The Pola Rebellion works tirelessly to fight against the despotic rule of the Altiziman royal family, who exploit their subjects ruthlessly while they lavish themselves with fine food and riches. It's a hard-fought battle, and those who pledge themselves to the rebellion's banner find little time to rest. But as the days grow shorter and the climate of the Ursa Wastes becomes colder and harsher, the mood in the rebellion's encampment grows tense. In the midst of training, one young girl wonders if some festive cheer might be just the remedy everyone needs.
It had proven to be a particularly cold winter that year, even by the standards of the Ursa Wastes.
A young girl wrapped up in a warm, fluffy coat stood in the middle of a circle of frozen, packed earth. She grasped her staff tightly in her hands, the crystalline snowflake at its tip exuding a faint blue light. This was a training ground of sorts, the snow pushed aside to make room for makeshift training dummies and battered old crates for target practice.
With a yell of exertion, she held her staff aloft. Motes of light formed in the air around her, the light shed by the crystal growing brighter. The energy around her quickly coalesced into surging waves that twirled and danced around one another toward a single point in the air.
“Hah!”
She brought the bottom of her staff down to bear on the ground, and all of the energy suddenly formed into a large jagged crystal, clear and unblemished, ice in its purest aetheric form. It hung in the air in front of her for a moment before dropping to the ground, shattering with the impact. Streams of light and those same dancing motes spread out in all directions like a light show, the aetheric residue of the spell.
Anastasia clapped as the young girl crouched to catch her breath. ”That was amazing, Yulia!” she said, approaching from the perimeter of the circle. She brought her hand up as she went, feeling the tickling cold sensation of the aether drifting between her fingers as it dissipated.
”Feeling a little bit…. woozy…!”
Yulia toppled over, but found herself caught in Anastasia’s arm before she could collide with the ground.
”It was a big one,” Anastasia said, putting the younger girl back on her feet. “Let’s go take a breather, yeah?”
”Yes please,” Yulia said, laughing uncertainly. “It didn’t feel so bad when I was doing it… I didn’t realise I was using so much aether.”
Anastasia perched back on top of the barrel she’d been treating as a seat, and Yulia sat herself down next to her. She was still a little wobbly. Nothing to be too concerned about, Anastasia knew—once she’d had a few minutes for her body to soak in some aether to replenish what she’d used, she'd be as good as new.
”You still have much to learn, my young friend,” Anastasia said, giving her best impression of some wizened master. “But don’t worry, because I still have plenty to teach.”
”Okay, go on then, show me what you can do!”
”Right now?”
Yulia nodded enthusiastically, and, well, who was she to deny such an earnest request?
The mouse hopped from the barrel and drew her weapon from its scabbard. It was a rapier, thin but with an ornate and elegant design resembling crystalline roses growing on vines that wrapped around the blade and flourished above the pommel to form a guard. It had looked inconspicuous at her waist, but once she held it in her hand, it came to life, the entirety of the weapon shedding a cool blue light that made it look as though it was made entirely of the same sort of magical ice Yulia had conjured just a few minutes earlier.
It was the Crystal Rose, an heirloom once regarded as a symbol of the Pola Empire. Now, it was a symbol of rebellion.
”Let’s see…” She shifted in place, one foot in front of the other, shoulders straight—proper form. Lifting her weapon, she felt the cold that nipped at her extremities, the way the snow settled on her fur, listened for the howling of the wind… and a moment later, she thrust her hand forward, launching a volley of icicles that embedded themselves within the sack body of one of the training dummies.
After a few moments, they began to disintegrate, the aether they were composed of returning to the environment as it had with Yulia’s spell. Some of the dummy’s burlap, severed by the attack, fluttered to the ground in the wake of them—Anastasia made a mental note to get these fixed up or replaced sometime soon.
“That was amazing!” Yulia yelled from her side, having launched herself away from the barrel. “You did it so quickly and you aren’t even tired!”
Anastasia sheathed her sword and placed her hands on her hips. “No big deal. Won’t be a big deal for you either, before long.”
”But you know, it’s really impressive that you use a sword and magic at the same time,” Yulia said, her gaze very openly following the heirloom weapon to its ornate scabbard. “Isn’t it difficult? Don’t most people use a focus like mine?”
