Chapter 36: The Voyage to Frostport and a Trio of Fragments

Long Xuan’s voice echoed in his mind, patient as the tides. “Don’t force the merge. Let the fragments guide you. Each one has a memory—of the Dark Dragon, of the realms it destroyed. If you listen, they’ll tell you how to use their power without being consumed by it.”

Lin Yue closed his eyes, letting his dragon qi drift toward the fragments. At first, he felt only their steady pulse—but then, a flicker of something else: a vision, brief and hazy, of a snow-covered plain, black mist swirling across the ground, and figures in tattered robes kneeling before a stone altar. The Bone Eaters. The Northern Wastes.

He gasped, opening his eyes, the vision fading like smoke. “I saw them,” he whispered. “The Bone Eaters. They’re gathered around something—an altar, maybe. The fourth fragment is there.”

His father, who’d been standing beside him, leaned in to look at the fragments. “The fragments are showing you the way? That’s a power even the old records didn’t mention.”

Lin Yue nodded, closing the jade box. “Long Xuan says they hold memories. If I can learn to read them better, we might not just find the fourth fragment—we might find the fifth, too. But it’s slow. The visions are faint, like trying to see through fog.”

From the helm, Hai called out, his voice carrying over the wind. “We’ll reach Frostport by sundown! The northern currents are picking up—we’ll need to dock before the cold hits. Winter comes fast in the north, and the harbor freezes overnight this time of year.”

Lin Yue turned to glance at the prisoner, who sat alone at the stern, his hands bound loosely with rope (a compromise—trust, but not too much). He’d barely spoken since they left the reef, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon, as if searching for a sign of his daughter. Lin Yue walked over, lowering himself to sit on the wooden planks beside him.

“What’s her name?” Lin Yue asked, nodding toward the prisoner’s hands—calloused, scarred, the hands of someone who’d once worked with tools, not dark qi.

The prisoner looked up, surprised. “Mei. Her name is Mei. She’s twelve. Loves to climb trees. Hates fish—even though we lived by the sea.” A small, sad smile tugged at his lips. “I used to take her to the market every weekend. She’d beg for honey cakes, and I’d tell her we couldn’t afford them… but I’d always buy one, anyway.”

Lin Yue thought of his own childhood—of his father teaching him to hold a sword, of the honey cakes they’d share after training. “We’ll find her,” he said, quiet but firm. “If she’s alive, we’ll bring her back to you.”

The prisoner nodded, his eyes glistening. “Thank you. I know I don’t deserve it. All the people I hurt… the fishermen, the Frost Wolves… but if I can help you stop the Dark Dragon, if I can get Mei back… I’ll do anything.”

As the day wore on, the air grew colder, the sea turning a deeper blue. By afternoon, they spotted land—a stretch of snow-covered coast, with a small town huddled against the shore: Frostport. The harbor was busy, wooden ships of all sizes bobbing in the water, but the mood was tense. Villagers walked quickly, their coats pulled tight against the wind, their eyes darting toward the north—as if expecting danger to come rolling down from the Wastes.

Hai guided the Wave Chaser into a vacant dock, tying it off with thick ropes. “Stay close,” he warned as they stepped onto the wooden planks of the pier. “Frostport’s a tough town. Folks here don’t trust strangers—especially not ones carrying swords. And if anyone asks about the Wastes… don’t talk. The Bone Eaters have eyes everywhere.”

They walked through the town’s main square, where a few merchants huddled under canvas tents, selling furs and dried meat. A group of children ran past, chasing a dog, but their laughter died when they saw the prisoner—his ragged clothes and haggard face making them step back. An old woman sitting on a bench glared at Lin Yue’s sword, muttering under her breath about “cultivators bringing trouble.”

Elder Mu stopped at a small inn—the Frozen Mug, its sign depicting a tankard covered in ice—and pushed open the door. The common room was warm, filled with the smell of wood smoke and stew, but the chatter died the moment they entered. All eyes turned to them—curious, wary, even hostile.

