Chapter 126: Meeting Snow Crystals

I'm more than a bit cautious to delve into the Astral Planes while in motion. I also know I should trust Anselm and his word; he said he'll be back, so he will. He's not the type to go back on his word.

I shouldn't worry. I shouldn't be in a hurry. I shouldn't be too concerned.

But I am.

He's come in contact with a Goddess. Not some knock-off deity like Lotar, no, a genuine Goddess. One even Lotar is cautious of.

If Lotar has a reason to be cautious of Frozia, then I obviously do too. I'm not sure what the giant snowflake of a Goddess will do to Anselm but at the same time I can't be sure of anything she wouldn't do.

Most concerning was his look, the way he was dress. All white, and frighteningly with a face made out of light.

If that isn't a red fucking flag, I don't know what is.

In the first place, we've tried taking off his armour; never worked. We've tried putting normal clothes over him but, they always slipped off when he flew, not to talk about constraining him.

In the end we just accepted his armour as a part of him, he died in it after all.

But now he's cladded in all white, cumbersome armour nowhere to be seen and talking to a giant snowflake all while having a face made of light.

Thinking about it that way I begin to doubt myself. Surely that couldn't have been Anselm? 

If he hadn't spoken, I'm fairly certain I would have thought him as someone else entirely. Something else.

But he did, he promised to meet me on the other side, here, in the physical world but I've yet to feel even a bit of his presence. I've even been reduced to looking through the lenses of my dead and forgotten spell Sense Death.

But to no avail. Anselm is nowhere near me, so I really don't have much a choice left.

Let's hope this doesn't blow up in my face, "Astral Projection."

The expulsion of my soul from a moving body is a rougher experience than from a simply stationary one. It's similar to jumping off of a moving vehicle and rolling like a rag doll on the harsh concrete awaiting you.

Except…with your soul.

Coupled with the natural and expected disorientation of the Astral, I'm knocked down with a bad case of vertigo. 

Can I puke as a soul?

I'm not sure I want to find out.

For a good moment it's a battle to set myself upright, and land in the right direction as well as stop myself from falling back into my rapidly fleeing body.

It's tough, but I'm reassured by the blue tether's presence.

Eventually, I get it right and I've got head, shoulder, knees and toes above the fog. It's my second time…flying, floating? So, I'm a bit wobbling.

But that's fine. I don't need to be completely steady for this, just above the swallowing fog and high enough for a good view of the place so I search for the door that I met before.

Unsurprisingly, the door is gone. I mean, it did sink into the fog right after throwing me out, rather violently I might add.

But still, I hold out some hope to find the snow white, freezing cold door once more. Or at least, a door that holds some kind of familiarity to it, something that could lead me to Anselm.

But skimming around, searching the countless number of doors to a seemingly endless number of realms, I start to feel that hope being extinguished.

Perhaps I should really wait?

But for how long?

I shake my head at myself. Look at me being so clingy, it's only been a day.

That's right, it's been just a day compared to the week Anselm must have endured without any sign of me recovering any of my sensibilities, I suppose this is how he felt. 

Likely a lot more desperate and hopeless because he couldn't do a thing as a soul without a physical body to move through.

Yeah. Likely a lot more dejected than I am right now. And maybe that's why Frozia was quick to take advantage of him…

What could the Goddess want with him?

Not knowing makes my stomach churn.

With a sigh I let go of the spell and promptly begin to feel myself fall through the Astral, into the thick swallowing fog as my body pulls on the tether connecting my soul to it.

It doesn't take long before I'm slammed back into my body and awaken with a gasp.

"Are you okay back there, Mister Ash?" The driver of the carriage calls, concerned at the sound of my sudden, trashy awakening.

I chug down a tin of water before answering, travelling the Astral always seems to drain me of all moisture. The longer I spend the more dehydrated I become.

"I'm fine, just fine. Keep moving."

"Alright, let me know if you need anything." The man speaks with an accent, one I notice Leon and Matthias slightly have in their intonations.

It's likely the indigenous people of Frozia have the same thick accent the driver does, one that strangely puts loud emphasis on the last syllable of every word.

I look out the back as I reach for another tin. There are four other wagons and carriages following closely behind us. All of them holding the weapons I promised the Elves.

I wonder how Kaylin and Aren are doing. Chances are not well; I've got to get back fast…if only I could teleport.

Well, to some extent, I can now. I have unlocked a new spell, one of many I haven't had the chance to try out as well as several other interesting rituals I'm eager to dip a toe in.

Switching places with undead during battle? Creating stronger undead, one that can use a weapon? Sign me up.

Unfortunately, all the fun and magic have to be put on the back burner for now, as well as my worrying thoughts for Kaylin and Aren. 

Now I need to give my full attention to Anselm. I certainly can't be left to sit still and wait for him to appear from…where ever.

If he still had a bit of my mana with him, I could simply pull him towards me like a dog on a leash, but whatever mana he had has long died out. 

Astral Projecting hasn't warranted me any results either, so now it's time for my last card.

Prayers.

I've got unfinished business with the Wolf anyway so might as well.

"Lotar, Great Spirit Wolf become Deity, I call on you, bring me to your presence and come to my aid."

It's a copy and paste of the prayer I spoke before but I don't care, the beast ought to be grateful to get any from me. I'm only doing this because this is the only way we can communicate anyway.

"Lotar, Great Spirit Wolf become Deity, I call on you, bring me to your presence and come to my aid." I repeat after a beat of not being transported to his realm.

Nothing happens.

Do I need to change it?

"Lotar, Great Spirit Wolf become Dei-"

"Are you alright back there, Mister Ash?" 

Ugh. The driver again. "I'm just fine, thank you." I say as politely as I can.

He falls silent and the carriage keeps on circling along. Shaking my head, I prepare to modify the prayer.

"Lo-"

"I'm asking," Ugh, again? "Because you seem to be praying to the wrong deity."

Wait, that's an…odd thing to say.

"Why do you say that?" I mutter quietly preparing my mana to take the form of a Death Grip.

"Ah, well, there aren't any wolves around right now." He speaks nonchalantly through the thin flap of cloth that divides the head of the carriage from the back, "On the other hand…heh."

My eyes widen as I notice yet another odd thing. His accent is gone.

"On the other hand?" I urge, changing it up, a Soul Drain would be more appropriate.

"On the other hand…there's so much more snow."

Before I can blink the world goes white as snow floods in from the front.

"Fuck!"

Before my eyes the mana I've been pooling in my hand is blown out, completely extinguished, and worse, I can't summon anymore.

Before I know it, before I can do anything about it, I'm soon drowning under a pile of snow and frost. It doesn't even feel like there was ever a carriage.

And then, just as suddenly, I feel my body enter a free fall. I'd let out a scream but that'd just full my mouth with snow.

With a heavy, painful thud I land onto somehow more snow.

Aren't I in snow right now?

No, there's an obvious difference. There's space to move, I can stand up.

And so I do. It feels entirely odd. I still feel the pressure, the suffocation of being buried deep under.

My eyes peer open and like before, like back in the Astral, I'm in a plain of white. This is where I found Anselm.

Frantically I begin a search, swerving, spinning and even digging.

Where is he!

"He certainly isn't here."

Instinctively, my head whips to the direction the voice came from. Waiting for me is a giant snowflake.

Frozia.

"It is I." The snowflake pronounces gloriously and with pride, then, it says, "You can speak, you can't die here anyway, and I'd rather not read your thoughts.

You can read my thoughts? Oh.

"You can read my thoughts?"

I get the impression the snowflake is smiling, "I can also tell you where your friend is."