CHAPTER 26: CHAPTER 25. SPIRITUALIST

The path through the Dreadfang Mountains is like riding into a dream spun from frost and shadow. The air is sharp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and cold stone, every breath a cloud of mist.

Snow clung to the branches of ancient, towering evergreens, the white so pure it seemed to glow in the pale light of dawn. Frozen waterfalls shimmered like walls of crystal, catching hints of blue and silver as the sun broke weakly through the clouds.

Vivianne sat in front of Roxanne, wrapped securely in her wife’s arms. The steady rhythm of the warhorse’s gait rocked them gently, and despite the biting cold, Vivianne felt safe and warm against Roxanne’s chest. The heat radiating from Roxanne’s half-demon body seeped through layers of fabric, chasing away the chill that tried to creep into Vivianne’s bones.

Roxanne had strapped Vivianne securely against her body before they set out, just in case Vivianne fell asleep while they were still riding. That way, Vivianne wouldn’t have to worry about falling off the horse or feel like she was a burden to Roxanne.

Roxanne had everything under control, as always. Being held so close, pressed tightly against her wife, gave Vivianne a deep sense of comfort. She could feel Roxanne’s steady heartbeat, the warmth of her body, and the gentle sway of the horse beneath them.

The higher they climbed, the more breathtaking the view became. Mist curled in the valleys below like soft silver veils, while the peaks ahead loomed like the crowns of ancient gods.

Here and there, the sunlight broke through, scattering over the snow in a thousand tiny sparks. It was wild and dangerous, yet achingly beautiful—the kind of beauty that demanded reverence, as though the mountains themselves were sacred and untamed gods.

The deeper they rode into the heart of the Dreadfang Mountains, the air seemed to hum with unseen power. Vivianne could feel it against her skin, like a gentle caress of energy, filling her lungs with every breath.

The spirits here are strong, so strong that even Undine, the Water Spirit King, stirred restlessly around her, shimmering like liquid light as she circled through the mist, looking happy and excited.

"You feel better, don’t you?" Roxanne’s voice is low and warm against Vivianne’s ear as the horse’s steady gait carries them forward.

Vivianne’s head turned sharply, wide eyes meeting her wife’s knowing smile. "How do you know?"

A soft laugh rumbled in Roxanne’s chest as she tightened her arm protectively around Vivianne’s waist. "Because for a spirit user like you, this mountain is paradise," she said. "The power here answers to you. It strengthens you, heals you."

Her crimson eyes flicked toward the misty slopes around them, her smile taking on a wry edge. "As for a demon kin like me..." She chuckled, a low, rich sound. "It’s like walking straight into enemy territory."

Vivianne’s lips parted, startled. But Roxanne only laughed again, her voice carrying through the cold, mist-heavy air like a flame defying the snow. And somehow, even in the midst of this dangerous, ancient place, Vivianne felt utterly safe, as if no spirit, no monster, and no mountain could ever touch her while she was held in Roxanne’s arms.

After two hours of steady riding, the cold biting harder with every step deeper into the Dreadfang Mountains, Vivianne’s eyelids began to grow heavy. The steady sway of the great warhorse, the warmth of Roxanne’s body behind her, and the muffled crunch of hooves on frozen earth lulled her into drowsiness. Her head tilted slightly, resting against Roxanne’s shoulder as the group pressed forward in silence.

Further back in the column, one of the knights shifted uneasily in his saddle. His sharp, wolf-like ears twitched as he scanned the mist-choked woods surrounding the narrow trail. Finally, he leaned toward the captain riding beside him.

"It’s... strange," he muttered. "We’ve been two hours into these mountains and haven’t run into a single beast. No ambushes, no tracks, nothing." His words held a mix of relief and suspicion. "The Dreadfang is supposed to be crawling with monsters. Shouldn’t we have seen something by now?"

Captain Maxim, a towering warrior with the hulking frame of a bear beastman, didn’t answer at first. His sharp golden eyes stayed fixed ahead, watching the path and the figures leading their formation, Roxanne and Vivianne on the massive black warhorse.

"It’s not luck," Maxim said at last, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. He raised his chin slightly, nodding toward the couple at the head of the group. "Look closely. Up there."

The younger knight frowned and squinted through the mist. "I see them... what about it?" Others nearby followed his gaze, curiosity piqued.

Maxim’s mouth curved into a knowing grin. "Look harder. Around them. Especially around the Grand Duchess."

The knights focused, their keen eyes piercing through the veil of fog and frost. Then, one by one, their expressions shifted—surprise, awe, even a hint of fear. "By the spirits..." someone whispered.

There, weaving and dancing through the air like threads of moonlight, are countless silver wisps. They circled Vivianne and Roxanne’s horse in complicated patterns, growing brighter and more visible the deeper the group traveled into the mountain. The ethereal strands shimmered against the bleak gray landscape, otherworldly and mesmerizing.