The innkeeper, a broad-shouldered man with a beard dusted with snow, walked over, wiping his hands on a dirty apron. “We don’t serve trouble here,” he said, his voice low. “If you’re heading north… turn back. The Wastes ate the last group that went looking for ‘treasure.’ Never saw ’em again.”

Lin Yue set a pouch of spirit stones on the bar—enough to buy a week’s worth of rooms and supplies. “We’re not looking for treasure. We’re looking for the Bone Eaters. And we need supplies—warm coats, food that won’t freeze, maps of the Wastes.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened. He glanced around the room, then leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re crazy. The Bone Eaters don’t just kill—they drain your qi, leave you as a hollow shell. Last month, a farmer’s son went north to fetch firewood. Came back three days later, eyes empty, skin cold. Died before sunrise. The Wastes are cursed. The Bone Eaters are cursed.”

Ling stepped forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. “We know the danger. But we have to go. There’s something in the Wastes—something that could destroy the realm if we don’t stop it. We need your help.”

The innkeeper hesitated, then nodded, sliding the pouch of spirit stones into his apron. “I’ve got a cousin—he’s a trapper. Knows the Wastes better than anyone. He’ll sell you maps, coats, whatever you need. But he won’t go with you. No one will. Not even for all the spirit stones in the world.” He paused, then added, “And keep that prisoner of yours out of sight. Folks here hate anyone tied to dark qi. They’ll lynch him before you can blink.”

That night, they gathered in Lin Yue’s small room at the inn, the trapper’s maps spread out on the table. The Northern Wastes were a vast expanse of snow and ice, marked with red X’s where the Bone Eaters had been spotted—mostly around a cluster of ancient ruins, half-buried in snow.

“The altar’s here,” Lin Yue said, pointing to a spot in the center of the ruins. “The fragments showed me. The fourth fragment is there.”

Elder Mu traced the path to the ruins with his finger. “It’ll take three days to get there on foot. The snow’s deep, and the wind’s brutal this time of year. We’ll need to take turns carrying supplies—no one can carry a heavy load in that cold.”

Xiao Wei, who’d been quiet since the fight on the reef, spoke up. “What about the Bone Eaters? The trapper said they feed on qi. If they attack, we can’t just fight them head-on—we’ll lose too much qi.”

Lin Yue thought of the fragments, of the vision he’d seen. “The fragments might help. If I can weave their energy into our shields, it might block their qi-draining attacks. But I need to practice. Tonight. Before we leave tomorrow.”

The others nodded, filing out of the room to let him focus. Lin Yue sat cross-legged on the bed, opening the jade box. The three fragments glowed, and he let his dragon qi flow toward them—slow, steady, like water filling a cup. This time, he didn’t just weave his qi around them—he let their energy flow into him, too, feeling the faint memories of the Wastes, of the Bone Eaters’ dark rituals.

He saw the altar again, clearer now: made of black stone, covered in runes that glowed with dark qi, and on top of it— the fourth fragment, pulsing red, surrounded by Bone Eaters kneeling in prayer. He saw their faces: gaunt, their eyes hollow, their skin stretched tight over their bones—like they’d starved themselves to feed on the fragment’s energy.

He opened his eyes, the vision fading. “They’re using the fragment to survive,” he whispered. “Feeding on its dark qi to stay alive. If we take it… they’ll die. Or they’ll fight harder to keep it.”

Long Xuan’s voice was grave. “They’re already dead, in a way. Consumed by the fragment’s darkness. Don’t let their fate make you hesitate. The fourth fragment is too dangerous to stay in their hands.”

Lin Yue closed the jade box, his resolve firm. Tomorrow, they’d head into the Northern Wastes. Tomorrow, they’d face the Bone Eaters. Tomorrow, they’d take the fourth fragment.

He looked out the window, at the moon hanging low over Frostport, its light reflecting on the snow. The town was quiet, the only sounds the wind howling through the streets and the distant creak of ship masts. But somewhere to the north, in the frozen wastes, the Bone Eaters waited. The fourth fragment waited.

And he was ready. Slow. Steady. Strong. That’s how he’d come this far. That’s how he’d win tomorrow.