambling. Nika's shout tore through the comms.

"Tala! Where the fuck was the warning?"

A sharp crackle, then Tala's voice, strained but still maddeningly detached. "They ghosted every sensor I had on the approach. These new magitech rigs… I told you, Haven's getting clever. I'm trying to break their comm sync, just hold—"

"Hold?" Harvin's snarl spat static. "They're punching through our cover like paper!"

Another bolt sliced past, scoring molten lines in the crates behind them. Dry goods vaporized, air filling with scorched chemical tang.

Skadi's heart slammed against her ribs. The frost at her feet thickened, spiderwebbing out in long hungry lines. Her breath came in puffs of mist.

Then, movement: a flicker near the edge of her vision. Two more Haven soldiers, circling to flank. Their shields flared as they spotted her, rifles rising.

Skadi didn't think. She pulled. Water shuddered in the massive holding drums stacked near the far wall. It answered her like it had been waiting, bursting from pressure seams in snarling streams. Frost blossomed instantly, claws of ice that raked across the polished floor.

The Haven troops spun to adjust, but the water surged faster, swirling into a lashing wall that slammed into their shields. Runes flared in counter. Bright, intricate patterns that sizzled against the liquid mass.

Then it turned to steam, hissing through the ranks, forcing them back as visibility broke.

"Nice trick," Nika's voice cut in, rough and tight with adrenaline. "Keep it up. They're pinned for now, but I don't like how organized they are."

Skadi swallowed, her throat raw, the taste of mana sharp on her tongue. She could feel the cold sun of her power blazing overhead in the dark within, distant and vast, pulling at her every thought.

"They won't stay pinned long," she rasped.

Nika's reply was grim. "Then we buy every second we can. Tala's hunting for an exit. Make them bleed for every inch."

The shift happened fast.

One of the Haven soldiers braced, a sleek device snapping out from under his rifle. Something between a launcher and a dart-gun, inscribed with tight glowing runes. He aimed straight at her.

A sharp thump cracked the air.

Pain flared as a hooked projectile struck her shoulder plate and buried into the seam of her armor. Runes bloomed along its shell, cold and hungry. They spread over her in an instant, lines of harsh light crawling across her chest, up her throat.

Her magic collapsed inward. It was like being snapped inside out. Frost turned to stillness, breath locked tight. Her lungs spasmed. She tried to draw, to pull, but nothing answered. The air was just air. The water in the drums was silent. Her hands shook, empty and weak.

Skadi staggered, fell hard to one knee, scraping across the frozen slick she'd made. The world wavered at the edges, darkening under a crushing, smothering pressure.

Just like Vehrin's suppressor.

Helpless. Worthless.

Not again. She clawed inside herself for anything. For the star that was her mana, for the biting promise of ice. But the lines of suppression only burned brighter, locking tighter.

And then…

Something deep below her stirred. More than the shallow trickle of pipes or warehouse drums. Deeper. Through the cracked decking, the fractured stone. Deeper still, under miles of frozen earth and iron bones.

There, a pulse. Slow. Vast. Alive. Her mind blurred. The warehouse vanished.

She stood on black glass, staring up at something immense. Something vast loomed above her, a living moon of turbulent water, glowing from within, beating with a rhythm that thrummed through her bones. The ice under her feet sang in answer.

It was beautiful. Terrifying. But it was also… scarred.

Wounds streaked its surface in bright, searing blue-white in contrast to the darker hues of its storms. Blue that was too bright, too wild, dancing like foxfire.

Her breath hitched. Rage and sorrow welled up, tangling in her chest.

Akiko. Even here?

Then… warmth. A weight settled behind her, gentle arms curling around her shoulders. Her mother's voice, not words but memory, a promise of closeness. A whisper that said you are still mine.

Above, the sphere resonated. It was not a mind as she understood it. But it recognized her.

Daughter of ice. Descendant of frost and pressure. Born of the moon's breath and burden.

The suppression runes on her chest flickered. Cracked. Her aura swelled, lurching outward like a tide breaking through rotted wood. Frost ripped across the ground in hungry spirals, swallowing the glow of the suppression. The hooked device at her shoulder fractured under the surge, falling away in brittle shards.

Skadi gasped. Cold exploded out of her, lashing across the warehouse floor. It caught the nearest Haven squad in an instant. Their shields flared, then failed, ice crawling up legs and arms, locking them in grotesque half-steps. The second wave stumbled back, shouting, trying to recalibrate as the frost spidered up their boots.

"Move!" Nika's voice cracked through the comm, ragged with relief. "Out! Now!"

Skadi rose. Frost curled from her skin like breath. Her heart thundered, not entirely her own. And as she sprinted after Nika and the others, the echo of what she had seen pulsed one last time through her veins, leaving a hollow promise:

This was never just yours to bear.

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