FREEZING SKILL

They were forced to stay in Marble Garth for one more day to give Wyn's leg some time to recover before making the trip to the Chastity Tower.

Once Marshall got tired of plucking grass and whistling random melodies, he slipped into the gazebo and took a seat next to the snow deity. 

"Can you freeze water too or is snow your limit?" the disciple inquired.

Wyn glanced up from his book, clearing his throat to give an extensive reply.

"I am working on improving the range of my abilities while honing the skills I already have acquired."

Marshall sighed, noting the formality. "So, no ice?" he teased lightly.

Wyn gave him a look of suppressed irritation, one that made it seem like he was going to pick apart the disciple with his words.

"What skill are you cultivating? Considering you cannot use your arrows without a bow, you must have at least one other way to defend yourself."

Marshall grinned, boasting. "Please, what skill am I not cultivating? I can do anything I set my mind to!"

Wyn narrowed his eyes. "Head in the clouds," he commented, going back to reading.

"Ah, come on, we're still young! Where else should my head be? Up in books?"

The disciple glanced at the cover, curious as to what the snow deity was reading. The title was covered by slender fingers, so Marshall poked them out of the way, earning an irked exhale from Wyn.

"The Art of Frost and Solidification? So you're practicing the skill of freezing water right now, eh?"

Having received no reply, Marshall shuffled around for a few moments before standing up and walking away.

Wyn looked up in suspicion at how easily the disciple had left him alone. "Where are you going?"

"I want to see how you freeze water," Marshall replied, heading towards the limestone well.

He hooked a bucket onto the rope and lowered it into the well. With a sigh, the snow deity stepped off the gazebo, following him.

Marshall flashed a sideways smile while rolling up the rope with the bucket. Clean water swayed in it, so clear that one could almost see their bright future in it.

He filled two more buckets, then sat down on the closest stone to watch.

Wyn flipped through his book with a concentrated expression, then crouched down by the first bucket. He focused the spiritual energy in the palm of his hand, directing his flow to the water.

The bucket started shaking, and Marshall stretched his neck to get a better look.

In a flash, the water shot upwards and exploded in a burst of snow.

Fuzzy and light, it landed over the snow deity, who rested his forehead in his hand with a disappointed sigh.

Meanwhile, the disciple jumped up with laughter. "Haha! That was awesome!"

He circled Wyn with glee, catching the descending snowflakes, and scooping up some snow on the ground to throw it in the air again.

The snow deity glanced at the disciple, who was covered with fluffs of snow, his dark hair resembling a broom with balls of dust stuck in it.

Once Marshall settled down, he crouched next the the second bucket as Wyn attempted to freeze the water again.

Gradually, a thin, fragile layer of ice began forming. The disciples was breathing softly, not to disturb the snow deity's concentration.

Like a jinx, Marshall's nose started itching like crazy. He shook his head, trying to stop it, but sneezed anyway. His forehead hit the rim of the bucket with a bang!

Wyn flinched, staring at Marshall as the metallic sound echoed through the field.

"Uh… my bad…" the disciple rubbed the sore spot on his forehead with a guilty grimace, almost too embarrassed to face the snow deity after screwing over his attempt.

Wyn's eyes followed Marshall, and he leaned sideways to get a better look at his face as if to make sure he didn't get hurt. But upon seeing the red line on Marshall's forehead, the composed expression cracked with suppressed laughter.

Marshall put a hand over the bruise, raising his eyebrows in mock-offense. "Oh, now you laugh? My jokes aren't funny to you, but my pain is?"

Wyn attempted to keep a straight face, but in the end he looked away with stifled amusement curling the corners of his lips up.

"Freeze the water sooner so I can put ice on my injury," Marshall quipped.

A laughing huff left the snow deity as he shook his head. "Absurd."

➳ ➳ ➳

On the day of their departure, the two left the Northern Snow Forest in the morning light, hoping to avoid any encounters with raging hordes of bloody claws and pointed horns.

Demons were most active at night, so the moment sunrise waved away the night, the hellish creatures turned into less assertive creatures. Some roamed around aimlessly until a human showed right in front of their face.

The two made it through the northern towns with no trouble. Even as they entered the city, neither demons nor residents were in sight. It was almost as if a part of it had been abandoned.

The fires had diminished, black ash stains looming over the remnants of shattered marble walls and cobblestone. Fragmented patterns of calla lily engravings peeked through dirt and burn marks. 

Neither of them said a word until they reached the Chastity Tower that stood tall like a bright needle poked in the middle of a moth-eaten fabric.

They approached the massive silver doors, and Wyn pressed his palm against them. The doors heavily slid open just a crack, but no more than that. The gap was so narrow that not even a cat could have passed through.

"You're a deity, why won't it allow you to enter?" Marshall questioned.

"A seal has been placed, forbidding anyone from passing through. They should be alerted of our presence shortly."

While they waited, Marshall's gaze swept over the deserted streets. Although the center of Sky Oriels had always leaned towards the passive and contained side, it had never been this somber, not even during the darkest hours of the night.

The disciple absentmindedly tugged at the white sleeve next to him. "How much longer do we have to wait?"

Wyn swatted his hand away. "Would you stop grabbing me?"

"I don't even grab you that much," Marshall retorted. "Bitter snowman."

The snow deity glared at the disciple, meticulously straightening his sleeve, "You grabbed me the very first time I saw you."

"I did not!" 

"Do you not recall?" Wyn held him under scrutinizing gaze, "You did so while I was working to heal the frostbite of Cheimon on your hand."

Marshall tilted his head in confusion. He had no memory of Wyn healing his hand. "Did what?"

"Dragged me down to the bed and attempted to lie down on my arm," Wyn revealed.

Marshall's mouth opened so wide that one could try fitting the moon inside. The dream about floating pillows hadn't been a dream after all!

He stammered, his hands gesturing nervously as he tried to defend himself but couldn't find the words that didn't sound like an excuse.

Before he could regain his bearings, the silver doors rumbled open.