“Mhm, well, it depends. For me, I like to get up close and personal, so a weapon that’s nice and sharp and also an aetheric focus? That’s perfect,” she said. “I can cover my own approach with a spell like the one I just cast, but I won’t be able to do any of the really impressive stuff that real mages do. Ice needles are one thing, but big storms, raging infernos? No, that’s not in my arsenal.”
“Wow…”
Anastasia grinned, placing a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. “No need to sound so in awe, y’know. You’re gonna make an amazing mage. I mean, you already are, so keep practicing and you’ll be making your own big, luxurious ice palace before long!”
Yulia laughed and looked bashful. “Even so, mother always says it’s not good to focus too much on just one thing. She says we need to take in lots of different experiences.”
Your mother’s operating on 'do as I say, not as I do', I see…
“She’s not wrong,” Anastasia hummed thoughtfully. “Well, let’s put it this way, if you’re, say… a hundred percent good at magic, I’m maybe thirty percent good at magic and seventy percent good at swordplay. Uh, yeah, or something like that. So we’re actually just as cool as each other, in different ways. But yeah, if you ever want to learn a thing or two about swords, I can teach you.”
“Okay! I’ll remember that,” Yulia said with a smile. “Oh! By the way, I was wondering… well, do you remember a few weeks ago, when we were talking about the Winter Festival?”
Anastasia nodded. “Sure I do.”
The Winter Festival was one of Anastasia’s favourite times of year, and it crossed her mind without fail each and every mid-winter. It had its roots in ancient Sun worship, as the time in the depths of winter when the Empyreans would come together in Genbu’s domain to share tales and bask in the glow of friends and family.
It was a time for temporarily putting aside hardship and doubt, and finding respite even in the cold months. Of course, the tradition had held even as the Solar Orthodoxy’s influence waned, its associations with the Empyreans fading in favour of emphasising the opportunity for connection with loved ones.
Unfortunately, ever since she’d become embroiled in a bitter struggle for the freedom of her people, well—it had been difficult to find the time to celebrate.
“I was thinking, um,” Yulia started, running her fingers along the pole of her staff as she tried to find the words, “well, about the Festival, maybe we could find a way to celebrate it after all? It’s just, um, the way you described it, it sounded really nice, and since mother’s still recovering, I thought it might be nice for us to do something that’d make her feel better?”
This girl, Anastasia thought. Always thinking about other people.
Yulia’s mother, Lina, was one of the rebellion’s medics. The latest skirmish with one of the Empire’s patrols had seen her injured. The wound had been concerning, but the rebellion took care of their own, and her recovery had been coming along nicely after some surgery and bedrest, as much as she’d insisted on trying to get back to work before she’d fully healed.
It was clear where Yulia got her stubbornness from.
Anastasia was stirred at a sudden thought. If it weren’t for people like Yulia’s mother, where would the rebellion be? In fact, if it weren’t for each and every one of the individuals who risked their lives for it, would there be any rebellion at all? Perhaps it had been difficult to find time to come together and celebrate, but there were no shortage of reasons for why they should.
Anastasia shot Yulia a firm grin. “I think I can pull a few strings.”
###
“Absolutely not, Ana.”
Okay, maybe this is going to take a little more effort than anticipated, Anastasia thought to herself as she leaned against the desk in Natasha’s study.
She was in and out multiple times per day, usually to bring news or discuss strategy with her, but making a case for celebrating the Winter Festival was a new one.
“Well,” Anastasia started, though as the seconds stretched on, she struggled to conjure up a particularly good rebuttal. There were multiple reasons she’d joined forces with Natasha in the first place, and one of them was precisely that her own skills in diplomacy were less than stellar. It was her sword arm that usually did the talking. Still, she’d promised Yulia to try, and she wanted it to happen as well.
Natasha wore a sympathetic smile as she turned over a page and continued writing. “Don’t misunderstand, I do think it’s a good idea, in theory. But in practice we’re quite busy with trying to fight back against the Empire. Celebrating the Winter Festival is a luxury I’m not sure we can afford at the moment.”
Anastasia pushed away from the desk and turned as though she’d just seen the chink in her compatriot’s armour. “Ah, see! There’s another thing!”
“What?” Natasha glanced up, looking alarmed.
“You,” the mouse said, jabbing a finger at Natasha, “need to take a break.”
“I hardly have time for taking a load off, Ana,” Natasha said. “There’s work to be done all the time, and I…”
And that was exactly when Natasha yawned, raising a hand to try and stifle it unsuccessfully. Anastasia grinned, performing a mock curtsey and holding her hand out towards the polar bear princess.
