Before dawn, the team headed north once more.

  Continuous night snow had swallowed the world. Unlike the thin dusting from before, everything ahead had turned completely white—the borders between roads, distant mountains, and the sky dissolved into an endless expanse of pale void. The further north they traveled, the rarer colors became, as if this land had been eternally claimed by winter.

  The journey passed in monotony. Unchanging trees, identical mountains—even the rugged terrain was smoothed into a flat nothingness by the snow.

  Only snow!

  Only snow, falling silently and stubbornly, filling every inch of vision. Gradually, the falling snow turned into a howling storm, the world turning dim and dark as if falling into a violent white vortex.

  The snow-hounds began to grow restless, their barking piercing through the blizzard, short and anxious. After traveling a bit further, the blizzard became so dense it even swallowed the outlines of the mountains. The barking grew more frequent, almost reaching a howl.

  "No, we can't go any further."

  Wolf finally pulled the reins. Although the so-called "road" had long since vanished into the vastness, Wolf used his intuition to steer the wagon to the side and stop. He let the dogs huddle behind the wagon for warmth.

  Wolf lifted the heavy curtain of the carriage and sat down, bringing a gust of chill with him; his beard and eyebrows were white with frost.

  Mary was leaning against the window, her face almost pressed against the cold glass, trying to discern any sign of the weather clearing from the shifting white curtain. She was still a bit shy, instinctively shrinking her shoulders, but she was much more relaxed than when she first joined the team.

  "How is it on Vivian’s side?" Wolf asked, slapping the snow off his shoulders, his voice muffled by his scarf.

  "I just asked Zoe using a transmission spell," Mary turned her head. "They’ve stopped too. But the blizzard is too heavy... I can't tell how far they are from us."

  Wolf nodded. In this weather, the two wagons couldn't maintain a formation. If they stayed too close, they risked sliding and colliding; if they strayed too far, they would instantly be lost behind the snow curtain—just as they were now. Fortunately, forewarned by Emma’s disappearance, Zoe and Mary had been using mana to maintain contact.

  "Stay in touch. Don't break it," Wolf said gravely. "We’re getting closer and closer to the Great Snowfields. Besides this hellish weather, we could run into terrifying monsters at any time."

  Mary acknowledged softly and looked back out the window.

  "Don't keep staring at the snow," Wolf warned. "Watch out for snow blindness."

  She retracted her gaze as if burned, turning to look at everyone in the carriage. The magic-maintained warmth wrapped around the small space, a world apart from the bitter cold outside. Yet, a formless oppression permeated the silence.

  Mary bit her lip, her fingers unconsciously tugging at the corner of her clothes. A flush gradually rose to her face, and after appearing to summon a great deal of courage, she finally spoke in a small voice:

  "Speaking of snow blindness... I looked up some records on Dragonwood Village before. There’s... a ghost story about it."

  Ronen looked up at the girl who always kept her head down. If no one responded now, her hard-earned courage would likely retreat back into its shell.

  "Oh?" He leaned forward slightly, his tone gentle. "Let’s hear it."

  Seeing Ronen’s response, Mary looked pleasantly surprised. She immediately cleared her throat and lowered her voice, imitating the slow, rhythmic tone of a bard:

  "Legend has it that deep within these endless snowfields of the North, there hides an invisible demon—the Snowblind Wraith."

  She paused, her gaze sweeping across their faces as if confirming they were truly listening.

  "They have no shape, no shadow; the human eye can never see them. But they are always there, hiding behind every snowflake, waiting for someone to stop, waiting for someone to... look at the snow for too long."

  The carriage was quiet, with only the faint hum of the magic array. Mary’s voice continued to flow like ice water seeping into a crack:

  "When you stay on the snowfields long enough, they will quietly approach. When you aren't paying attention... they crawl into your eyes."

  At this point, she unconsciously touched her own eyelids.

  "At first, your eyes will just feel itchy, like there’s sand in them. But that itch quickly vanishes, making you think it was just the cold drying them out."

  "But it’s not sand," Mary’s voice became softer yet clearer. "It’s the wraith moving in."

  "Then, your vision starts to blur. Everything you see becomes a white haze—everyone thinks it's just snow blindness. But it's not. It has settled into your eyeballs and begun to drain your energy, bit by bit."

