Chapter 129: They’ve got their eyes on it

“Sleep.”

Freya’s voice came from beside her.

“Okay.”

Lya closed her eyes, but her heart was still pounding.

A long time passed—so long that Lya thought Freya had already fallen asleep. Then she spoke softly.

“Boss.”

“Yeah.”

“Those wolves today… was it you who drove them away?”

Freya paused for a moment.

“No. I just made them understand that someone here they couldn’t afford to mess with.”

Lya opened her eyes and turned her head to look at Freya’s profile outlined by moonlight.

“Then will they come back?”

“I don’t know.”

Lya fell silent.

She turned her head back and stared at the ceiling. After a long while, she said, “Boss, whether they come or not, I’ll protect you.”

Freya didn’t answer. But Lya knew she heard.

Outside the window, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, bathing the entire room in silver white light.

From somewhere far away, a wolf’s howl echoed—long, lonely, as if calling for something, or warning of something.

The next morning, Freya was awakened by a sharp sting at her heart.

It wasn’t the dull ache she had felt before, but something clearer, like a needle lightly probing her heart meridian.

She opened her eyes. The light filtering through the curtain was still gray-blue—dawn had just broken.

Lya was still asleep.

Last night, she had insisted on sleeping on the floor, but in the end Freya made her get into bed.

Now she was curled up on the other side of the bed, wrapped tightly in the blanket, only half her face and a mess of silver-white hair visible.

Her breathing was soft and slow—she was in a deep sleep.

She must have been really tired.

Freya didn’t move. She just lay still, feeling the faint sting in her chest.

It wasn’t intense, but it was persistent, like an tireless little beast scratching lightly at her heart.

She pressed her hand over her chest. Through the clothes and skin, the Mana Heart Crystal and the Black Fragment pulsed together—one warm, one cold.

She didn’t know how much longer she could hold on.

Yesterday, when she faced those Ice Plain Wolves, she had forced the power of the Mana Heart Crystal.

The light had indeed driven the wolves back, but it had also broken the balance in her heart.

The Black Fragment seemed to have awakened. It no longer slept quietly; it began to stir.

It slowly writhed deep within her heart meridian, like a snake seeking an escape.

Lya turned over, mumbled something unintelligible, and fell back into a deep sleep.

Freya turned her head and looked at her.

The morning light fell on Lya’s face, gilding her eyelashes with a pale gold glow.

Her lips were slightly parted, revealing the tip of her little wolf fang. She looked completely defenseless.

Freya watched her for a long time, then gently threw off the covers and sat up.

They had to travel today.

Serar said if everything went smoothly, they would reach Severe Winter City by evening. She needed to prepare.

After washing up and changing her clothes, the sting in her heart was still there, but it hadn’t worsened.

She straightened her collar in front of the mirror. Her face in the reflection was still pale.

She used some of the makeup Lya had brought—a thin layer on her cheeks and lips—and looked much better.

She didn’t want others to see her weakness, and especially didn’t want Lya to worry.

She composed herself and pushed open the door.

Downstairs in the tavern, Serar was already there. He sat at the corner table from last night, with three bowls of oatmeal and a plate of thickly sliced dark bread before him.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up and saw Freya. His eyes brightened slightly.

“Morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Alright.”

Freya sat down across from him. Serar slid a bowl of oatmeal toward her.

“Eat while it’s hot. The innkeeper added honey this morning—said it would give us energy.”

Freya picked up the bowl and drank slowly.

The porridge was very sweet, the aroma of honey mixed with the richness of the oats, warmth spreading from her throat all the way to her stomach.

The sting in her heart seemed to ease a little.

By the time Lya came downstairs, the porridge had already cooled.

She rubbed her eyes, walked over, and sat down next to Freya. She picked up the bowl and took a big gulp.

“Good.”

Serar looked at her—still half asleep—and couldn’t help but smile.

“Easy to please, aren’t you?”

Lya glared at him and continued drinking her porridge.

Freya set down her bowl and swept her gaze over the few locals eating breakfast at the tavern.

They wore thick fur coats, had rough skin and short, stubby fingers—clearly people who had made a living in the cold for years.

Their eyes occasionally flicked toward Freya, carrying a meaning she couldn’t quite decipher.

Not hostility, not curiosity—but something more covert, like the greed of sizing up prey.

“Serar.”

She lowered her voice.

“Those people.”

Serar followed her gaze and frowned slightly.

“Don’t mind them. We’ll leave after we eat.”

Lya noticed too.

She put down her bowl, her red eyes alertly fixed on the locals.

They grew uncomfortable under her stare and looked away, but their peripheral glances still drifted over from time to time.

“Boss, are they planning something?”

“Maybe.”

