CHAPTER 87: MANA COLD IS THE PROBLEM.

The weak flame resisted the wind, but Ester knew it wouldn’t last. Damon needed more than makeshift warmth—he needed real shelter.

She looked up and saw, through the veils of the blizzard, the dark silhouette of a rocky wall to the east. The vertical lines, stark against the fury of the ice, suggested a crevice or cave at its base.

"Let’s get out of here," she said firmly, dismantling the small pile of twigs before the wind could scatter dangerous sparks.

Damon tried to protest, but the sound that came out was only a faint grunt. His body was still shaking uncontrollably.

Ester didn’t wait for an answer. She slipped one arm under his legs and the other around his back, lifting him with a precise movement. His weight strained her muscles, and the soft snow slowed each step, but she didn’t hesitate.

"You’re heavier than you look," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Damon pressed his face against her shoulder, his uneven breath gently warming her neck. "Always... compliments..." he murmured, halfway between laughter and pain.

Ester ignored him. She pressed her lips together, keeping her gaze fixed on the distant wall. The storm roared against her body, trying to push her back, but each step was pure stubbornness. The wind whipped at her cloak, tearing away particles of snow that clung to her hair, turning her into a moving statue.

"Just a little longer," she said, more to herself than to Damon. "Hold on."

He let out a low sound, somewhere between agreement and weakness. His fingers, still aching, gripped tightly to the fabric of her clothing, as if it were the bond keeping him awake.

With every meter, the wall drew closer, revealing details. The rocks were covered in thick layers of ice, forming irregular patterns. Up ahead, a shadow seemed to cut through the monotony of the wall—a dark opening, partially hidden by icy stalactites.

Ester’s heart pounded. A cave. Or at least something that would serve as refuge.

She quickened her pace, even though her legs burned. The sound of her breathing mingled with the roar of the storm, creating a wild rhythm that marked her determination. Damon, hanging in her arms, seemed lighter than he actually was—not because he weighed little, but because the fear of losing him weighed even more heavily.

"We’re almost..." she murmured, squinting against the wind.

When they finally reached the opening, Ester turned sideways to pass through the icy stalactites. The interior of the cave was cold, yes, but silent. The roar of the wind immediately faded, replaced by a deep, distant echo.

She sighed, feeling a brief relief, but she didn’t allow herself to rest. She slowly lowered herself and laid Damon down on a flat rock covered in frozen moss. He groaned softly, but his half-closed eyes followed her, as if still trying to follow her every movement.

Ester pulled off her gloves, rubbing her hands vigorously. The cold bit her skin, but she didn’t care. Quickly, she began gathering dry stones, pieces of wood hardened by the ice that had accumulated at the cave entrance. With deliberate movements, she built a small, makeshift fire.

The initial crackle was fragile, but soon a flame rose, casting dancing shadows on the cave walls. The heat began to spread, timid but real.

Ester approached Damon and pulled him a little closer to the fire. The flame illuminated his face—pale, tired, but alive.

She knelt beside him, her heart pounding, and whispered softly, almost like a promise:

"You won’t die here." Not while I’m with you.

Damon opened his eyes just enough to look at her. A faint smile played across his chapped lips. "Always... so bossy..."

Ester sighed, but couldn’t contain the strange heat that grew in her chest. With a firm gesture, she ran her fingers across his forehead, brushing away the damp strands of snow and ice.

Outside, the storm still raged. But inside that cave, amidst fire, breath, and silence, there was a fragile moment of life.

Ester kept her hand on his forehead for a few seconds, assessing. The faint heat from the fire reflected against his pale skin, but her body didn’t follow. He was still trembling—not just from being wet and exhausted, but from something deeper, something burning inside with invisible ice.

Her trained gaze captured the detail: his skin, even close to the flames, didn’t gain enough color. The cold seemed to come from within, not from without.

Ester narrowed her eyes.

This isn’t ordinary hypothermia...

She moved closer, placing her hand on his chest, feeling the irregular flow of his mana. The waves were unstable, colliding with each other, like a river forced to change course. It was frigid, so frigid that even her own natural affinity for the cold felt the impact.

"Idiot..." she murmured, her voice deep, almost irritated. "You’re not just freezing."

Damon’s eyes moved slowly, trying to focus on her. "What... do you mean...?"

Ester took a deep breath. She had felt this before. In the most intense training sessions, when trying to expand her own Frost Qi, when her body felt like it was cracking from within. That cold that didn’t come from the snow, but from his own mana trying to rebuild his body in its own way.

"It’s your body," she said firmly, as if explaining to herself. "It’s trying to adapt to the Cold Qi you absorbed. Your mana is transforming."

Damon blinked slowly, and a faint smile appeared, broken by the pain. "So... I’m going to turn into... an ice cube?"

Ester narrowed her eyes, ignoring the joke. "You could die if you don’t control this."

She closed her eyes for a moment, calculating. His body was in shock. The Cold Qi he had absorbed wasn’t natural to him. Every cell seemed to reject it, while another part insisted on accepting it. The internal battle resulted in a cold so intense that the mere heat of the fire couldn’t penetrate.

She slid her hands up to hold his. The contrast was frightening—fingers hard, almost brittle, like thin glass.

"Listen, Damon." His voice was firm, but charged with something deeper. "I can stabilize this... but it won’t be easy."

He let out a weak laugh. "It never is... with you."

Ester ignored him again, though the pang of worry in her chest made her grip on his fingers tighten.

"I need to transfer some of my Qi to you. If I do it right, your body will be able to accept the energy without destroying itself in the process."

Damon opened one eye, not missing the opportunity to tease, even on the verge of collapse. "That... sounds intimate."

Ester rolled her eyes and replied dryly, "Shut up."

But deep down, she knew it too. The technique she needed to use required closeness, synchronicity—contact. It wasn’t something you did with just anyone. It was an intertwining of energies so profound it could confuse bodies and souls if executed poorly.

She took a deep breath, pulling him a little closer to the fire. Her own Icy Qi began to move within her, pulsing in a controlled, cold, and steady rhythm.

Damon’s eyes followed her, even half-lidded, and for a moment there was no mockery, only silent trust.

Ester stared back at him, determined. "Don’t die." The sentence came out more like an order than a request.

He smiled, albeit weakly. "I don’t plan on... giving you that job."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself. She knew that from this moment on, there would be no room for error—or distractions. The cold that was killing Damon was the same that coursed through her veins. And she would be the one who would have to show him how to survive it.

The storm raged outside, but inside the cave, the silence was broken only by the crackling of the fire and the strong beating of Ester’s heart.