The Foxfire Saga

Skadi had thought stepping inside the Hold would ease something in her chest. That seeing walls, lights, people trying to stitch their lives back together might settle the storm clawing through her veins. It didn't.

The air was close here, stale with recycled breath and the faint burn of stressed filtration. Every step only reminded her how thin the line was between this fragile shell of survival and the cold void outside.

They hadn't made it far into the Hold when a sharper order cut through the low murmur of the corridor.

"Stop right there."

Fenrik stiffened beside her. Lifting her head, Skadi's eyes narrowed as she tracked the voice.

A knot of armored figures blocked the crossway ahead. Haven security by the crisp lines of their suits, the polished corporate insignia that still gleamed even in this half-starved place. And at their center stood Marcus Vehrin, dressed in slate gray with a high collar that made him look faintly reptilian.

He gave them a tight smile. "Fenrik Eisfall. Still stirring up trouble in my districts, I see." His eyes cut to Skadi. "And you brought the fox's pet monster."

Skadi's spine straightened. The way he said it, so casual, so practiced, clawed at something raw inside her. That wasn't just an offhand guess. It sounded like he'd been briefed. Like he'd seen reports.

Her mind stuttered through ugly possibilities. She'd assumed they had just covered up the mess in the water supply pipes. A threat they didn't understand, and couldn't let be public. But how much did Haven actually know? How far had they let Karn go. Or worse, helped him?

The air around her shivered faintly, little curls of frost skating over the floor.

Vehrin only lifted his wrist, thumb brushing a control on the bulky device strapped there. It pulsed once, harsh and cold, and Skadi felt her power clamp inward, like hands on her throat, pressing until her breath stuttered. The frost winked out.

Suppressor tech. Haven's clumsy answer to something they never fully understood.

Fenrik's jaw worked. "That's a dangerous game you're playing, Vehrin. You know exactly who pushed Zephara to this point. Haven stripped this moon dry, set your quotas so high we bled trying to meet them. And when it all came down, it was your people that cracked under the weight."

Vehrin's smile never wavered. "Your defiance would be charming if it weren't so tedious. Unfortunately for you, my shareholders prefer a cleaner story. The kitsune destroyed our orbital infrastructure, cut us off from our own supply lines. An act of terror by any metric. And who was seen at her side, time and again?"

His gaze settled on Skadi, cool and assessing. "It's not difficult to draw lines, Fenrik. You've always been a rabble-rouser. Now you're harboring an accomplice to sabotage on a planetary scale."

Skadi's hands curled into fists. Her chest burned, power snarling beneath her skin before the suppressor crushed it flat. A thin, glacial fury wound through her. For all she'd lost, and for how Akiko's chaos leeched poison into everything it touched.

She wanted to spit ice in Vehrin's face, see that smug composure break. Instead she bit down hard, tasted copper.

Fenrik leaned in, voice low and tight. "Not here. We have other battles to pick—"

But before the words could settle, Vehrin's hand twitched toward his wrist, fingers brushing over the suppressor controls. A signal. The guards tensed, shifting grips on their weapons, a half-circle tightening with practiced precision.

Skadi's breath came sharp and shallow. Even with her magic forced inward, she could still feel it, straining against invisible walls, desperate to lash out. It left her teeth on edge.

Then, from somewhere off to the right, a barked order, followed by the deep, tearing roar of a rotary gun spinning up. A spray of rounds hammered into one of Vehrin's men, impacts sparking off his armored vest until the plating buckled and he dropped, twitching, to the floor.

Chaos exploded. Shouts, weapons jerking up, muzzle flashes blooming in staccato.

Skadi barely had time to register the shapes moving through the haze, figures in patched suits, their faces hidden behind their helmets. Whoever they were, they cut through Vehrin's cluster with practiced violence.

A woman at the forefront gave clipped orders, rifle steady as she drove the assault. Another hauled a satchel from his belt, planting a shaped charge against the bulkhead with casual efficiency.

Vehrin's voice snapped orders that went nowhere, his neat perimeter already dissolving under the onslaught.

Fenrik seized her arm, dragging her back behind a corroded support strut as fragments rattled past. Skadi's pulse thundered, her aura clawing for release, smashing futilely against the suppressor's hold.

But then Vehrin's hand snapped to the device at his wrist, twisting the dial back.

The air shivered. Skadi felt the pressure on her chest collapse, like a vice finally unclamping. Her magic roared up to meet her, flooding her limbs, clawing through her veins.

But it wasn't just her power that surged. Light fractured across the corridor. Hexagonal plates of a Haven shield snapped into place, crackling blue, catching the next volley from the resistance like rain on steel. Vehrin's men recovered in brutal lockstep, magitech rifles humming as they poured disciplined bursts downrange.

A figure dove low, sliding across the frosted deck. Her armor was piecemeal, breath hissed through a battered rebreather, but her eyes burned sharp and calculating. She hit the support strut hard, shoulder knocking into it as she pulled in tight beside Skadi and Fenrik.

