I woke while it was still dark, the pub's interior illuminated only by the dying embers of last night's fire. The air was frigid—my breath formed clouds with each exhale. I'd left a window cracked open for Minnow as promised, and a small draft whistled through the gap, carrying a few snowflakes that danced in the dim light.

  Stormy was curled into a tight ball on my domain-soil pile, her black fur barely visible in the pre-dawn darkness. As I stirred, she opened one milky eye, regarding me with what I'd come to interpret as sleepy indignation at being disturbed.

  "Sorry," I whispered. "Early start today."

  The kitten yawned, displaying needle-sharp teeth before stretching languidly, her claws kneading the soil. She seemed ready to accompany me on my hunt.

  "Not today," I told her, scratching behind her ears. "You'd be visible to the elks as a zapping target, and I need every advantage I can get.”

  “Mrrr,” she replied. She tilted her head, as if considering my words, then huffed and curled back into her ball.

  I dressed quickly, pulling on extra layers of wool and white-fur to blend in better with the snowy landscape. I'd prepared thoroughly the night before, picking out serviceable iron-tipped arrows to exploit the crystal elks' weakness. A dozen arrows now filled the quiver strapped to my side.

  The arbalest I'd taken from the village armory had been tensioned and oiled. It wasn't elegant, but it looked powerful enough to drive an iron bolt through a thick hide. Most importantly, I still had a substantial amount of my domain soil on the sled I'd used to hunt the Sirin.

  I strapped on the snowshoes.

  A soft tapping at the window announced my guide's arrival. I opened it wider, and Minnow slipped inside, a shadow among shadows. In the pre-dawn darkness, the little nav was more ethereal than solid, its edges blurring into the gloom.

  "Harbor-giver," it greeted me, voice barely audible above the whisper of the wind. "You are prepared for the hunt?"

  "As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, checking my gear one final time. "Lead on, little ghost."

  “I cannot hear you for in the night I am more spirit than flesh,” Minnow nodded, its black eyes glinting with reflected firelight. "But I presume that you are here and ready since the window opened for me. The crystal elks gather at the pond as the sky begins to pale. We must hurry to catch them unaware. Follow me."

  With a final glance at Stormy, who had already fallen back asleep, I grasped the rope harness of my domain-laden sled and followed Minnow out into the darkness. The snowshoes made a soft crunching sound with each step as we traversed the ruined village, past collapsed houses and burned-out shells of buildings, remnants of lives interrupted by the dragon's wrath. The sled glided smoothly behind me, its runners making neat parallel tracks in the fresh snow.

  The night was clear and bitterly cold, the stars overhead sharp points of light in the black vault of the sky. As we left the shelter of the village, the wind picked up, cutting through my layers of clothing with icy precision. I pulled my fur hood tighter, grateful for the well-insulated clothing I'd salvaged.

  Minnow moved with silent grace, flitting from shadow to shadow like a piece of night given animation. It seemed barely affected by the cold, moving just ahead of me, occasionally pausing against white snow to ensure I followed.

  "How much farther?" I asked after perhaps half an hour of pulling my sled through the snow as the first rays of sun started to break across the horizon. The snowshoes made the walking easier, but hauling my domain behind me was still taxing.

  "Not far," Minnow replied, its voice carried back to me on the wind. "The frozen pond lies just beyond that ridge."

  It pointed toward a low rise ahead, silhouetted against the gradually lightening eastern sky. The first hint of dawn was appearing—not yet light, but a lessening of the darkness, a promise of the sun to come.

  "When we reach the ridge," Minnow continued, "we must move with great caution. The elks have keen hearing and will flee at the slightest unusual sound."

  "What's the plan?" I whispered as we neared the ridge. "Just shoot them from a distance?"

  Minnow's form rippled in what might have been a shrug. "The hunter must decide the method of the hunt. But I advise patience. The elks are wary creatures, always alert for danger. They take turns drinking while others stand guard."

  We approached the ridge, and I secured my sled in a small copse of trees. I didn't want to risk the elks spotting it, and I needed to be more mobile for what came next. I removed my snowshoes, leaving them beside the sled, then dropped to my knees, crawling the final few meters to peer over the ridge top. Below us, a small valley opened up, at its center a frozen pond gleaming faintly in the pre-dawn light. A thin plume of steam rose from one corner of the pond—presumably the spring Minnow had mentioned, geothermal spring warmth preventing complete freezing.

  And there, moving gracefully through the snow-covered meadow surrounding the pond, were the crystal elks. Even in the dim light, they were magnificent creatures. Larger than Earth deer, with powerful bodies covered in thick, silver-white fur that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. Their antlers were the most striking feature—elaborate racks that appeared to be carved from blue crystal, catching what little light there was and refracting it in mesmerizing patterns.

