Chapter Twelve: Shadows in the Frost

The mist deepened as they pressed on. It swirled like breath made visible—slow, cold, and alive. Trees rose like frozen statues around them, their limbs twisted and skeletal, groaning softly beneath the weight of creeping frost. The ground changed too, growing brittle underfoot. The soft savanna earth had long given way to something pale and hard, the color of old bones. Vitani led in silence, her amber eyes locked on the figure ahead.Jitu moved like a phantom—massive, frost-rimmed, and quiet. Each step he took seemed to part the mist, cutting a clean path through the haze. His mane rippled in the thin, icy wind, but he never once looked back. The Lion Guard followed with practiced discipline, but tension wound through them like a pulled bowstring. Imara scanned the trees with narrowed eyes. Shabaha kept low, her muscles taut and ready. Tazama moved through the canopy, every leap calculated and silent. Kasi padded at the rear, her gaze flicking in every direction. They were deep in the northern forest now. And something was wrong.Vitani felt it first.A pressure in her chest. Not from fear—but from instinct. A tightness in the air. A hush that went beyond silence.She opened her mouth. “Jitu… what are you—?” But Jitu stopped. Suddenly. Completely. His eyes—those cold, unblinking orbs—locked on something beneath the roots of an ancient, split-bark tree. His body tensed. Not in fear. In readiness. Vitani followed his gaze.Her breath caught. It had once been a deer. Or something like one. Its body was twisted, wrapped in thick, black roots that pulsed faintly—roots that moved. They curled around its legs, its neck, and stabbed through its chest like iron thorns. The creature’s eyes were gone, replaced by hollow sockets that bled slow streams of dark mist. The roots hissed. Not from movement. From… life. Twisted, corrupted life.Kasi stumbled back. “What… what is that?” “It’s dead,” Shabaha whispered. “But it’s… moving. ”Jitu’s gaze hardened. He stepped forward, crushing one of the black tendrils beneath his paw. A sick, whispering sound escaped, and the dark mist recoiled like it had been burned. Then he lifted his claws. With one deliberate, powerful swipe, he sliced through the roots. The reaction was violent. The black vines writhed, flailing in agony—then fell still. One by one, they crumbled, dissolving into glittering dust. Like ash, like frost. The creature collapsed in a lifeless heap, truly dead now. Silence fell again. But it was not peaceful. Tazama was the first to speak. “That wasn’t natural. It… melted. Like snow. ”Jitu backed away slowly, his expression unreadable. From the shadows behind, Rafiki stepped into view. His staff trembled in his grasp, his old eyes wide with something rare in him—fear. “No…” he breathed. “It cannot be…”Vitani turned. “Rafiki, what was that?” The mandrill’s voice was quiet. Heavy. “A shadow of the north. A corruption of the ancient frost. They were once stories… curses… legends of the Wastes. But I never thought…” He trailed off. Jitu turned. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged his paw across the frost-covered ground. Three jagged lines. Twisted like roots. Sharp like claws. Rafiki stared at the symbol, his face pale. “Frostfang,” he whispered. “The curse of Frostfang. But how has it spread this far south?” Jitu’s gaze lifted to the horizon. North. Always north. Vitani stepped toward him. “Are you running from this? Or fighting it?” No answer. But his silence spoke all the same. He turned from the Guard—not with retreat, but with purpose. He looked once more at the remains, then turned to leave. “Jitu, wait—!” Vitani stepped forward, but the mist answered her instead. It thickened. Swirled. Wrapped around him like a shroud. His form blurred, the frost from his mane fading into the cold fog like breath on the wind. “Jitu!” Imara lunged forward—but her paws met only empty air. Gone. Vanished again, like a ghost. Vitani stood frozen, breath steaming in the cold. “Come back!” But the clearing was still. Only the dead tree and the ash-like remains bore witness to what had passed.Kasi whispered, “He… just disappeared.” Tazama darted around, searching the mist. “No, he was right here. He has to be here.” “Enough,” Vitani snapped, though her voice trembled. “He’s gone. Again.” Shabaha growled. “How does he do that? Is he even real?” 

“He’s real,” Rafiki said softly. “But he walks in the shadow of a curse. It clings to him… yet flees from him. He is hunted—and hunter.” Vitani stared at the symbol burned into the frost. Three lines. Sharp. Cruel. Her jaw set. “Why won’t he talk to us? What is he hiding?” Rafiki stepped beside her. His voice was a whisper. “Sometimes, a spirit wrapped in mist is not hiding. Sometimes… it cannot bear to be seen.” Vitani didn’t answer. She stared down at the place where the creature had fallen. The corruption was gone—but the ground felt tainted. The silence was too deep. “Guard,” she said at last, her voice tight. “We’re not done.” They moved on, slowly. But the forest was colder now. And with every step, Vitani felt the weight of icy blue eyes—watching. Somewhere ahead. Always just out of reach.