Trinity of Magic

Zeke looked up at the clear blue sky, so different from the stormy clouds that had loomed over their great battle a week ago. Every time he saw it, he couldn’t help but sigh. It wasn’t that he disliked the weather—it simply reminded him of the scene that had unfolded on that day.

Winter, in his massive wolf form, had returned from battle, carrying his fallen rival’s rigid corpse in his jaws. He dropped it in the center of the fort, then looked up at the stormy clouds with a hint of displeasure. With a single stomp of his paw, the clouds dispersed.

In the blink of an eye, the mighty Progenitor had ended the war that had raged for months, casually dispersing the storm as well. It perfectly illustrated what kind of being Winter was. His very existence could hold up the heavens and move mountains. No obstacle was too great for someone like him.

And now, Zeke was on his way to meet such a person, having been invited to meet with the Progenitor.

It wasn’t the first time the two had met. However, during their earlier meetings, Winter had been in a state of near death, unable even to move. During those encounters, Zeke had always had the upper hand, taking the role of a savior. His help had been indispensable during those times. Yet, that was no longer the case.

With Winter back to full strength, the dynamic in their relationship had shifted, and Zeke wasn’t sure how the wolf ancestor would treat him now. Though he didn’t expect outright hostility, he knew he had to tread carefully. A being of Winter's age and strength was not someone to be taken lightly. Moreover, Winter had just lost two of his children, and Zeke couldn’t predict how he would react. Even though Frost’s death wasn’t Zeke’s fault, a parent's anger could be irrational, and it wasn’t impossible that Winter might hold him accountable for failing to protect his son at a critical moment.

With these heavy thoughts, Zeke made his way through the mountain village that served as the gateway to the tribe’s sanctum. In the week since the battle, the tribe had worked tirelessly to restore it, but signs of the war remained everywhere. The final day, when the Purebloods had fought with everything they had, had left the village particularly scarred.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zeke spotted Gravitas standing impassively at a construction site. Though she appeared idle, she was essential to the project, as building materials floated upward around her, reaching the eager hands of the tribesmen repairing nearby roofs.

Despite his heavy thoughts, Zeke chuckled at the sight. No wonder she had been so favored lately, being dragged from one location to the next.

Zeke crossed the plaza and glanced toward the far end of town, where a peculiar group had gathered. Hundreds of surviving Frostscale warriors idled in the open, their eyes hollow with despair. It was no surprise; with their progenitor lost and their fates now in the hands of their enemies, hope had faded.

Strangely, there were no guards, walls, or shackles to restrain them. They were simply gathered in an open space, without any visible restrictions. But Zeke quickly understood why. With Winter here, such measures were unnecessary. Even united, the entire army couldn’t muster the slightest resistance—or any hope of escape. All they could do was wait for their verdict and resign themselves to their fate.

Zeke looked away. He had intended to recruit as many of them as possible, but he had no way of knowing how Winter might respond to such a request. Perhaps Winter had his own plans—or maybe he had decided to kill them all. Either way, Zeke would have to accept his decision.

After a few more minutes, Zeke arrived at his destination: the town hall of the fort. It was where Winter had asked him to come. He was vaguely aware that Snow was also here somewhere, though he hadn’t seen her since that day. With his large Sphere of Awareness, he could easily find her, but he didn’t think it prudent to check on her like that.

Now that his awareness extended over such a vast area, Zeke realized it came with a new set of challenges. For one, he constantly invaded the privacy of those around him, much like accidentally peeking at a neighbor in the bathroom, but on a much larger scale. Additionally, it was impossible for him to process all that information at once; his mind simply couldn’t handle such a vast quantity of inputs. As a result, he usually relied on Akasha to monitor his spatial awareness, informing him only of anything significant.

[Notice.]

The Progenitor is waiting in the large chamber on the highest floor.

Zeke immediately made his way up the stairway. He knew the way quite well, as this was the room Frost used to stay as commander. Now, it served as his father’s temporary residence, it seemed.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Zeke soon arrived in front of the familiar wooden door, and without hesitation, he knocked.

“Come in,” a voice answered from inside.

Zeke didn’t hesitate to push open the door. However, he froze as a chilling current washed over him, penetrating his very being. It wasn’t a gust of wind; his clothes remained still, revealing that there was no airflow at all. Instead, this was the aura of the being inside the room.

His heart began to race, not by his will but as a natural reaction of his body when in the presence of a strong opponent. Gradually, sensation returned to his limbs as his own draconic aura pushed back the cold, restoring his basic functions.

Zeke furrowed his brows. Was this some sort of test?

However, the scene before him quickly dispelled that idea. Winter stood in a corner of the room, completely absorbed in what appeared to be a journal, showing no interest in Zeke whatsoever.

