The screams came from the forest just as the moon turned red.
Elias Crowe stopped in the middle of the frozen trail, his hand tightening around the handle of his axe.
The wind roaring across the fjord suddenly felt wrong.
Too sharp.
Too alive.
The people of Frosthaven had locked themselves inside their longhouses before the eclipse began.
Old stories warned that nothing good walked beneath a blood moon.
But those cries were not from beasts.
They were babies.
Elias cursed under his breath and pushed deeper into the woods.
Snow cracked beneath his boots as the red light of the eclipse spilled between the ancient trees.
The farther he walked, the quieter the world became.
Even the ravens had stopped calling.
Then he saw them.
Two newborns lay beneath the giant oak at the center of the sacred grove.
Their tiny bodies were wrapped in rough blankets already dusted with snow.
Their pale faces glowed under the crimson sky.
And their hair was white.
Not silver from age.
White like fresh winter frost.
One of the babies opened his eyes.
Ice blue.
Not human blue.
Something colder.
Something ancient.
Elias felt his stomach tighten.
Behind him, branches snapped.
Old Marta appeared from the darkness with several villagers carrying torches.
Fear filled every face the moment they saw the children.
Marta nearly dropped her staff.
The eclipse has marked them.
The blacksmith crossed himself quickly.
Leave them here.
Before it spreads.
Elias looked down at the babies again.
They had stopped crying.
The little girl stared straight at him as if she already knew him.
The villagers backed away.
Nobody wanted to get close.
Fifteen winters earlier, Elias had buried his wife and sons after southern raiders burned their ship on the open sea.
Since then, he had lived like a ghost inside Frosthaven.
Fighting.
Hunting.
Surviving.
Nothing more.
But standing there beneath the blood moon, something inside him cracked open again.
They are children, Elias said.
Marta stepped forward, her voice shaking.
Those are not children.
The old blood runs through them.
Iceborn.
A cold gust ripped through the grove hard enough to extinguish half the torches.
The babies never flinched.
Elias bent down and lifted them into his arms.
The boy immediately grabbed his wrist with shocking strength.
The villagers gasped.
If you bring them home, Marta warned, you bring ruin to all of us.
Elias stared at the frightened faces around him.
Then ruin can come for me first.
He carried the twins out of the grove while the eclipse slowly faded behind the mountains.
Nobody tried to stop him.
But nobody followed him either.
By morning, every soul in Frosthaven knew what he had done.
And every soul feared him for it.
The years passed like storms over black water.
The boy became known as Rowan Crowe.
The girl became Freya.
By the time they turned fifteen, nobody in Frosthaven could ignore how different they were.
Rowan stood taller than most grown warriors, lean and sharp-eyed with pale hair braided down his back.
He trained harder than anyone in the village and learned faster than Elias could teach him.
Sometimes too fast.
Freya was quieter.
That frightened people even more.
Animals followed her through the woods.
Storms shifted without warning whenever her mood darkened.
More than once she spoke about visitors before ships even appeared on the horizon.
The villagers whispered behind closed doors.
Curse children.
Frost blood.
Monsters.
But nobody dared say it directly to Elias Crowe.
Not after all these years.
One cold morning, Rowan trained behind the longhouse while snow drifted across the yard in slow spirals.
Elias circled him carefully with a wooden practice axe.
Again.
Rowan attacked instantly.
Too fast.
The impact nearly ripped the weapon from Elias’s hand.
Good, Elias muttered.
But your anger still leads you.
Rowan lowered the axe, breathing hard.
The southern clans are raiding farther north every season.
Sooner or later they will come here.
And when they do, Elias replied, rage will get you killed before any enemy does.
Freya stepped outside carrying water buckets.
The moment she looked toward the sea, she froze.
The color drained from her face.
Elias noticed immediately.
What is it.
She whispered slowly.
Ships.
The warning horn exploded across Frosthaven seconds later.
Three long blasts.
Raiders.
Villagers poured from their homes in panic.
Warriors rushed for weapons while mothers dragged children indoors.
Elias climbed the ridge overlooking the harbor and felt dread settle deep into his chest.
Eight longships cut through the icy water.
Black sails.
Wolf banners.
The Blood Fang clan.
The most brutal raiders in the north.
At the front stood a giant armored figure gripping a massive hammer.
Bjorn Varg.
The Butcher of the Southern Fjords.
Elias had heard stories for years.
Entire villages burned.
Children chained.
Survivors skinned alive as warnings.
And now Bjorn had come to Frosthaven.
Marta appeared beside Elias, breathing heavily.
This is because of them.
Elias ignored her.
Get everyone behind the inner walls.
The old woman grabbed his arm.
You still do not understand.
Bjorn is not here for silver or food.
He is here for the twins.