Freya’s voice was calm.

“Don’t worry about it. We’re just passing through. We’ll be gone soon.”

After eating, the three went back upstairs to pack. Lya folded the blanket and put it back in the cabinet, then folded Freya’s coat and stuffed it into the bundle.

Freya stood by the window, looking down at the snow-covered stone street.

The carriage was already waiting at the door; the driver was loading luggage.

“Boss, ready.” Lya shouldered the bundle.

Freya turned and walked toward the door. Her hand had just touched the doorknob when a sharp, intense pain struck her heart—not the probing sting from before, but a heavy blow, as if someone had slammed a hammer into her chest.

Her body shook violently. She grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling.

“Boss!”

Lya rushed over and caught her.

“What’s wrong? Is it hurting again?”

“I’m fine.”

Freya gritted her teeth, her voice trembling slightly. “Let’s go.”

Lya looked at her face—

The makeup hid the pallor, but it couldn’t hide the flash of pain in her eyes.

Her hands were shaking, her knuckles white.

Lya didn’t call her out on it. She simply took Freya’s hand off the doorframe and held it in her own.

“I’ll help you down.”

The hallway was quiet.

Their footsteps thudded dully on the wooden floor.

When they reached the stairway, a man stepped out from around the corner, nearly bumping into them.

Lya instinctively moved in front of Freya, her red eyes fixed on the man.

He wore a dark gray fur coat. Tall. A long scar ran from his left forehead to his right cheekbone.

He looked at Lya, then at Freya behind her. The corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk.

“Mage?”

His voice was low, as if squeezed from deep in his throat.

Lya frowned.

“Move.”

The man didn’t move.

His gaze slid past Lya and landed on Freya. A glint flickered in his murky eyes.

“Light purple hair, light purple eyes… House Dale?”

Freya’s heart sank slightly.

She knew the Dale family was famous in the Northern Frontier, but she hadn’t expected to be recognized in this remote border town.

She didn’t speak. She just looked at the man.

He grew a little uncomfortable under her stare, but quickly smiled again.

“Don’t worry. I mean no harm. Just curious—what’s a young lady of House Dale doing in a place like this?”

“Passing through.” Freya’s voice was cold.

“Now I’m done. Move aside.”

The man paused for a moment, then stepped aside.

Lya supported Freya as they walked past him, her red eyes fixed on him the whole time, like a hunting dog ready to pounce.

The man stood there, watching them descend the stairs, watching that light purple figure fade into the morning light.

“House Dale…”

He muttered to himself, a greedy glint flashing in his murky eyes.

The carriage was waiting at the door.

Serar was already seated. When he saw them come out, he reached out a hand to help.

Lya helped Freya into the carriage first, then climbed up and sat beside her.

The door closed, the wheels turned, and the carriage slowly pulled away from the inn.

“Boss, that man—” Lya began.

“I know.” Freya cut her off.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Serar looked at them, frowning.

“Who did you run into?”

“A man with a scar on his face.”

“He recognized the boss.”

Serar’s expression changed slightly.

“Scarface? A scar on his left side, from forehead to cheekbone?”

Lya nodded.

“You know him?”

Serar was silent for a moment.

“No. But I’ve heard of him. There are a few people in this town who deal in the mage trade. They usually don’t dare to act, but if they come across a lone, weakened mage…”

He paused.

“They strike.”

“Strike? Strike how?”

Serar didn’t answer. He looked at Freya, his deep blue eyes full of worry.

“Stay together these next few days. Don’t go out alone. You’ll be safe once you reach Severe Winter City.”

The carriage rumbled through the town’s stone streets and headed onto the main road toward Severe Winter City.

The snow grew deeper. The wheels’ grinding against the snow was dull and slow.

Lya leaned against the window, her red eyes fixed on the white world outside.

Freya sat beside her, eyes closed, hand pressed to her chest.

The sting in her heart was still there—steady, unhurried, like an tireless pendulum.

“Boss, does it hurt?”

Lya’s voice was very soft.

“It doesn’t.”

“You’re lying.”

Freya opened her eyes and looked at Lya’s red eyes, full of worry.

“A little. But it’s nothing serious.”

Lya reached out and took the hand Freya was pressing to her chest.

Freya’s hand was cold. Lya held it in her palm, warming it bit by bit.

“Boss, when we get to Severe Winter City, what do we look for first?”

“The library.”

“And then?”

“Find information. Find answers.”

“And then?”

Freya was silent for a moment.

“I don’t know.”

Lya nodded and didn’t ask further.

She just held Freya’s hand and stared out the window at the snow-covered wilderness.

In the distance, the outline of snow-capped mountains appeared faintly on the horizon.

Severe Winter City was close.