“My point exactly,” she said smugly.
“An irrelevant point, really. The work doesn’t go away just because I could benefit from taking a break.”
Anastasia blew some air, glancing around Natasha’s tent as if looking for another weapon after being disarmed. The image of Lina came to mind, raring to get back to work despite her wounds. “Okay, putting you aside, it’d be good for morale—I mean, it’s been a tough winter, everyone’s been working so hard, we’ve got some folk who’re injured… and I mean, yes, okay, we’re not in the best position for festivities, but are we ever going to be until we’ve dismantled the Empire? What is it you always say?”
“Perfect is the enemy of good,” they said in unison.
Natasha looked thoughtful for a moment, fidgeting with her pen. “Well… yes, it would help lift everyone’s spirits, to have something to look forward to. Some light amidst the dark.”
“Exactly!”
“And so we loop back to the problem,” Natasha continued. “It isn’t just me who’s busy. Just about everyone in this camp has at least one responsibility resting on their shoulders, and if they drop that responsibility to focus on setting up a celebration, then it causes the entire chain of responsibility to begin falling apart. I can’t do much to help oversee the preparations myself.”
At the sight of Anastasia’s stumped expression, Natasha continued. “Logistically, is this something we have the capacity to do, given how much there is to do around the camp on a daily basis?”
No, was the answer that came to mind for Anastasia first, but…
Scenes of warmth and happiness bubbled up from the depths of her memories as she gazed into the light of an oil lamp. Even when the winters were harsh, even when the mines had been cruel, it was something they had that couldn’t be taken away from her and her family—their own happiness, and their own hope. That was something they all could use, now more than ever, a way to remind everyone of what it was they were fighting for in the first place.
“Let me help,” Anastasia said, pressing her hands into Natasha’s table. “I’ll do whatever’s needed to help grease the festive wheel.”
Natasha raised a brow. “You really mean this, don’t you?”
“Of course I do! When I was a child, we’d always find a way to celebrate the Festival—always, even if times were tough, and even if it was brief. It used to mean a lot to me. The happiness it gave me, I want to share that with everyone. Our friends, our family. They deserve a moment of respite.”
Humming, Natasha set back in her chair for a moment. “Upon your shoulders be it, then.”
“Really?”
“Yes, if you can make it happen.”
“Perfect!” Anastasia said with a victorious smile. “That said, any thoughts on where I might start?”
“Hm.” Natasha thought for a moment. “I do. You won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
“Avel.”
Anastasia grit her teeth. “Of course. The cranky old bird hates my guts, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Natasha said. “But, what is it you always say…?”
“Approach every task with grace and elegance,” they said in unison, again.
Anastasia’s ‘catchphrase’, one she’d taken to after they first met and she was in a phase of wanting to present herself with a particular air of refinement around the princess. They’d been younger. Anastasia was still finding herself. It was messy and made her bristle to recall.
“How long are you going to torture me with that?” Anastasia said with a nervous chuckle. As much as it embarrassed her, it was nice to see Natasha able to come out of her shell enough to feel comfortable poking fun at her, even if only in private.
The brains and the brawn, the introverted bookworm and the scrappy street urchin. They complimented each other’s talents well.
“Oh, we’ll see,” Natasha said. “Now, I should get back to writing these missives—oh, and… try not to eat Avel’s snacks again, won’t you?”
###
Anastasia pulled her shawl closer around herself as she trod through the snow toward the armoury. For all that it was especially cold that day, the camp was full of as much bustle as any other day, the settled snow cleared from the commonly trod paths by footfall alone.
Rebellion didn’t cease for snow days.
Arriving outside of the heavy, padlocked oaken door, she brought the knocker down with a heavy thud, and then a few times more for good measure.
A moment later, the door was lugged open by a crow who looked a lot like a wizened string bean. His jet feathers weren’t quite as sleek as they may have once been, but his eyes were no less beady and keen.
“If it isn’t my favourite person to see so early in the morning,” he said.
“Avel,” Anastasia replied curtly, trying to keep Natasha’s advice in mind—if she couldn’t be friends with Avel, she could at least try to be courteous and keep their interaction brief. Even if she was sure he was fishing for a rise. To think that a single glazed bun could be the cause of so much animosity. “G’morning.”