Elias finally turned toward her.
How could he even know they exist.
Marta looked terrified.
Because others like them once ruled the frozen north.
Long before our people arrived.
The old blood was never fully gone.
A horn echoed from the harbor below.
The raiders were landing.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Flaming arrows streaked through the air.
Villagers screamed.
Steel clashed against steel.
Elias sprinted back toward his home while Rowan and Freya armed themselves inside.
You stay here, Elias ordered.
Rowan grabbed his sword.
I can fight.
No.
Freya stepped closer.
Father…
Something is happening.
The room had grown colder.
Frost crawled slowly across the wooden walls.
Elias saw it too.
His blood turned to ice.
For years he had ignored the signs.
Pretended the stories were only fear and superstition.
Now he was no longer sure.
The front gates shattered outside.
Raiders poured into Frosthaven like wolves into a sheep pen.
Elias gripped Rowan’s shoulder hard.
Barricade the doors.
Protect your sister.
No matter what happens, do not come outside.
He left before they could argue.
Outside, the village had become hell.
Homes burned beneath black smoke.
Villagers fought desperately in the snow.
Bjorn Varg moved through the slaughter like a monster from legend, crushing warriors with his hammer one after another.
Elias charged into the battle with a roar.
His axe buried itself into a raider’s throat.
Another swung at him from the side.
Elias split the man’s skull before he could strike.
But there were too many.
Everywhere he looked, Frosthaven was falling.
Then he heard Freya scream.
Elias spun toward the longhouse.
Three raiders had broken through the front door.
His heart nearly stopped.
He sprinted through the snow, cutting down anyone in his path.
But he was too far away.
Inside the longhouse, Rowan stood between the raiders and his sister.
One raider laughed at the pale-haired boy.
Then the room suddenly went silent.
The fire died instantly.
Ice spread across the floor.
The raider’s smile vanished.
Rowan lifted his sword.
Frost exploded along the blade.
Freya raised her trembling hands as snow began swirling around her inside the house itself.
The temperature dropped so fast the wooden beams cracked.
The raiders stumbled backward in terror.
And outside, Bjorn Varg slowly turned toward the longhouse.
His eyes widened.
As if he had been waiting his entire life for this moment.
Bjorn Varg smiled for the first time that day.
Not the smile of a man winning a battle.
The smile of a hunter finally finding his prey.
Snow whipped violently around the longhouse as the giant warlord pushed through the burning village.
His men backed away from him nervously, unwilling to get close to the unnatural cold pouring from the building.
Inside, Rowan could barely breathe.
The icy power surging through his body felt alive.
Hungry.
The raiders on the floor struggled to stand, their armor covered in frost.
Freya trembled beside him, pale light glowing faintly in her eyes.
Neither of them understood what was happening.
But deep inside, something ancient had awakened.
The front door exploded inward.
Bjorn ducked beneath the shattered frame and stepped into the frozen room.
He looked enormous up close.
His fur cloak dripped melted snow onto the floor, and scars covered every inch of his face.
Yet even he seemed cautious now.
So the stories were true, Bjorn muttered.
Elias burst through the doorway seconds later, blood staining his axe and armor.
He immediately stepped between the twins and the warlord.
You want blood, then take mine.
Bjorn laughed softly.
You still do not understand, old wolf.
I did not sail north for your village.
His eyes locked onto Rowan and Freya.
I came for them.
Outside, Frosthaven burned.
Screams echoed through the night while snow and ash fell together from the sky.
Elias tightened his grip on the axe.
Why.
Bjorn lowered his hammer slowly.
Because they are not human.
The words hit like a blade to the chest.
Freya stepped backward.
Rowan shook his head.
That is impossible.
Bjorn’s grin widened.
Fifteen years ago, during the Blood Eclipse, a child was born among the Iceborn hidden beneath the northern glaciers.
Twins.
The first pureblood heirs in centuries.
Marta entered the doorway behind Elias, her face filled with dread.
He speaks the truth.
Elias looked at her in disbelief.
You knew.
The old woman nodded weakly.
Long ago, the Iceborn ruled these lands before humans drove them into the frozen wastes.
Most died.
The survivors vanished beneath the glaciers.
But every generation, they searched for the children spoken of in prophecy.
Freya stared at Marta with tears forming in her eyes.
Then why did our parents abandon us.
Marta looked away.
Because your birth meant war.
Silence filled the frozen room.
Then Bjorn spoke again.
Your real father was king of the Iceborn.
He made a bargain with southern clans years ago.
In exchange for peace, the children would be surrendered after their powers awakened.
Elias felt sick.
You sold children.
Bjorn shrugged.
Peace always costs blood.
Rowan’s hands shook with rage.
Frost spread farther across the walls.
They left us to die.