  I counted six of them—two magnificent bulls with massive crystal antlers, three females with smaller but still impressive racks, and what appeared to be a half-grown youngster, its antlers just beginning to form.

  "Pretty," I breathed, momentarily forgetting my purpose in coming here.

  "Yes," Minnow agreed, its voice tinged with something like reverence. "They are Perun-blessed beasts, carriers of his lightning. Beautiful and deadly."

  The elks moved with grace toward the steaming corner of the pond. One of the bulls took up position on a small rise, head raised, nostrils flaring as it scented the air. Its crystal antlers pulsed faintly, emitting a soft blue glow that intensified and faded in a rhythm reminiscent of breathing.

  "The sentinel," Minnow whispered. "It watches while the others drink. When all have had their fill, they will switch places."

  I observed the elks' behavior, formulating a plan. The sentinel bull was clearly the most dangerous—alert and positioned to have a clear view of its surroundings. The others, focused on drinking, might be more vulnerable, but they were also closer together. If I missed or merely wounded one, the entire herd would be alerted.

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  "I need to get closer," I decided. "And I need to separate one from the group."

  Minnow's black eyes regarded me solemnly. "There is a depression in the ground to our right—an old streambed, now dry. It winds down toward the pond. You could use it for cover."

  I nodded, studying the terrain. The streambed was barely visible, a subtle dip in the snow-covered ground, but it would provide some concealment as I approached.

  "What about distracting them?" I asked. "Could you draw their attention while I move in?"

  Minnow hesitated. "I could, but it would put me at great risk. The crystal elks can sense the nightborn, even when we move through shadow. Their antlers disrupt our passage between worlds and could erase me from existence in a single strike."

  I hadn't considered that. "Very well, I won't risk you. I'll manage the approach on my own."

  With agonizing slowness, I backed away from the ridge, then crawled to the streambed Minnow had indicated. Once there, I lowered myself into the shallow depression, lying flat on my stomach in the snow.

  "I'll wait here," Minnow said. "The lightening sky weakens me. I cannot help with the hunt itself, but I will watch for other dangers and can warn you if another beast shows up."

  I nodded my thanks, then began the painstaking process of inching my way toward the pond. The streambed provided minimal cover—barely deeper than my body's thickness, the top of my backpack almost exposed—but it was better than nothing.

  The cold seeped through my clothes as I crawled, snow working its way into my collar and sleeves. My fingers grew numb despite the fur-lined gloves, and my face stung from contact with the frozen ground. But I persisted, focusing on each movement, making it as fluid and silent as possible. Thankfully, my backpack domain-earth kept me somewhat warm.

  After what felt like an eternity but was probably only fifteen minutes, I'd covered about half the distance to the pond. I was now close enough to hear the soft sounds of the elks drinking—the gentle lapping of their tongues against the water, the occasional snort or stamp of a hoof and a hum of what sounded like electric current.

  The sentinel bull remained vigilant, its massive head sweeping back and forth as it surveyed the surroundings. Its antlers glowed brighter now, pulsing with energy that made the hairs on my arms stand up beneath my layers of clothing. I could feel a subtle electric charge in the air, like the moment before a lightning strike.

  I wound the two arbalests with painfully slow movements, ensuring no sudden motion would catch the sentinel's eye. Without the full connection to my domain sled, I could feel the familiar creep of fatigue and hunger dancing at the edges of my mind, but I pushed the sensations aside.

  Now I faced a crucial decision—which elk to target? The sentinel bull would be the most dangerous if alerted but was also isolated from the others. If I could bring it down with a single shot, I might have a chance to retreat before the rest of the herd reacted.

  On the other hand, the younger elk would be more vulnerable, its developing antlers less capable of channeling lethal lightning. But it stood surrounded by the others, making a clean shot more difficult.

  I decided on the sentinel. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I raised the arbalest, aligning the crude sight with the elk's chest, just behind its foreleg where I hoped its heart would be. The animal was perhaps thirty meters away now—within range, but far enough that accuracy would be challenging.

  Just as I prepared to squeeze the trigger, the elk raised its head sharply, nostrils flaring. It had caught my scent. The crystalline antlers flared with sudden, intense blue light, and the beast turned its head directly toward my hiding place.

  There was no time for perfect aim now. I squeezed the trigger, feeling the arbalest's powerful spring release. The bolt flew true, striking the elk in its chest with a solid thunk that carried clearly in the still morning air.

