Axis walked through snowdrifts heavy with ice, each step an effort as his legs pushed through the snow.

He was freezing, despite the heavy cape he’d bought with him, and his arm ached from the weight of the eagle where it perched hunched and unhappy.

About him the sky hung heavy and leaden, merging with the thick fog that made the landscape to either side of the path indiscernible. Sometimes the fog shifted slightly and Axis thought he could see frozen trees, stripped bare of any life and hung only with icicles; sometimes the fog shifted slightly and he saw shapes, massive creatures almost indistinguishable from the moisture-laden air in which they lurked.

Axis moved through his own little world, pushing ever deeper into the hex. Occasionally he glanced upward, as if to see the sky.

But that was useless. The fog encased him, the snow entrapped him. There was nothing but to battle ever onward.

Isaiah had not wanted Axis to go. He had shouted and begged, arguing that this was nothing but a construct of Eleanon’s, designed to trap Axis completely within the hex, but none of it made any difference. If it was a trap, then Axis admitted himself trapped.

Borneheld was too appalling a fate to leave anyone to suffer.

Eventually Isaiah had stopped shouting and begging and had admitted Axis to the hex. Axis had taken one last long look at Isaiah’s face, seeing the sadness there, then he had turned and walked forward into the snow and ice.

It reminded Axis a little of that journey he’d made so long ago to Gorgrael’s Ice Fortress. Gorgrael had been a half-brother, too.

They had battled, too.

Faraday had been present for that, too. Well, only in spirit for the last little bit of it. Gorgrael had killed her in an effort to distract Axis.

Brothers, thought Axis. What a trial they always were.

He kept pushing through the snow and ice, heading inexorably for whatever confrontation awaited him.

This really did remind him of the journey he’d taken toward Gorgrael’s Ice Fortress.

Which brother was he destined to meet, then? One — or both?

As he kept pushing through the snowdrifts, stumbling now and again, Axis found himself remembering that journey. Faraday had been with him for much of it, sad and beautiful, concerned with her son who, at that time, Axis had not known about. She had been concerned also by what she perceived as her fate — her death at the hands of Gorgrael.

Faraday had always been so damned fatalistic.

Axis kept on striding, his eyes fixed ahead. Lost in memories of Faraday and that long ago journey.

Faraday had not completed the journey — at least, not with Axis. She had been taken by Timozel before they’d reached the Ice Fortress.

Timozel’s hand had emerged from out of the snow and ice and fog, snatching at Faraday’s ankle.

“Gotcha!” he had crowed.

“So fatalistic,” Axis murmured to himself, wiping away the frost that formed about his eyebrows and eyelashes. He pulled the hood of the cloak closer, pushing his feet and legs through the knee-high snowdrifts, remembering, remembering, remembering .

After a long, long while, Axis became aware a figure drifted along the road ahead of him.

Tall, willowy, beautiful, ethereal.

Fatalistic.

Axis looked at the eagle. You know what I require of you, my friend?

The only response Axis received was a glare from the bird.

Even if I am trapped, you will not be, Axis said to the bird.

It is the only reason I agreed to aid you, StarMan, the bird said, and Axis nodded.

Be safe, he said, and launched the bird into the air.

He waited until the eagle had vanished into the fog, then Axis set off after Inardle, lengthening his pace and pushing more forcefully through the snowdrifts.

“Inardle?” he called, as he neared.

She stopped, but did not turn to look at him, not even raising her head when finally he stood before her. Her arms were wrapped about her shoulders, her head hung low, her wings dragged in the snow behind her.

The feathers were thick with ice and Axis wondered at Inardle’s strength to be able to drag such a weight behind her.

Faint trails of old blood marred her lower back.

Axis looked at Inardle’s downcast face and his heart cracked open. He’d never seen her look like this. Never.

Inardle had given up entirely. She was lost in despair so intense and so deep that Axis did not think there could be a way out for her.

“Inardle?”

Finally, Inardle raised her face to him, gave him a long look, then she brushed past him and walked on.

“Inardle,” Axis said, catching up to her and taking one of her elbows in his hand to try and slow her down. Stars, why was she in such a hurry? “Inardle, stop, I pray you. Where are you going?”

She pulled her elbow from his grasp and took a step forward.

“Inardle!” Axis grabbed both her shoulders and wrenched her about to face him. “Where are you going? It is I, Axis.”

Finally, Inardle spoke. “It does not matter who you are,” she said. “Let me go, please. I have a marriage I am cursed to make.”

“Inardle, this is not your battle, nor your history. Eleanon has —”

“Cursed and hexed me, Axis. He has bound me with powers from which I cannot escape. Where I go now is the fate he determined for me. I am to be Borneheld’s wife.”

“You do not have to . . . Inardle, turn from this fate and come back with me.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I am lost now. I go where the lost go.”

Axis felt her move against his hands, trying to break free to continue her journey, and he tightened his grip.

“There is no need to be lost or frightened or despairing, Inardle,” he said. “You can come back with me. I remember the way.”

Even as he said it, Axis wondered if he did remember or not.

Inardle shook her head. “No. I cannot go back, nor can you now. We’re both trapped. You should not have come after me, Axis.”

“I couldn’t leave you to —”

“Why did you come, Axis?” Her voice broke on that. “For what purpose? You are dead and lost now, too. It was such a stupid thing to do.”

Then she pulled herself out of Axis’ hands and continued her sad march forward.

Axis stood in the snow, tugging his cloak tighter in the bone-numbing cold, watching Inardle draw slowly away from him, thinking about what she had said and why he was here. For what purpose was he here? To chase some long gone dream? Recreate some glorious moment so that he could . . . do what? Live again? Be purposeful again?

What did he want?

A purpose? A love? Glory?

Or was it just to save Inardle?

No, there was more to it than that. Eleanon had set the trap well. The moment Axis had known Borneheld waited inside the ice hex, he could no more have resisted the urge to enter than he could have willed himself to stop breathing.

Axis sighed, then walked after Inardle, struggling through the snow until he finally caught up with her.

She didn’t look at him.

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, and together they trudged through the snow and ice, half frozen within this strange hexed world, toward whatever awaited them.