No, Marta whispered.
Your mother saved you.
Everyone turned toward her.
The old woman swallowed hard.
She escaped during the eclipse and hid you beneath the sacred tree, hoping the spirits would guide someone merciful enough to protect you.
Her eyes shifted toward Elias.
And they did.
Freya covered her mouth, tears freezing against her skin.
For fifteen years, Elias had been the only father they knew.
The only person who had ever truly protected them.
Bjorn slammed his hammer against the frozen floor.
Enough.
The entire building shook.
Come willingly, and I spare whoever survives this village.
Elias stepped forward immediately.
No.
Bjorn sighed almost sadly.
Then everyone dies.
The warlord attacked without warning.
His hammer crashed into Elias with terrifying force, throwing him across the room into a wooden pillar hard enough to splinter it apart.
Freya screamed.
Rowan charged.
His frozen blade collided with Bjorn’s hammer in an explosion of ice shards.
The impact blasted both of them backward.
Bjorn laughed again.
Good.
Finally some fight.
Outside, the storm intensified unnaturally fast.
The sky darkened.
Snow fell in violent waves.
The twins could feel it now.
Something calling to them from far beyond the mountains.
The glaciers.
The Iceborn.
Rowan attacked again, faster this time.
Every strike left frozen cracks in the floorboards.
Bjorn blocked most of the blows, but even the giant warlord was slowing under the spreading cold.
Freya rushed to Elias.
Blood covered his chest.
His breathing sounded wet.
Father…
Elias grabbed her wrist weakly.
Listen to me.
Tears streamed down her face.
Do not leave us.
His tired eyes softened.
You were never monsters.
Another crash shook the house.
Bjorn grabbed Rowan by the throat and hurled him across the room like a rag doll.
The young warrior slammed into the wall hard enough to crack the wood.
Pain exploded through his body.
Bjorn raised the hammer for the killing blow.
Then Freya stood up.
The air changed instantly.
Every flame in the longhouse died.
Snow began swirling around her in a massive spiral as her glowing eyes turned completely white.
Bjorn finally looked uncertain.
Freya lifted one trembling hand.
The entire room froze solid.
Ice erupted from the floor and wrapped around Bjorn’s legs, locking the giant warlord in place.
He roared with fury, muscles straining against the frozen prison.
Freya screamed as power ripped through her body like fire beneath her skin.
Outside, the storm became a blizzard.
Raiders across Frosthaven stopped fighting and stared upward in terror.
The sea itself began freezing near the harbor.
Marta fell to her knees.
The prophecy…
Rowan slowly rose from the broken wall.
He could feel Freya losing control.
If she kept channeling the power, it would consume her completely.
Bjorn shattered one leg free from the ice.
You cannot stop what is coming, girl.
Rowan saw the hammer rising again.
Without thinking, he threw himself forward.
The frozen sword pierced straight through Bjorn’s chest.
The warlord froze mid-motion.
Shock spread across his scarred face.
Then the ice exploded through his body from the inside out.
Bjorn Varg collapsed to the floor in silence.
Dead.
For one brief second, everything stopped.
Then the remaining raiders outside began screaming in panic.
Their invincible leader was gone.
The survivors fled toward the ships.
Some never reached them.
The sea ice cracked beneath their feet, swallowing men whole into black freezing water.
Inside the longhouse, Freya collapsed.
The storm outside instantly weakened.
Rowan caught her before she hit the floor.
Her skin felt ice cold.
Too cold.
Elias dragged himself toward them despite the blood pouring from his wounds.
Freya opened her eyes weakly.
I heard them.
Who, Elias whispered.
The others.
Fear entered Rowan’s face.
The Iceborn.
Freya nodded slowly.
They know where we are now.
A deep silence settled over the ruined village as dawn slowly approached.
Frosthaven had survived.
Barely.
Bodies filled the snow outside.
Homes still smoldered beneath the pale morning light.
Survivors wandered through the destruction searching for loved ones.
But nobody looked at the twins the same way anymore.
Not with fear alone.
Now there was awe too.
And something worse.
Expectation.
Marta stood near the doorway watching the distant mountains.
This was only the beginning.
Elias slowly stood despite the pain tearing through his chest.
Then we face whatever comes next together.
Freya looked at him carefully.
Even after learning what we are.
Elias placed a trembling hand against her cheek.
You are my children.
Nothing changes that.
For the first time since the battle began, Freya smiled.
Small.
Broken.
But real.
Outside, Rowan stared toward the frozen horizon where endless glaciers waited beyond the sea.
Somewhere out there, an entire forgotten civilization had awakened.
And they were coming.
Not for conquest.
Not for revenge.
For their king and queen.
The Eclipse Twins had finally revealed themselves to the world.
And the age of ice had begun.