“You don’t need a weapon,” he said, glancing down to the rapier at her side, “so what do you need?”
Anastasia cleared her throat. “I’m here to ask about setting up some celebrations for the Winter Festival. Nothing too extensive, just something to give us all an evening of respite,” she said, before hastily adding, “at Natasha’s urging.”
He regarded her for a long moment. “With Natasha’s urging?”
“Alright, maybe that’s not quite the right word, so how about… her… approval?”
“Mm.” The man crooked a brow and scratched at his chin. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find the idea of dusting off the old party planning skills somewhat appealing. Sun knows we don’t get to do much of that outside of the capital. But you’ve picked a poor time for it, Anastasia. A sled’s late on delivery, one of my men is ill, and I need to take inventory. It's all going on, you see.”
“Okay, so… assuming you will do it, just—hypothetically—is there anything I can do right now? To get the ball rolling?”
The crow tutted. “You got absolutely nothing else to be doing?”
When she just shrugged and kept her gaze fixed on him, he relented.
“Alright, alright, go find Misha,” he said. “Can’t really throw much of a celebration without them, so you may as well go find out if they’re keen on the idea. If not, it’s a nonstarter.”
“Misha? Why?”
“What, you ever been to a good party that didn't have food and drink?”
She reckoned he made a good point.
“Okay. I can do that,” she said. “I’ll be back later. With good news, hopefully.”
“Mm,” he said, going to close the door before adding, “oh, and try not to swipe anything from the cooling racks when you’re in the kitchen.”
The door was shut before she could spin on her heel to riposte.
###
Finding Misha was not a difficult task—one only ever had to follow the delicious scent of food.
“Don’t think I don’t see you lurking around the entrance to my tent, Anastasia,” came the provisioner’s voice from in front of a large simmering pot. “Now, I know it smells good, but it isn’t quite ready yet. I might be able to whip you up a snack, though, if that’s why you’re stalking around.”
Anastasia’s mouth watered at the thought. Breakfast had been a bit light. “What’re you cooking?”
“It’s just a stew, but it’s got plenty of big, hearty vegetables in it, as well as some of the banther meat from last week’s hunt,” Misha explained, tapping Anastasia’s shoulder to stop her from almost literally following her nose into the pot. “Between the furs and hide, and the bones and meat, Nik probably kept the camp running for a whole month with that hunt.”
Misha’s ability to take basic ingredients and elevate them into the sort of meal one might find in a high-class Altiziman restaurant had made them just about everyone’s favourite person. No doubt the Pola Rebellion ate far better than most would have expected them to, but thus was the power of Misha’s culinary magic.
“You’re telling me…” Anastasia said. “But, um, no. Tempt me later, I’m here with important work right now.”
“Oh, well, important work,” Misha said with a chuckle. “You should’ve said so. Anything I’m clued in on?”
“You’re about to be.” Anastasia clasped her hands together and put on her best sympathy-garnering expression. “I’m trying to organise some celebrations for the Winter Festival.”
Misha perked up noticeably at that. “Oh, that sounds wonderful! I don’t think anyone around here has had a chance to celebrate the Festival in quite some time.”
“Exactly, and so I was wondering if you’d be able to help with some food for the celebration. Nothing too fancy, don’t get me wrong, just a little treat for everyone while we’re huddled around the fire.”
Misha hummed as they stirred the stew around. “Well, I’d love to!”
“Excellent!”
“Only,” Misha continued, “it may prove somewhat difficult.”
Anastasia wasn’t sure why she’d expected anything different. It seemed today was turning out to be a day of ‘buts’. “I know you’re busy. If there’s anything I can do…”
“Actually, it isn’t a matter of time,” Misha said. “I’d be delighted to set some time aside to make some treats for everyone. The problem is that for all of the banther meat and vegetables we’re stocked up on, a delivery we’re expecting hasn’t made it yet. The larder’s running low as far as baked goods go… in fact, this stew won’t even have any bread to go with it, which is a crying shame.”
“Huh,” Anastasia hummed, her brow creasing in thought. “Avel mentioned something similar about a delivery being expected but not having made it to camp yet.”
Misha tapped the wooden spoon against the large pot and set it aside, their expression making it clear that they shared Anastasia’s budding concern. “That doesn’t sound quite right.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Anastasia ran her hand across the handle of the blade at her waist. “I’ll go look into it.”