Her rifle came up, and in the same breath, she twisted, leaning just enough to snap off two quick shots that sent a Haven trooper stumbling back behind the glow of his shield.

"You're late, Nika," Fenrik growled, breathless with adrenaline.

"Blame your timing," she snapped back, already tracking for another angle. "We're pulling out. The team's planted charges on the power conduits. This whole section's gonna surge and blow. Thirty seconds, tops."

Skadi's pulse beat hard at her temples. Around them, frost blossomed outward in intricate filigree, creeping toward Vehrin's regrouping line. Her hands clenched, fingers digging into her palms.

Mine again.

She let the cold loose. It surged across the floor in living tendrils, wrapping Haven boots, climbing armor plates. One of the guards screamed, trying to wrench free as ice cracked up over his thigh.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Go!" Nika shoved Fenrik forward, her own voice nearly lost under the rising whine of overloaded capacitors.

They ran, Skadi's breath steaming in great ragged bursts, ice stretching behind her like a living snare, cutting off pursuit with a forest of glittering spikes.

Somewhere behind them, the overloaded conduits screamed a high, metallic note. A heartbeat later, a bloom of raw force ripped through the corridor. The shockwave chased them in a press of heat and shattered light, throwing Skadi off-balance. Fenrik caught her by the shoulder, dragged her stumbling forward.

They didn't look back. The roaring collapse behind them was enough.

Ahead, the corridor bent into shadow, a narrow, uncertain path. But it was away from Haven's reach. Away from Vehrin's cold, knowing smile. For now, that would have to be enough.

They ducked down another service corridor, boots clanging on the grated deck. Frost coiled after Skadi's steps in delicate, creeping veins that the cheap heat-strips couldn't quite keep at bay. Her breath fanned out white in front of her face. And for the first time, she felt her magic almost… giddy. Unrestrained. Thrumming like it had been waiting for that suppressor field to vanish so it could stretch itself in all directions.

It earned her side-eyes from the two strangers waiting at the next junction. A burly man with dark hair shot through with grey, a massive gatling gun slung over one shoulder. And beside him, a wiry tech with a bandolier of stubby canisters strapped across his chest.

Fenrik lifted a hand, breath still coming hard. "Harvin. Tovan. This is my sister, Skadi."

"Yeah, we guessed," the older man, Harvin, grunted. His eyes didn't quite meet hers, flicking instead to the faint rime gathering on the walls around them. "Gonna guess she's the reason your footprints are freezing solid."

Tovan shifted uncomfortably, one hand brushing his belt like he was reassuring himself he still had a fallback. "Ain't… exactly what we're used to."

Nika cut a glance at both of them, her face impassive but voice edged with a private calculation. "She's also why Vehrin's team is probably still digging themselves out of a forest of ice. I'll take that trade."

Skadi's jaw tightened, her breath clouding out in another sharp exhale. Easy to be reduced to an asset. Easier, maybe, than to be pitied.

But Nika's eyes fixed on her, level and unflinching. "That said, we can't risk a repeat inside the our territory. You're going to need to take some time. Work on your control. We'll keep you separate from the main cells for now."

"Separate," Skadi echoed, her voice low, almost lost in the whistle of an overhead vent. The cold around her seemed to flinch, then gather close again. "Fine."

Harvin shifted his gatling gun again, clearly less tense for having the rules laid down, while Tovan blew out a slow breath. Fenrik's hand brushed her elbow. It wasn't quite a comforting touch, more a quiet point of contact, reminding her he was still there.

Skadi didn't pull away, but ice threaded through her veins all the same. His presence was a shadow she hadn't chosen, not the reassurance he intended.

Nika just gave a short nod. "Good. Let's move. Haven's gonna regroup faster than we like, and I'd rather be gone before they figure out just how many bodies they're missing."

They wound deeper through the Hold's back passages, past scavenged panels barely welded over burst conduits and quick-patch generators that rattled with every power surge. The corridors were narrow enough that Skadi's shoulder sometimes brushed old railings, the metal creaking and frosting faintly in her wake.

Fenrik walked ahead, close to Nika, exchanging clipped updates. Who was still loyal, who was wavering, what stockpiles looked like. Every so often, someone recognized Fenrik with a quick nod or a clasp on the shoulder. He answered with quiet words and that measured, calm smile that had always made people trust him.

Skadi trailed behind, silent, her thoughts twisting sharp around the edges. They didn't know. Not the ones nodding to him, not the ones who welcomed him back with tired relief. The truth hadn't reached them, about what he'd done, who he'd worked with. About Karn.

She hadn't told them, not yet.

Fenrik had always been the friendly one, the neighbor's son who helped fix a broken lift motor, who shared a drink and a laugh. Meanwhile, she'd stood watch on the stoop with her mother, half-waiting for the day the world outside would remember it had sharper teeth.

