by Mari Mancusi
She rose to her feet, walking over to the large, circular wooden table in the center of the room, stopping in front of it and looking down. Too late I realized there were full-on blueprints of the dam my father had built, spread across its surface. The plans that had started this whole thing, drawn up long before I was born, when my father and his people had first arrived in Arendelle.
She traced a hand over the paper. “What do you think happened that day?” she asked, in a voice so soft I could barely hear her.
I stepped closer, staring down at the plans. “I don’t know,” I said after a minute. “It started out as such a perfect day. The Enchanted Forest was so beautiful. Everyone was having fun. Laughing, joking. And then…they weren’t.” I swallowed hard as memories of the day came raging back at me. The stench of smoke. Swords clashing. People screaming. Wind blowing.
My father tumbling to his death.
“Do you think the Northuldra betrayed us?” she asked suddenly, turning to look at me. Her big blue eyes seemed to drill right through me, as if trying to peer into my soul. “Do you think they attacked first?”
It was, of course, the same question everyone had been asking since that fateful day. But somehow it sounded different coming from her mouth. Mostly because she was the first one who sounded like she really wanted an answer, instead of using the question as a preamble to rant on about the Northuldra and their vile magic.
“I don’t know,” I said at last, keeping my voice low so no one could accidentally hear us if they walked past. I was the crown prince of Arendelle, after all. Which meant I needed to side with my people, no matter what. And I did believe in them. Arendelle was a good kingdom. People were kind to their neighbors. They helped others in need. But still, it didn’t make sense to me. Why would the Northuldra attack us after we gave them such a gift?
But then, why would we attack them?
Iduna looked up at me and I realized her eyes were brimming with tears again. “Has anyone gone back?” she asked, her voice wobbly. “To see what’s left? Who survived? Are the Northuldra destroyed?”
Oh! My eyes widened. She didn’t know! Of course she didn’t. No one outside the castle had any idea. They were already too riled up, even without knowing about the magical mist; Lord Peterssen hadn’t wanted to cause a panic.
I gestured for her to follow me. We couldn’t talk about something this important here, in the center of the castle. There were too many eyes and ears, lurking around every corner. It would be safer to talk in the courtyard garden, despite the cold. Hardly anyone ever went out there these days, especially since Peterssen had put the gardeners on leave when closing up the castle.
We stepped outside, into the courtyard. Everything was gnarled and barren in the throes of winter. But I ignored it all, leading Iduna straight to my favorite tree. My reading tree, I’d dubbed it, since I’d spent so much time from a young age sitting on the little bench underneath it, paging through books.
“Do you want to sit—?” I started to ask. But to my surprise, she had already swung herself into the tree itself, easily pulling herself up by her hands to reach the higher branches. I watched, mesmerized for a moment by her graceful, catlike movements, then decided to join her, hoisting myself up—albeit far more clumsily—onto one of the lower branches. A moment later, she crawled back down to my level, settling herself gracefully on a nearby branch. It was as if she were a bird that had lived in trees all her life.
She leaned toward me expectantly. “So, what is it?” she prompted.
I bit my lower lip. “Look, you have to keep this quiet, okay? They aren’t telling everyone the truth. They’re too afraid it’ll cause a panic.”
“What will?”
“The Enchanted Forest. It’s…covered in mist.”
Her eyes widened. But strangely she didn’t look surprised.
“They say it’s magical,” I added. “Like, it totally looks as if you could walk through it, but you can’t. And if you try, it bounces you back. No one can get in. And…well, I’m guessing no one can get out, either.”
She plucked a twig from a branch, folding it in her hand. Her face had gone pale. “So you think people are still in there? Alive?” she asked.
Suddenly I realized why she was so interested. Lord Peterssen said her parents had been killed in the battle. But what if they hadn’t been? What if they were trapped in the mist? Like I hoped Lieutenant Mattias was.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think there’s a chance. Not that it matters. Unless the mist lifts someday, we’ll never know what’s within it. All we can do is hope that—”
“I want to see.”
I blinked at her, not understanding what she meant.
“The mist,” she clarified at my bemused expression. “Do you know where it is? Can you take me there?” Her blue eyes flashed with inner fire.
I shook my head. “It’s not that easy. For one thing, it’s really far away. Like over a day’s journey. And Lord Peterssen and the soldiers would never let us go. We’re only kids. It’s far too dangerous.”
The expression on her face was so fierce that a shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the biting cold. “I must see it,” she declared. “We can leave tonight.”
I stared at her, incredulous. Who was this girl? On the one hand she seemed completely crazy, but I also couldn’t help admiring her courage. I would have never even thought to suggest something so bold.
And, unfortunately, I couldn’t join her.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not that I don’t want to,” I added quickly, after catching a flash of frustration on her face. “It’s just that they watch me all the time; they even guard my bedroom while I sleep. I can barely go to Blodget’s Bakery for cookies without a full-on army in tow.”
She nodded slowly, then dropped fluidly out of the tree. I stared down at her through the branches, feeling my heart ache unexpectedly as I caught her slumped shoulders and bowed head.