“I hope it’s nothing too serious,” Misha said. “I’ll happily prepare something for everyone, provided nothing too sinister has happened to the sled.”
Anastasia nodded in agreement. “Thanks, Misha. I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out what’s going on.”
“I’ve every confidence I’ll be baking for the celebration before the end of the evening with you on the case,” Misha said. “Stay warm out there, Anastasia.”
Anastasia waved and turned to leave.
“Oh,” Misha piped up, “did you want that snack?”
Anastasia hummed in mock consideration before turning on her heel and walking right back into the tent. “Okay, for the road.”
###
When Anastasia left the kitchen and headed back out into the snow-laden encampment, she felt renewed. She’d been a little peckish, but Misha’s snack had seen to that. It wasn’t only a full belly that had her feeling renewed, though, it was the purpose she’d gained from her chat with the cook. Anastasia had always been at her best when she had a goal to work towards and a means by which to work towards it, and now she knew there was something strange going on with their supply line.
It could’ve been nothing, or it could’ve been the start of uncovering something worse. Not a very festive prospect, to be sure, but she intended to get to the bottom of it one way or another, for everyone’s sake as well as for Yulia’s wish.
Just as she was about to start investigating, Anastasia noticed that there was some kind of commotion going on at the camp’s perimeter. She wasted no time rushing over to see what was happening. On the approach, she noticed a person with a bow strapped to his back, disheveled and looking as though he’d just dashed back through the wastes in a hurry, as well as some of the camp’s gate guards. Yulia was there too, on the outskirts of the group, concern written on her face.
“Yulia?”
The young mage turned and was visibly relieved at the sight. “Ana!”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s not good,” Yulia said, clutching her staff. “The, um, the supply sled—it’s stranded out in the wastes!”
The disheveled man who Anastasia now realised was one of the sled crew chimed in. “We were delayed a few days to avoid being caught out by a convoy, repositioning soldiers, we think—and then our sled’s core shattered a few hours out from the camp.”
A creeping sense of dread danced up Anastasia’s spine. Without an elemental wind core to help power the sled, the rugged terrain of the Ursa Wastes was nearly impossible to navigate. “Wasn’t there a spare core on board?”
“Yes, but when we went to use it we found it was flawed. It took us further, but not far enough before it failed,” he said with a grim shake of his head. “It’s been a string of rotten luck. We agreed I’d rush back to get help, but who knows how long the rest of the crew can sit out in the wastes before something else goes wrong?”
“Right, then I’ll head out immediately,” Anastasia said. “Do you know where the sled broke down?”
“Just south of Rasvin Rock.”
At least that wasn’t too far out. Small mercies.
“Alright. Great work. You head to the medical tent and get checked over.”
He thanked the mouse and left, leaving Anastasia with Yulia and the camp’s gate guards.
Yulia was quick to turn to Anastasia. “I’ll come with you,” she said, her voice full of determination. “I can help!”
“Couple of years too early for that, Yulia,” Anastasia said with a smile. “It’s harsh out there, and there’s a chance this could turn into something a lot worse than it already seems. Besides, I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Lina if I got you hurt.”
“But… I’m stronger than I seem,” she said. “You know that!”
“I do.” Anastasia smiled, planting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And I think you’re reliable, too, which is why I’m trusting you to go tell Natasha what’s happening.”
Yulia’s eyes lit up. “Me?”
“Yeah. It’s important, and I’d do it myself, but I don’t have time. I have to take a spare wind core and head out straight away if we want to get that sled and the people on it home safe…”
There was a flicker of pride in the young polar bear’s eyes. “Leave it to me! I’ll get it done!
“I know you will,” Anastasia said. “I’ll be back in no time.”
“Stay safe!”
“Thanks, Yulia!”
And Anastasia would stay safe—she had to, because how else were they going to celebrate the Winter Festival? She’d made a promise to Yulia, and she wasn’t one to break her promises.
###
The Snowpiercer's innards groaned as Anastasia pushed a little harder on the throttle, sleet and snow flecking her goggles and fur. Rasvin Rock was fast looming into view. The way ahead was littered with boulders, and the Snowpiercer - held mostly together with her sheer faith at this point, gave another deep complaint as she swerved between them.
It'd be fine. She'd worked with less enduring partners on her travels. At this point, she'd be worried by the silence of a newer machine. They had to make do with what they found, noise and all.
