White Force

Into the Blue

ANYA

"Anya..." Cros' muffled voice seemed so very far away, almost as if he'd been standing on the other side of the mountain. Reality was, he only stood feet behind me at the cave's mouth, waiting for my reaction to the view before me. Only I had no reaction.

Weeks. It had taken weeks to get here. Many cold nights were spent yearning to come face to face with the winter stone - my people's saving grace. And finally, I stood before it. I stood in front of the most magnificent sight I had the fortune of beholding.

The cave was endless. Crystal-like shards of winter stone hung from the curved ceiling. It glistened like fresh icecyles formed after a cold night. Mounds of stone formed on the grounds, trailing along the edges of the cave. They called to me, a whisper as light as wind, and I silently stood before its glory, completely transfixed. Completely overcome.

Finally, after the horrors I'd seen, after treacherous hours of starvation and soul snatching cold, I could exhale. Finally, I could find peace, even if it was the smallest glimmer hope. It was mine.

"Anya," Cros called again.

Too entranced by my surroundings, I continued to ignore him and journeyed farther into the den of stone.

"Power." It was one word. It was a word that summed up the entirety of the cave. Power. Enough power to restore all that was lost.

I stopped in front of a hanging shard. My hands reached forward, grabbing onto the stone. Power unfurled around me, cold and deep; it wrapped its invisible talons around my hands, traveling upward, and it clawed at my mind as if asking to be invited in.

I yanked my hand away, afraid of what I had felt so deep within. Was it power? Was this power dangerous? Did I dare possess it? I had held winter stone before, but nothing like this.

My hand trembled as I suspended it midair, but I dared to meet with the stone once again, eager for more.

"Do you feel it? The energy of this cave that calls to you," Cros began. "This cave is older than our ancestors. It is as old as the earth itself.

"Many have journied and died to stand where you are, Anya. They braved a cold that could almost freeze their bones just to feel what you are feeling. Only a few have had the privilege to see this cave with their own eyes and live to tell about it.

"It's why there are only a few stones found in all of Iceland. Many have come but few have achieved."

Cros' breath was against my ear as he continued to speak. I would have jumped had I not been completely filled with power and strength just from simply holding on to the winter stone in its rarest, jagged form.

"Do you understand? Only the most worthy have touched this stone."

"I can feel it within me...like a surge of energy. Almost as if it wants to become me. Almost as if it knows me. It feels alive. How?"

"I've heard stories as well as seen visions," Cros began. He came into my vision and reached just above my hand to feel the stone. His eyes were alight, like the shimmering sea kissed by the sun, and he marvel at the stone as he continued. "These were the mountains our ancestors lived and died in, back when the earth shifted and became two distinct lands. It is said that these stones hold the spirits of those before us. Those who never made it out of the mountain.