  The effect was immediate and dramatic. The elk reared back, its front legs pawing at the air as a strangled bellow escaped its throat. The blue glow of its antlers intensified to blinding brightness, then flickered erratically, like a malfunctioning light bulb.

  The iron was working, disrupting the creature's magical energy just as Minnow had said it would. But the elk wasn't dead—far from it. It staggered sideways, shaking its massive head as if trying to clear it, then focused on me again with frightening intensity.

  The rest of the herd reacted instantly to their sentinel's distress. The other bull's antlers flared to life, and the females herded the youngster away from the pond. The elks with the exception of the iron-struck bull bounded toward the cover of the distant treeline with surprising speed.

  The wounded sentinel lowered its head, pointing those disrupted but still dangerous antlers directly at me. Sparks of blue electricity arced between the crystal tines, gathering for a strike.

  It would take too long to reload the first arbalest. I grabbed the second arbalest out just as the elk charged. Its hooves thundered against the frozen ground, closing the distance between us with terrifying speed.

  I fired again, the bolt striking the charging beast in the throat.

  A flash of blinding lightning struck from its antlers, igniting a tree beside me.

  The elk stumbled, its front legs buckling, but momentum carried its massive body forward. I rolled desperately to the side as nearly 300 kilograms of dying elk crashed into the space where I'd just been.

  The impact shook the ground, sending snow flying in all directions. The elk thrashed once, twice, then went still, its antlers giving one final, brilliant pulse before fading to a dull, lifeless white-blue.

  I lay in the snow, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps. The hunt had succeeded, but far more messily than I'd planned. If the elk's charge had connected, I'd have been crushed regardless of magical protection.

  "Warlock! Are you unharmed?" Minnow's voice called from somewhere behind me.

  I pushed myself up on shaking arms, taking stock of my condition. Nothing seemed broken, though every muscle protested the sudden exertion and cold.

  "I'm alive," I called back, my voice unsteady. "Got one."

  Minnow appeared at the ridge, its diminutive form more visible in the growing light. It didn't approach further—the open ground around the fallen elk offered no shadows for a nav to travel through.

  I staggered to my feet, brushing snow from my clothes as I approached my kill. The crystal elk was even more impressive up close—its coat a silvery white that seemed to contain subtle fractal dark silver rune-like patterns woven into the fur itself.

  "Now comes the hard part," I muttered to myself, looking at the massive beast. Trying to butcher it here in the open would take far too long and leave me exposed to any predators or Jotuns that might be drawn to the blood and commotion.

  I returned to where Minnow waited and quickly trudged back to collect my domain sled. Pulling it down the slope was a tad tricky—I had to dig my heels in to prevent it from careening forward—but I managed to bring it close to the fallen elk.

  I worked quickly, fashioning a crude harness from the rope I'd brought. After several minutes of awkward maneuvering and straining against the elk's considerable weight, sliding the body via wooden ramparts, I managed to get most of its body onto the sled atop of my magic earth pile covered by a fur tarp so it would not escape.

  The magnificent creature barely fit, its legs, antlers and head hanging over the edges. I secured it with more rope, tying it down as best I could. The sled groaned under the weight, but its runners thankfully still slid across the snow when I pulled with all my strength.

  "This will have to do," I panted, testing the bindings one last time.

  With a final heave, I began the laborious task of pulling my greatly overburdened sled back toward the ridge where Minnow waited. It took me a while as I had to avoid the hill. The little nav wasn’t looking good, visibly weakened by the growing daylight cutting through the gray clouds overhead.

  "Let's get you back to the shadows," I said.

  “Yes. Take me… to your domain. It will help me… recover,” Minnow let out, its movements sluggish. I picked it up and placed it beside the elk onto the pile of magic earth. The little undead was very light and rapidly buried itself into the leather tarp in the shadow of the elk’s body.

  We made our way back toward Svalbard more slowly than our outward journey. Pulling the sled with both my domain soil and an entire crystal elk was backbreaking work, even with the snowshoes distributing my weight across the snow. Every step was a battle against the combined weight, but the proximity to my domain kept the worst of the exhaustion at bay. Without its witchy magic refuelling my stamina, I would have probably given up long ago and would have to carve the elk up right then and there.

  I continued struggling with every step to pull my heavily laden sled through the village ruins. My thoughts turned to the next phase of my plan as I hauled my prize homeward. The hunt had been successful. Stormy greeted me at the door with a loud meow.

  "Phew… Mission accomplished," I told her, maneuvering just the front of the sled through the doorway while leaving the elk outside for the moment. I shed my outer layers, catching my breath. "Got exactly what we needed. And then some."

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