Anastasia had been anticipating a difficult search for the stranded sled, but the sound of a shot rang out amidst the howling winds. It was difficult to tell exactly which direction it came from, but then another two shots followed it. Panic bloomed through the mouse as she courted the myriad possibilities of what those sounds could herald, even as she used them to navigate toward her goal.
With any luck, the sled’s crew had simply noticed her first and were guiding her.
What she saw as the shape of the sled emerged saw her blood run cold. The shots had led her in the direction of a cluster of trees nearby Rasvin Rock, where the sled was half-sheltered, just enough that it was harder to see for someone who wasn't looking for it.
It was beset upon by elementals. At a glance, Anastasia counted perhaps half a dozen of them, some little more than an animated slurry, but a few with more coherent forms. She almost missed when their main concern was the wolves native to the frozen valley where they made their base. The elementals were harrying the sled, its two occupants standing atop it and trying to fend them off with gunshots and striking with the stocks of their guns to little effect.
Anastasia leaned into her vehicle's controls, urging it to go faster, barreling towards the scene. She swerved at the last moment to ram the side of the snowpiercer into the elementals, scattering their forms across the snow, but she knew it wouldn't be long before they reformed.
Either they tried to escape with the elementals in pursuit, or they stood their ground and dispatched them here.
“Anastasia, am I happy to see you,” came the voice of the large wolf named Nik as he lowered his rifle. “Managed to shatter a few of their cores, but I'm running low on slugs.”
“Right,” Anastasia replied, breathless as she pulled a rope from the back of the vehicle and flung it over. The other person on the sled caught it handily. “We're going to have to move and fight them off at the same time.”
The sled was tied to the snowpiercer in no time, but the elementals were just as quick to lumber back into being. They wouldn't be able to tow the sled that quickly. She couldn't just abandon the snowpiercer and transfer the wind core to the sled—they didn't exactly have vehicles to spare. This was going to be difficult.
“Take the snowpiercer,” Anastasia said to the other member of the sled crew, gritting her teeth as she climbed off and clambered up onto the sled. The man nodded, jumping down into the snow to take her place.
“What's the plan?” Nik asked.
“We’re going to keep them at bay, destroy them ideally, while we get the sled moving,” she said, drawing her sword. “These ones, the ice ones—they’re slow. If we keep moving while we work on destroying them, they won't be able to overwhelm our position.”
“That's going to be difficult. We don't have much of a means of getting to their cores!”
“I'll use magic.”
“What? Isn't your magic cold-aspected? They're made of ice and snow!” Nik shouted back. “How's that going to work?”
“I've got more than a few tricks up my sleeve,” Anastasia said. The air was rich with aether thanks to the elementals. She could feel it like a gentle tickle against her fur. “Let's get this sled going!”
The crewman on the snowpiercer hollered back affirmatively, and they were moving a moment later, albeit slowly. That was all they needed, though.
“Nik, save your slugs,” Anastasia said. The wolf grunted in acknowledgement, tense but steady—the disposition of a soldier.
Anastasia admittedly knew very little about elementals, except that their only purpose seemed to be to bring ruin. Was that true? Was there some deeper truth to the phenomenon of the elemental unrest? It didn't matter to her either way. For as long as they threatened her allies and her home, she would fight against them. As they swirled back to life and began lurching like a gelid wave toward the sled, Anastasia breathed deep, and drew in the aether around her.
This type of magic was comparatively new to her. There was a sliver of doubt in the back of her mind that she would falter and fail. She ignored it. Instead, she pictured the flames of Misha's stove and recalled the warmth of her family home. Her veins ran with fire as her hair billowed on the waves of magic surging around her.
“Burn!” she exclaimed, clenching her fist before releasing a mighty spout of fire from her open palm. It scorched a path across the snow behind the sled, the loose forms of the elementals melting from the heat. A wall of residual flame remained, stymying their attempts to swirl back into shape and continue their relentless advance.
Anastasia wasn't done yet. She squinted and saw them, glimmering in the light of the flame—elemental cores resting in the snow. As useful as they were, in a situation like this, they couldn't try to take them. They had to be destroyed to ensure the elementals stopped reforming.
“Nik,” Anastasia said.
“I see them,” Nik said, standing firm as he aimed down the barrel of his rifle. A shot rang out and one of the cores was shattered, a vortex of magical energy exploding out of it in a burst of shimmering light.