Their mother had turned Fenrik's old room into storage after he left, crates stacked high with spare pipe and coiled cabling. A sore point then. A hollow one now, with no mother left to defend that space, no home at all. And Fenrik? He still had people. Still had a room here, tucked off a warren of side halls, his name half-scratched into the doorframe.

Skadi wondered if he'd ever thought about what it cost her.

Nika paused at another intersection, rapping on a bulkhead. "This is where we split. Fenrik, your usual bunk. I'll get you a full sitrep once Harvin finishes compiling it."

Fenrik's eyes cut to Skadi, something almost apologetic flickering there. But it didn't last. He squeezed her shoulder again, then turned down the side hall, boots fading into the murmur of other voices.

Skadi felt her frost surge higher, little tendrils lacing out across the floor before she reined it back with a sharp inhale. Her fingers flexed against her palm. Alone. Again.

Nika didn't miss it. She tipped her head, assessing. "I'm not putting you in the common bunks. The kids there are twitchy enough. You'd freeze half of them out just trying to breathe easy."

Skadi's lip curled, breath escaping in a low, humorless huff. "So where does that leave me? Chained up somewhere dark until you're sure I won't break your floor?"

"Hardly." Nika's tone was practical, almost dry. "We've got a workshop running our comms and network operations. Servers like cold. So does Tala, she's our best systems rat. Her gear will appreciate you. She might even tolerate you if you don't ice over her workbenches."

That earned a faint flicker of Skadi's eyebrows. It wasn't quite amusement, not quite disdain, just tired. "Fine."

"Good." Nika stepped aside, gesturing her forward. "Let's get you settled."

She keyed the hatch with a terse flick of her wrist. The panel gave a reluctant chirp, then rolled aside with a sigh of depressurized air, spilling them into a wash of faint blue light and a hum of low power.

Inside was a den that smelled of ozone and warm metal, the tang of recycled coolant mingling with something sharper, like scorched insulation. Racks of servers lined the walls, lights blinking in slow, measured pulses that seemed almost like breath. Bundles of cables snaked overhead and underfoot in tangled veins. Here and there, handwritten tags fluttered from wires, annotated in tight, precise script.

It was aggressively cold, not just faulty heating elements cold, the air tuned for heat-hungry machinery that would've faltered under the burden of human comfort. Frost crawled along some of the nearest conduits, tracing delicate patterns that Skadi's own aura seemed to answer with a quiet resonance.

And at the far end of the room, half-swiveled in a battered chair, sat Tala.

She was slight, though not delicate, exactly, but built lean and sharp, with hair cropped to a dark, no-nonsense sweep. A heavy augmented headset rested on her temples, one eye hidden behind a shifting lens that flickered with code readouts. The other pinned them with a hawkish dark stare, narrowed in focus but not surprise.

Her hand rested on the edge of a low desk cluttered with jury-rigged comm units, portable nodes, and a trio of small holo-displays, one of which currently showed a cluster of blinking glyphs overlaying a schematic that could've been Isvann's local network. As they stepped in, Tala's thumb twitched, cycling the view to a bland pulse monitor showing network saturation levels holding steady.

Nika exhaled. "Tala, this is Skadi. She's… new blood. You'll be sharing your space."

Tala leaned back, one leg crossing over the other with languid, almost theatrical ease, headset lens retracting so both eyes were visible now, dark and assessing.

"Oh," she said lightly, lips curling. "Lucky me."

Nika gave a brisk nod to Tala. "She's yours for the time being. Keep her from freezing the main halls solid, will you?"

Tala's lips twitched, amused but faintly put upon. "I'll try. No promises."

Then Nika was gone, hatch sliding closed with a quiet hiss. The space seemed to tighten in her absence, all quiet humming machines and the faint, sterile tang of ozone.

Tala leaned back against her workbench, crossing her arms. Her gaze drifted once more over Skadi, the faintest smile playing at the corner of her mouth, sharp and speculative. "Didn't expect to be taking in strays today. But I suppose there's room."

She jerked her chin toward a narrow cot wedged between two towering server racks. It was unmade, thin blankets tumbled where she'd last left them. "That's mine. Off-limits." Her smile curved wider, almost taunting. "Unless you were planning on making a move. But something tells me that's not your angle."

Skadi's jaw tightened. "It isn't."

"Mm. Didn't think so." Tala pushed off the workbench, fluid and careless, and padded past Skadi to a small side cabinet. She retrieved a battered thermos, poured herself something steaming. "You'll find extra blankets in the crate by the cot. That's the best you're getting. Floor's yours. Don't touch my tools, don't even look at my servers wrong, and we'll get along fine."

She raised the mug in a small, mocking toast before taking a sip, then settled back into her chair, already half-turned to her displays. "Welcome to your new home, Snowdrift."