The sun hung low behind the snowy mountains. It's light pushing weakly through the thick mist, brushing faint gold across the brick houses crowding the town. Smoke rose out of chimneys in large, hungry exhale before curling into the cold air.
Encircling it all stood massive stone walls, ancient, towering barriers that loomed over the town like silent guardians. Their surfaces worn out by time and frost.
At every crippling dawn, the only time sun may show mercy, Kenshi woke up to responsibilities heavy as a boulder. His mother never told him what to do. He does everything out of his own will. He never wishes to be a burden. He wants to contribute in the family like his father. His father was long dead. His little brother didn't cry when father couldn't return from the frontlines. Survival was life. Everyone simply knew what was needed. No one complains.
He draped himself in heavy wool. The fabric resting firm and tight on his shoulders. He took only a piece of bread for his empty stomach. Not because he needed to save rations. He could always eat more. He simply didn't wanna waste time lingering around. His mother spoke softly across the dining table, "Kenshi.. I hope you return sooner than last time." Her voice carried a warmth no fireplace could ever replace. She was a woman in her 40's. As for her appearance, she carried the kind of beauty that may come from an angel. Blue eyes like ocean framed by soft blond hair ending at her waist faintly. And as for her heart? Crystal pure.
Later on, Kenshi sat on the doorstep tightening the laces of his boots before heading out. But he was interrupted when his little brother placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder. The little boy carried what seemed to look like a fishing rod. "Big brother. You forgot this." A smile curved Kenshi's lips. Had he been daydreaming to forget something so essential? "Ah- Thanks for reminding. Kid." He brushed a hand through his sibling's hair, lingering for a moment before taking it and strapping it onto his back. He picked up the iron fish bucket by the door, he also picked up a compact, worn ice-drilling tool resting beside it. It was heavy but reliable enough to cut through even the thickest frozen layers. With everything in hand, he stood up steady and prepared.
After a warm farewell to his dear mother and sibling, he stepped out onto the cold and made his way through the town. Rows of brick houses passed behind him as he approached the towering stone walls. The great gate— thick and reinforced. It was flanked by armed guards watching over those entering and leaving. "Goh' mornin, Kenshi. Ya goin out huh?" Ren answered softly as he approached the gate, "yeahh.." They knew him of course. His father had been a soldier— the reason he died. He stepped beyond the gate and the world opened into an endless expanse of snow.
The cold pressed harder outside the safety of those walls. He pushed through mist and ice. Each one of his steps sunk slightly into the frost covered ground. His legs grew heavy with distance. His breath came out in slow and visible bursts, fading quickly into the cold air.
Eventually, the frozen lake came into view. It was a massive circular stretch of ice surrounded by frozen trees. They roof like lifeless sentinels. Most of them were long dead by now. Their brittle branches frozen in place as if time commanded them to pause. The place was mostly quiet except the sound of his own heartbeat. Most people often avoided coming here. "Lazy enough to avoid such a treasure"— Kenshi would always say. This place offered Kenshi free fishes every single day of the year.
He approached when he noticed something that made him pause slightly. A hole had already been drilled into the ice. Someone fished here recently. He exhaled quietly, a faint sense of relief settling in, "Saves me time, I guess. No need to sweat and dig a hole into that rock hard ice."
Adjusting the tools he carried, he moved toward the opening and crouched beside it. Kenshi settled his bucket down. The dark water below remained still as if waiting. He lowered the hook of his fishing rod into the depths and watched how it disappear deep into the water.
He waited, passing time as his gaze drifted lifelessly to how the clouds moved like cutton— going endlessly with nothing to stop. There was something distant and untouchable about them. Something that stirred a quiet, restless thought within him. His heart hummed a melody as he listened for the slightest tremble of his line. Focus drifted between patience and thoughts. He pondered, if continuing to lead life here was any better? Shouldn't he shift places? People die from cold every year around these lands. In a few years, would he still be seated over the lake fishing every day? Or eventually succumb to the weight of snow and graves? He never knew what lay beyond the snowy lands. "If I was a cloud then I would surely be blessed with the privilege of flying across lands and oceans— seeing the world beneath"
By the time the sun had risen higher into the sky, his thoughts were broken by a sudden tremor. The line jerked sharply which sent a shock through his gloved hands. The fibers strained to their limits with a sharp grating sound. He pulled back with surprising strength he didn't knew he had in himself. Whatever was on the other end was heavy and far more than any ordinary catch. With enough effort and persistence, he finally dragged it upward through the opening in the ice.
What he expected was— a cold fish. But what emerged was not what he expected.
In it's place hung a waterlogged tome from the line. it's rich binding swollen and darkened by the lake. Kenshi frowned as he unhooked it carefully. He examined the tome like an artifact. Turning it over in his hands before opening it. What shocked him was that it's pages were dry despite the binding being wet and drenched in cold water. He flipped through it's thick pages. They did not feel like ordinary paper at all. If had they been, they would have dissolved in the freezing water long ago. Instead, they remained intact, dry to the touch, rough like sandpaper
That was not the only shocking part either. There was nothing written on any of the pages. It was as if the book had been discarded before it had ever been used. Kenshi let out a quiet breath, "a rich kid's doing" he supposed. They were people out there somewhere who would even throw away any material if it's colour didn't match their preference. He decided he would take it with him. 'Could give it to someone'— he planned. Even something strange like this might prove useful in ways he didn't yet understand.