Anastasia wasn't done either. She pointed her sword forward, toward one of the cores. A thick needle of ice surged forth from the tip of her blade, around which she weaved a spiral of flame—the magical projectile embedded itself into the core and the flame consumed it a moment later. The aftermath of the core explosion was even greater than the last, the overabundance of aether from the core enhancing the remnants of Anastasia's spell.
“We make a good team,” Nik commented as he took another shot. “On your left!”
Anastasia snapped her attention to the left to see one of the creatures skimming toward the sled. She flung a ball of flame at it, only skimming past its side, exposing its core—Nik’s shot rang out not a second later, and his aim was true. The sphere exploded into aetheric dust.
They continued working in tandem, ice, fire, and steel, warding off the persistent elementals until, finally, the sled had made enough progress and enough of their foes had been dispatched that they emerged victorious and the assault subsided.
When peace finally fell over then, the state of focus Anastasia had entered lifted, and all of the fatigue from spellcasting wracked her at once. She sat and caught her breath as Nik did much the same, watching as the white-clad environment slowly passed her by.
“Fancy fire magic,” Nik said, draping himself over a tarp-covered crate. “I’ll learn a trick or two myself, some day, I swear.”
“Of course you will,” Anastasia said.
“Oh, I will,” he continued, “definitely–-village elder said I might have a knack for wind magic, reckon I could use it to make my bullets go faster.”
After a few moments, they’d caught their breath, though Anastasia suspected casting the unfamiliar magic had taxed her more than she was used to.
“Used to be we were worried about Empire patrols and packs of wolves, a banther here and there,” Nik commented. He took out his canteen and took a long gulp. “Seems these days elementals are the problem. Even the Empire has to contend with them.”
“We'll need to start stocking the sleds with a solution… some alchemical fire, perhaps, or just more torches.” Anastasia sighed. “Less space for the actual supplies we need, but if elementals are going to continue to be such a problem, then… well, it beats losing the whole sled.”
“We can raise it as a concern later,” Nik said. “I need to have a word with Avel anyway.”
“Let's get back in one piece first.” Anastasia heaved herself back up to her feet. “Time to push the sled.”
###
Anastasia wasn't sure if she should thank the Empyreans or just plain old luck, but the remainder of the journey back to camp was completely without incident. Between the battle and pushing the sled, she felt floppier than a limp fish by the time they were getting in through the gates, but she wasn't about to collapse on the job.
As the sled was unloaded, Anastasia was taken to the medical tent alongside the rest of the sled's crew. A waste of time, because she knew she wasn't injured, but she'd never hear the end of it from Natasha if word got back to her.
It finally gave her a chance to rest, too, not that she'd admit she needed it.
She was the last to be tended. Miraculously, nobody was wounded beyond a few scrapes and bruises. Anastasia was the last to be let go from the tent. As she made her way back to the command building to speak with Natasha, she came to a halt, raised voices carried on the blustery wind—and one of them was most certainly Nik. The other, she was quick to realise, was Avel.
No prizes for guessing what they were arguing about, she figured.
“And I'm saying things could've been a lot worse because of that flawed core,” Nik said as Anastasia jogged up behind him. “If we can't rely on our equipment, how can we operate?”
Avel looked entirely unimpressed as the wolf gesticulated wildly.
“We do our best to maintain our equipment and supplies, Nik,” the bird cut in through Nik's words. “And more to the point, we're a rebellion, a faction of dissidents. There's no such thing as reliable equipment, only good enough equipment, and it's my team that makes sure the cores don't do what they did today every other time we use them. If you're going to cast aspersions, I recommend you take them elsewhere—”
“Stop, please,” Anastasia said, coming between them. “Let's not argue about this. It's the last thing we need.”
“I don't know about that, Anastasia, given that without you showing up we may have lost a sled and its crew. Not quite a small matter,” Nik said.
“Yes, but we didn't lose anyone, and we didn't lose the sled, so what's the use in pointing fingers!”
Avel exhaled sharply, rustling his dark feathers. The two men glared at one another. It was clear as day that Nik had more to say, but he was biting his tongue successfully—save for the indignant shaking of his head.
“I apologise,” Nik said, finally. “The last few weeks have been stressful.”
There was silence, for a moment, until Avel grunted in agreement. “That it has, Nik.”