I’d disappointed her, this girl who had already lost everything. But something about being the one to cause her any further pain made me feel a weight that was almost too much to bear.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, slipping down from the tree myself. “Maybe once things lighten up a little, I can make something happen. We could form a convoy. Journey out there together.”
“Sure,” she said absently as we turned to walk back inside the castle. But I could tell she had already dismissed me in her mind. Which hurt more than I wanted to admit. And suddenly all I wanted to do was find some way to help her with her quest.
But at the moment, that seemed even more impossible than getting the mist itself to part.
I SNUCK OUT OF ARENDELLE LATE THAT night, over the bridge and into the hills, armed only with a satchel filled with bread and cheese, the horse I’d “borrowed” from the stables just outside the orphanage while everyone was sleeping, and an old map I’d found in the Arendelle library, which I’d used to plot out my trek. I was nervous, a little excited, but mostly freezing cold as we climbed the hills and the temperature continued to drop.
I didn’t love the idea of journeying alone. I knew it was dangerous. The elders had always lectured us about going off by ourselves. They were great believers in strength in numbers. If only Agnarr had agreed to go with me. I could tell he wanted to, even though he couldn’t. Which was ridiculous, right? A prince should be able to do whatever he wanted. And yet he seemed as trapped in the castle as my family was in the mist.
The mist…Would I have been trapped in it, too, had I not run back to the Arendellian camp for my mother’s shawl?
Had I not stopped to save Agnarr…?
I didn’t know whether to consider myself lucky or not. Which side of the mist did I want to be on? Trapped in the Enchanted Forest, but with my family? Or free in this strange new world where I had to hide who I was?
I shook my head. What I wanted didn’t change a thing. The fact was I was on the outside, and I needed to see the mist for
myself. Maybe if I went to it, I could call for Gale and the other spirits. Maybe they could give me some answers about what had happened. And how long this apparent curse would last.
As my horse crossed a long barren plain, snow began to fall from the sky. Big, fat flakes that landed in clumps on my hair and clothes. The Arendellian clothes I had on were a poor defense against extreme cold weather, and I longed for the old reindeer hides I’d used back home to keep warm.
But still I pressed on. I was Northuldra, after all. I knew how to live among the elements. This was nothing I hadn’t faced before. Though…never alone before.
A wolf howled in the distance and I inhaled sharply.
It was almost dawn when I finally reached the map’s end—a large empty clearing just outside the forest, devoid of trees. I knew the spot well—my mother used to take me here when I was little to see the four stone monoliths rising high into the sky. I remembered her explaining the symbols carved into the stones. The four spirits: earth, fire, water, and wind—each with the powers to help the Northuldra with their daily lives, so long as we respected them and their mother, the mighty river Ahtohallan.
But that day the stones were gone. They’d completely disappeared behind smoky grayish-blue clouds that were as thick as soup and completely opaque, swirling around in a perfect storm and rising high into the sky.
This was it. The mist.
I slid off my horse, my heart pounding as I approached it. By the time I reached it, my whole body was shaking with trepidation. I reached out, brushing the clouds with my fingertips. The mist pushed me away, as if it couldn’t bear my touch. And when I attempted to step through, I bounced right back.
I stared at the mist, my mind racing with horror. So it was real. But how? Had the spirits somehow conjured up the mist to keep people out of their forest? Or to keep people in? Was it to protect the Northuldra? The Arendellians? The forest itself?
Or was it to punish them? Us. Everyone.
More importantly, how long would it last? Was this a temporary thing? Or would it go on forever?
I scrambled to my feet, determination rising inside me. Maybe all it would take was a little more force. I backed up, then ran forward, hard as I could toward the mist.
BAM!
I hit the cold ground hard as the mist shook me off and threw me backward like a rag doll. Determined, I leapt back to my feet, charging at it again, this time holding out my arms, ready to shove it away with both hands.
But the mist repelled my advance once again. I flew through the air, then dropped unceremoniously, landing hard on my recently healed ankle. It crumpled beneath me and I cried out as daggers of pain shot up my leg.
I collapsed, clutching my leg in agony. Tears welled in my eyes and I angrily wiped them away. I tried to stand, but my ankle barked in pain and I realized I couldn’t put any weight on it again. It was swelling, too, already double its normal size with skin that had taken on a purplish hue. I curled my hand into a fist and slammed it against the ground in frustration.
“Why?” I demanded, looking up at the mist. “You tell me why, right now!”
But there was no answer. The mist just swirled its endless gray clouds. Blocking me from my only home. My family, my friends, completely walled off from reach.
Despair settled like a heavy weight in my stomach. What came next? Should I head back to Arendelle, keep living the lie? Leave everything I ever knew and loved behind? Become someone else entirely?
Daughter of Greta and Torra. Whoever they were.
I sat up, rubbing my sore ankle. I stared bitterly at the mist. “You couldn’t have given me one more person?” I growled. “Even one?” Why did I have to be the only Northuldra to escape?
Because you chose another path, I imagined it saying back to me. You chose to save your enemy.
I scowled at the fog. “What was I supposed to do?” I demanded. “Just leave him there to die?”
If the mist had an answer, it chose not to share it with me.