"What is that?" a knight breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Maxim’s grin widened, his fangs catching the faint light. "Those are spirits—the very beings that dwell within these mountains. Earth spirits, water spirits, even the ancient ones that most mortals never see. They have gathered around her, our Grand Duchess.

The realization struck the group like a physical blow. Murmurs rippled through the formation as the knights exchanged astonished glances. "She’s... calling them?" another knight asked, his tone reverent.

"No," Maxim corrected, his voice rich with pride. "They’re coming to her willingly. Drawn to her like rivers to the sea. She’s a spiritualist; you’ll know by her purple eyes, and a powerful one at that." His gaze softened slightly as he looked ahead at Vivianne’s delicate form nestled in Roxanne’s arms. "The monsters can feel it too. That’s why the forest has stayed silent."

He straightened in his saddle, his voice carrying to the other knights as the mist swirled tighter around them. "As long as the Grand Duchess rides with us, the creatures of this cursed mountain won’t dare to come near."

For a moment, the company rode in awed silence, their respect for Vivianne deepening with every shimmering thread of light. And at the very front, Vivianne, half-asleep and blissfully unaware, remained curled safely in Roxanne’s arms, completely oblivious to the fearsome power she’s wielding without even trying.

Roxanne immediately noticed how different this expedition felt from any she had ever led before. Usually, the Dreadfang Mountains is a place of constant danger, a land where a moment of distraction could mean death.

Yet the moment they crossed into the mountain’s deeper paths, Vivianne’s body seemed to melt against her, growing looser, calmer, as though she were sinking into the embrace of an old friend.

The change was striking. Vivianne, who had been stiff with nerves at the start of the journey, now rested peacefully in Roxanne’s arms. Her breathing slowed, her head nestled beneath Roxanne’s chin, and the tension that had coiled inside her seemed to dissolve.

And it wasn’t just Vivianne who felt the shift. The deeper they went, the more spirits gathered around them. Silver and pale-blue wisps swirled through the mist, appearing in greater numbers with every passing mile.

Some drifted close to Vivianne, brushing against her like affectionate children seeking her attention. Though Roxanne couldn’t hear their voices, they giggled and whispered, their joy radiating like a warm current in the freezing air.

Others kept their distance, hovering warily as their glowing eyes fixed on Roxanne. Some of the bolder spirits stared at her outright, their ethereal forms trembling with disbelief. A demon, they seemed to say, isn’t meant to be anywhere near their kind, much less soul-bound to a spiritualist.

Roxanne only smirked at their silent judgment. Let them stare. With a slow, deliberate motion, she tilted her head and allowed a faint glow of her demonic aura to seep through, crimson threads weaving through the silver mist. The spirits recoiled at first, but Vivianne’s steady, content breathing reassured them.

"Don’t worry," Roxanne said, her voice low and lazy, her breath fogging in the icy air. "I’m not here to harm any of you—as long as nothing in this mountain dares to make my wife afraid." Her crimson eyes flashed, and the spirits blinked, utterly baffled by her blunt declaration.

Roxanne laughed softly, amused by their reactions. "Yeah, you heard me right." She leaned forward slightly, tightening her hold on Vivianne with a possessive gesture. "She’s my wife. What about it?" Her grin turned sharp, playful, and even a little dangerous.

The spirits didn’t know how to respond. Some swirled nervously in place, others simply froze, flickering like candle flames in the wind. Their silence only seemed to entertain Roxanne more as she guided the horse forward, her knights following behind in quiet reverence.

"See? No monsters. No fear." She gestured casually to the path ahead, her tone almost teasing. Then, with a thumb pointed to her own chest, she added with a smirk, "And no angry demon either, unless someone upsets her wife."

The spirits exchanged glances, clearly uncertain. They still frowned, reluctant to accept a demon’s presence among them, but when they looked at Vivianne, curled up in Roxanne’s arms, her face soft with peaceful sleep, they hesitated.

At last, they seemed to reluctantly agree, their silver forms dimming slightly in acknowledgment before returning to their playful dance around Vivianne. Creating a protective barrier against them in silver thread.

Roxanne chuckled, victorious. "That’s what I thought," she murmured, pressing a light kiss to Vivianne’s hair as the warhorse carried them deeper into the mountain pass.

The Dreadfang Mountains might have been a nightmare to anyone else, but to Vivianne, they’re a sanctuary. And to Roxanne, they’re nothing more than a shortcut, a dangerous, beautiful, spirit-filled shortcut that would cut their month-long journey to the capital by weeks.

With her knights behind her and the spirits swirling like a protective veil around them, Roxanne rode on, a predator among ghosts, with the most precious treasure in the world sleeping soundly in her arms.