3.2 LIGHT

Facing an expanse of fractured ice, Juna and Ste Etienne realize the “water gaps” are actually a single translucent, tentacular organism gripping and shaping the ice. Forced forward when the briars give way, they test the surface; the vast ice-dweller bears the pod’s weight while Shrouded escort forage and observe.

Progress is precarious: the ice groans, the surface teems with crushable living grit, and towering stalks sway far above. Islands of briar colonies interrupt the dweller’s domain. When they try to rest, the ice-dweller withdraws beneath their parked pod; the surface collapses, and only the Shrouded’s quick hauling saves them, teaching that the dweller rejects persistent cover.

They press on, witnessing wind-adapted skaters with sails and glimpsing a colossal, drag-arched glider tethered to unseen heights. To maintain pace and sanity, Juna and Ste Etienne adopt alternating shifts, with overlap for training and vigilance.

Sensing a shoreline by changed swell patterns, they edge along the dweller’s trailing margin and occasionally break through unstable ice. Beyond the dweller’s reach, the field becomes loose floes and a slow-rolling berg, forcing a course change while they hunt a safer passage.

Predators shaped like surface “sharks” appear, buoyant and swift among the floes, then clamber onto ice using concealed limbs. As the threat closes, the Shrouded close ranks around the pod—apparently protective—then abruptly shift behind and beneath it, preventing escape. In a decisive betrayal, they lever the pod off the ice and tip it into the sea as the predators circle.