I wrapped my arms around my chest, shivering. The sun had risen, but its early morning rays were barely visible behind thick storm clouds. It would snow again soon; I could smell it in the air. The temperature had dropped further and the wind had picked up, icy blasts stinging my cheeks and nose. I needed to get back to the orphanage before my absence was noticed.
Gritting my teeth against the sure pain, I tried again to rise to my feet. But my ankle wasn’t having it, forcing me to collapse back onto the cold, hard ground.
In the distance, a wolf howled, followed by another.
Desperate, I lifted my voice to the sky, attempting to call for Gale. “Ah ah ah ah!”
The Wind Spirit had always been there for me in the past. Swooping in to save me anytime I found myself in a mess.
But that day my repeated calls went unanswered. And only an angry, unfriendly wind howled through the trees, chilling me to the bone. Was Gale also trapped behind the mist? Or was the Wind Spirit simply angry at me?
The thought made me sad. In so many ways, the Wind Spirit had been my best friend. My only true friend. Had it really abandoned me? Would it ever return?
Would I be alive when it did?
Only Ahtohallan knows….
My mother’s voice rose once again in my heart as I stared out at the impenetrable mist. A crushing despair began to weigh on my chest. Everyone I ever loved was there behind that wall. And I was stuck on the outside, utterly alone.
But I was not dead yet.
Grimacing, I forced myself to my hands and knees, ignoring the pain shooting up my leg. I began a halting crawl around the unforgiving surroundings, scooping up piles of leaves and tiny sticks and gathering them into a small pile. I reached into my satchel, thankful I’d at least remembered to bring my flint. Back home, I’d simply have called for Bruni, the Fire Spirit, to help me light my flame. But the elders insisted we also learn to make a spark the human way, just in case Bruni—whose temper could be as hot as its fire—wasn’t in the mood to give aid. Or, you know, trapped behind a magical mist in this case. Thankfully I’d paid attention.
Huddling by the tiny pile, I struck the flint together as I had been taught to do. At first nothing happened. Then there was a spark of light that died quickly on leaves damp with the first breath of snow. Finally, I managed to create a small flame with a single dry leaf. The flame spread to the next leaf and then a twig. The crackling sound was a merry contrast to the desolate setting.
I had a fire. A tiny one—Bruni would have smiled at its feeble flame—but it was better than nothing. I held my freezing hands over it, warming them as best I could. As the heat from it spread through my fingertips, a small shred of hope rose in my heart. The wolves in the distance howled again, but I ignored them this time, instead drowning out their voices with a song of my own.
Until I heard a noise behind me.
I CLAMPED MY MOUTH SHUT, WHIRLING around, my heart in my throat at the sudden sound. A heavily cloaked figure rode into view astride a tall white horse. At first I thought it must be an illusion—the kind of hallucination one might see before freezing to death. But when I blinked, the figure was still there.
It was Agnarr.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said with a bashful grin.
Emotion flooded me before I could stop it. He’d come! He’d actually come. Not that I’d needed him, of course, I scolded myself. Obviously. I wasn’t some damsel in distress from one of those Arendellian books, in need of rescue from a handsome prince.
Still, I couldn’t stop the fountain of joy from bubbling up inside me as I watched him approach on his horse. I wasn’t alone anymore.
I gasped as he climbed down from the horse and strode toward me.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his smile fading as he got closer to me and observed my swollen ankle. My pathetic little fire.
“I’m fine,” I shot back quickly, though it was obvious I wasn’t. “I thought you weren’t coming,” I added. “I thought they wouldn’t let
you leave the castle.”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “I figured in this case it might be better to ask forgiveness than permission.” His mouth quirked. “Besides, everyone probably thinks I’m holed up in my room with a good book, as usual. They won’t start looking for me for ages.”
I watched as he walked over to the mist, dragging a hand across its surface, his eyes as wide as saucers. “So, this is it,” he marveled. “The magical mist everyone’s been talking about.”
“Don’t try to walk through it,” I warned him ruefully. “It may look like mist, but it’s solid as rock.”
“Did you walk around it? See if there were any openings?”
I shook my head. “But if there were, people would have come out by now, right? They would have made their way back to Arendelle.”
“Yeah.” His smile faded. “I guess you’re right.”
Another gust of wind blew through the clearing and I shivered violently, the cold seeping into my bones despite the warmth of the fire. Agnarr noticed immediately and abandoned the mist, walking over to me and pulling off his thick woolen cloak, then draping it over my shoulders.
“You’ll be cold,” I protested.
He waved a hand. “The cold never bothers me.”
“Liar,” I accused as his body betrayed him with a fierce, all-consuming shiver. He grinned sheepishly.
“Okay fine. I hate the cold. But I’m not taking back my cloak.”
“Then come share it with me,” I said, beckoning him over. “This thing is huge. Surely it can warm us both.”
Something flashed across Agnarr’s face that I didn’t quite recognize, but after a moment’s pause, he relented and dropped down to join me by the fire, crawling under the thick fabric I held open and wrapping it around his body. I could feel his shoulder press up against mine, and a strange sensation wormed through my stomach. Back home, my family had always huddled together on cold nights, using our shared body heat to keep warm. This was no different, right?