“I know your people do good work. You're an asset to us all and—”
“Oh, don't start getting mushy,” Avel said. “All's forgiven. And I am concerned about the core, and you were right to be too. I'll take a look at the rest of our stock, double check for flaws.”
Anastasia sighed quietly, relieved that the situation had defused itself. Sun knows she wouldn't have been able to talk them down. If anything, she'd have made it worse.
“Hard not to feel like the deck's stacked against us recently, between the Empire's movements, the elementals, and everything else,” Nik said. “No time for rest, though, I suppose.”
Anastasia cleared her throat. “About that.”
Avel chuckled. “Ah, yes.”
Nik simply looked confused as he glanced between them. “Am I missing something?”
Anastasia arched a brow at Avel. “Is he?”
“Well… With the supplies in, I think I can carve out some time to set something up—oh, but Misha…?”
“Misha was also waiting for the supplies to come in,” Anastasia said. “They're happy to rustle something up.”
“Ah, well then. Good, good. I may need some help with setting everything up and getting the word out, but perhaps we'll be celebrating the Winter Festival after all.”
###
It had proven to be a particularly cold winter that year, even by the standards of the Ursa Wastes, but the encampment of the Pola Rebellion had never felt warmer.
Colourful bunting hung overhead, and the air buzzed with excitement. Misha stood next to one of the supply sleds that had been decorated and wrapped in all sorts of lights thanks to a spot of creative elemental magic. With the supplies that had come in, they were able to whip up all sorts of classic Winter Festival treats, and were handing out warm spiced drinks and baked goods for all.
It may not have been much, but they'd scraped together what decorations they could find, and as far as Anastasia was concerned, it was more than enough. What mattered was that everyone was together, and festivity was in the air.
Anastasia watched with a smile as Nik, Avel, and a few others—including Lina, who had insisted on getting away from bed rest for the event—animatedly discussed something she couldn't quite make out over the din.
For the first time in a long time, it seemed like everyone had forgotten their woes, and no matter where she looked, each and every face was a smiling one.
It was just like how she remembered it, and it made her heart warm.
A chorus of happy laughter rang out as a shower of glittering white-blue sparkles emerged from Yulia's staff. Anastasia caught the girl's eye, who was quick to wave to the others and come rushing over.
“Here comes the hard worker,” Anastasia said.
“Ana! Mother’s really happy! She said all of this reminds her of the good old days!” Yulia beamed. “Thank you so much!”
“It wasn't just me,” Anastasia replied. “Couldn't have done it without everyone's help. Including yours!”
“Ah,” came a new voice, “if it isn't the masterminds behind the festivities.”
“Miss Natasha!” Yulia clutched her staff.
“Yulia, thank you again for carrying the message to me so swiftly,” Natasha said. “You did a commendable job.”
The girl practically radiated joy. “I—I’m glad!”
“I think your mother's looking for you,” Anastasia chimed in.
“Oh!” The young girl whipped around to see her mother waving at her. “Okay! Bye for now, Anastasia, Natasha!”
“Training tomorrow, Yulia?” Anastasia called after her.
“Of course!”
A comfortable quiet settled over Natasha and Anastasia for a while afterwards. For the mouse's part, she was happy to simply absorb the atmosphere.
“Ana,” Natasha eventually said. “You were right. This was a good idea… no, maybe even a necessary one.”
“I can't take all the credit. It was Yulia who brought it up in the first place.”
“Yulia,” Natasha echoed wistfully. They both watched as she ran to Lina and was brought close into her mother's arms. “She's a strong girl, but I wish things were different for her. She should be living a child's life, not… this.”
“That's what we're fighting for, Tasha.”
“Mm.”
Natasha was prone to solemnity, to self-criticism, to believing she could never do enough. Anastasia saw that look on her face that most might call unreadable, but that she knew to be the princess mired in her own thoughts.
"We'll win, Natasha. One day, things will be better. Maybe not tomorrow, or even the day after, but one day."
“You're right. We mustn't forget what we're fighting for,” Natasha finally said, staring out over the camp. “Freedom, peace, levity. Better times to come. Even in the midst of our struggle, there must always be a time for joy. Thank you for reminding me of that, Ana.”
Anastasia smiled and raised her drink. “What are friends for? Besides, you needed an evening away from that desk of yours.”
“Indeed,” Natasha said, raising her own. “To the future?”
“To the future.”