  She leaned forward slightly, the light of the heater dancing in her eyes:

  "Then, the hallucinations come. At first, they are just fragments: a splash of color that shouldn't be there, a shadow with no footprints... Later, the visions become more real, more frequent. You can't tell if you've eaten, if you've slept, or even..." She took a deep breath. "...even if the person in front of you is actually talking, or if it’s just a voice in your head."

  Ronen instinctively sat up straighter. Ethan sat with his arms crossed, his face expressionless.

  "In the end," Mary almost whispered, "the hallucinations drive you mad. Your eyeballs will slowly rot away, or... simply vanish. Because by then, the wraith has eaten its fill. It crawls out of your hollow sockets and drifts back into the blizzard, waiting for the next person to watch the snow."

  When she finished, there was silence in the carriage. Only the wind howled outside the window.

  After a few seconds, Ethan snorted, breaking the silence with a hint of disdain. "These ghost stories and legends are just made up. Likely the people of Dragonwood Village invented it to stop children from wandering into the snowfields and freezing to death."

  "Itchy eyes?"

  Ronen keenly caught the keyword from the story. Perhaps it was psychological, but he suddenly felt a slight itch in his own eyes. He rubbed them instinctively, then shook his head, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling.

  "That’s enough," Wolf said, lifting the curtain to look out. "The snow is letting up. Mary, contact Vivian’s side again. I’ll go out and see if I can spot their wagon."

  Mary nodded, took a deep breath—her eyes glowing with a faint light—and placed her hands over the glowing transmission array again. Constant static came from the array, as if the blizzard itself had been turned into sound. She bit her lower lip, sweat beading on her forehead as she struggled to pull a voice from the chaotic flow of mana.

  Finally, fragmented sentences broke through the noise:

  "...see... your wagon..."

  It was Vivian’s voice, distorted and stretched, but still recognizable.

  Ronen immediately moved closer. "Vivian! Can you hear us?"

  "Yes... finally clear. The snow is lighter here; we should be able to move forward, but I can't see your wagon."

  "Is there anything prominent around you? A mountain, strange rocks, or a specific tree?"

  Silence followed for a moment, with only static filling the void.

  "...No. Only snow, nothing but white... What about you?"

  Ronen looked out the window. Continuous snow dunes rose and fell like frozen waves, making it impossible to identify any landmarks. He sighed. "Same here. Just mountains and more mountains. Nothing to use as a marker."

  At that moment, Wolf climbed back into the carriage, bringing a chill with him, his beard covered in tiny ice crystals. He spoke directly toward the array:

  "Vivian! We can't tell who is ahead and who is behind. Let’s do this: we’ll act separately but stay in touch. We’ll meet directly at Dragonwood Village before nightfall. You know the location, right?"

  "...Understood," Vivian’s voice sounded remarkably calm through the interference. "See you at Dragonwood. I’ll try to maintain the transmission. If the wind dies down more, I’ll fire some signal stones—we might run into each other on the way."

  As she finished, the light in Mary’s hands flickered rapidly and then went out completely. She leaned back, exhausted, her face pale and her fingers trembling slightly. The connection was broken.

  The carriage returned to silence, save for the never-ending howl of the wind outside.

  Wolf began driving the four snow-hounds again, but after a short while, he stopped once more.

  "Uncle, is something wrong?" Ronen poked his head out of the carriage.

  He saw the snow-hounds with their ears pricked up. Ignoring Wolf’s commands, they were all facing the same direction, barking wildly with their hackles raised.

  Ronen looked in the direction they were barking. Not far away, beneath a snow-covered hill, a deep, dark opening was faintly visible—like a black eye quietly opened by the earth.

  "Looks like there’s something in that cave!" Ronen jumped down, stroking the dogs' tense backs to try and calm them. "Should we check it out?"

  Wolf looked at the sky. "We have some time."

  He turned his gaze from the sky to the people inside the wagon, his eyes landing on Ethan. He knew the young apprentice would follow his mentor’s lead. "Professor Ethan, we found a cave. The dogs won't stop barking; there might be something there. My suggestion is to take a look. We still have time, and an investigation mission is essentially about searching for clues. It might help us understand what’s happening around here."

  Ethan nodded. "You have the experience; we’ll follow your lead."

  Wolf’s gaze finally fell on the member of The Library who had remained silent the entire time.

  "Mr. Shen, this scouting isn't part of the original mission and could be risky. Will you be joining us?"

  Shen raised his eyes, a faint smile touching his lips.

  "Do not worry about me," he said calmly, as if speaking about something that had nothing to do with him. "Just act as if I am not here."