Zeke realized this pressure was not a test, probe, or prank; it was simply the natural aura Winter exuded without any special intent. It was no wonder Frost had often said that meeting his father was challenging. Without his draconic aura, Zeke would likely have found it nearly impossible to move in the presence of the Progenitor.

Quietly, so as not to disturb Winter, Zeke entered the room and closed the door behind him. He then waited patiently. Since the man had allowed him to enter, he was surely aware of Zeke's presence.

Instead, Zeke studied Winter's figure. This was the first time he had a good look at the Progenitor since his recovery. The man was tall—almost unnaturally so—towering over Zeke by more than a head. However, rather than being intimidating, Zeke would describe his physique as slender and delicate. Winter had an androgynous face, straddling the line between handsome and beautiful. In fact, he resembled Snow and Polaris more than he did Frost.

With an audible sigh, Winter closed the book he was reading and turned to face Zeke. The moment their eyes met, Zeke froze again—not because of anything Winter did, but from a shudder that ran down his spine. Simultaneously, a cold sweat formed on his brow, and his legs felt weak. Instinctively, he felt as though he had been targeted by a predator, a being that regarded him as prey.

However, the feeling passed quickly as Zeke managed to shake it off. He wasn’t prey, and he would not bow to this pressure! Gritting his teeth, he summoned his strength and stepped closer to Winter. The Progenitor simply watched, his expression impassive, as Zeke closed the distance between them. Finally, with only a step separating them, Zeke extended his hand.

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” Zeke said, striving to project confidence.

Winter stared at him for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought. Zeke frowned inwardly. Had he misread the situation? Had he offended the Progenitor somehow?

Eventually, the tall man extended his hand in return. When their hands touched, Zeke was hit by an icy chill like nothing he had ever experienced. He regretted offering his hand, feeling as if his entire arm might freeze off any second. Thankfully, Winter released his grip after a brief moment, appearing to recognize Zeke’s discomfort.

“The pleasure is mine, dragonling,” Winter said, his voice surprisingly deep for his slender appearance.

Zeke awkwardly retracted his hand. Only now, after Winter had released his grip, did warmth slowly return to the limb. This was insane. Even such a casual touch had nearly resulted in a serious injury. With such characteristics, it seemed almost impossible for Winter to function normally. If even Zeke had almost lost an arm from just a brief contact, he couldn't imagine what would happen if an ordinary person touched him.

Would their entire body shatter on the spot?

Zeke discarded such useless thoughts and decided to change the subject. “Why did you call for me, Lord Winter?”

Winter sighed, and his gaze went to the journal he was still holding in his other hand. “Do you recognize this?” he asked.

Zeke glanced at it, but he didn’t recall seeing the book before. It also had no title on its cover. It seemed like any other crudely bound journal.

[Notice.]

This journal contains Frost's reports on the progress of the war. Host’s achievements and contributions are also mentioned.

Zeke quickly realized that this must be a sort of activity log documenting all decisions and their outcomes. As a commander, Frost would have needed something like this to guide a potential successor in the event of his death. Now, it had fallen into Winter's hands, serving as an accurate timeline of everything that had occurred during his absence.

Seeing that Winter was still waiting for an answer, Zeke spoke up. “I know what it is.”

Winter nodded, his eyes still on the journal. “My son spoke quite highly of you. Especially towards the end.”

Zeke felt a slight sting at Winter's words. Even though Frost's death wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility. “My condolences… I… couldn’t save him in the end,” he muttered weakly.

Winter turned his gaze to Zeke, an unusual expression on his face. “My words were not meant as an accusation, dragonling. You do not need to feel burdened by his death.”

Zeke met Winter’s eyes, trying to gauge whether the Progenitor truly held him blameless. Yet, he found no trace of emotion in Winter’s gaze, as if the death of his son hadn’t affected him at all. This struck Zeke as hard to believe. The Winter he had spoken to earlier had asked him for just one thing: to keep Snow safe.

Clearly, family meant a great deal to this man. But did he truly favor Snow while disregarding his other children?

“…In the first place,” Winter continued. “I only asked you to look after Snow until I recovered. You have done more than that, as I’ve come to understand. So I owe you my thanks again.”

“There is no need, Lord Winter—”

“Just call me Winter,” the tall man interrupted. “This is not the human world, and most of us don’t overly care for such formalities.”

Zeke nodded, taking the advice to heart, before continuing, “Well then, Winter. I didn’t solely act based on our promise, but also because of my connection to Snow.”

Winter eyed him for a moment, his gaze penetrating. “That is good to hear, Dragonling. However, now I can’t help but wonder what kind of relationship you have with my daughter?”