Prologue

Four soldiers circled a stone while moving their hands up and down in tune with its hypnotic bobbing. Red and white hues emanating from etchings carved into the stone and pouring out of its cracks did their best to illuminate the tent.

Outside, wind whipped and whined as it blanketed the area in buckets of snow. If it weren’t for a faint, pearlescent aura surrounding their tents, the entire camp would’ve long since been frozen and buried meters beneath a blanket of white.

Another soldier, a courier, brushed aside the flap as he entered the tent. A smaller stone was strapped to his heavy fur coat with another, even smaller stone dangling from his waist. He was carrying a large sack as well as a log containing the names of every soldier on their expedition, some of which had already been crossed off.

“Oh. Good. You’re all alive.” The courier said.

The other soldiers continued to stare at the stone centerpiece while the courier removed packaged items labeled "food" from his pack, though they looked more like solid bricks than food.

One of the men around the stone, the one nearest the exit, finally spoke up. “I’m sure some of the nobles funding this expedition would prefer it if we weren’t.” The soldier said, dryly, underneath his breath.

“Those same nobles are the ones who’d want you hung for saying that.” There was a coldness in his voice as though the frost and snow consumed his heart. “Not that any of us cares after having to go through this.” He cast a glance outside, visibly dreading what came next. “Three more tents to go.” The courier checked his log as he turned towards the door.

“Wait. You can rest here a bit, I’m sure the captain wouldn’t mind. He’s trudged through the same snow we have.” Following his words there was a silence, then laughter.

“As if.” The courier was the only one not laughing. “You think he’s gonna come over here to chew you out or dole out punishments. No. He’s just gonna punish me more.” He lifted the tent flap. “Having experienced what he can be like, I fear him more than I fear the cold or the Red Bear. I’m lucky enough he gave me the time to rest every couple of tents.” The courier stormed off, trying to make up for lost time.

The soldier nearest the exit spoke. “If the royal guards are concerned enough to send good soldiers out to brave the northern storms to confirm the Red Bear’s death you’d have to be a fool to think that.”

A malicious smirk formed on the furthest soldier’s mouth. “If we want to talk about the Red Bear, when we passed through Hildale I heard a story.” He paused to gauge the attention of the other soldiers.

“You know rumors aren’t gonna do ya any good right.” The leftmost soldier spoke.

“Sometimes they end up being right though… which means it’d be good to be aware of it regardless and besides, I’m sure there’s no harm in tellin’ us. The Red Bear’s a dead bear if we’ve made it this far North.” The soldier on the right replied while tearing apart the bread-like brick from his rations.

“I’m more interested in the World’s Greatest Saint…” The soldier nearest the exit spoke in an almost childlike pitch as a stalkerishly infatuated grin plastered itself on his face.

He looked around, seeing only faces rife with confusion and pity. “…errr Saint. I mean, uh. Ugh hmm.” He coughed as a foolhardy attempt at hiding his delight. Sweat dripped from his forehead as his brothers in arms continued staring him down. “This ‘Freydis’ person…” He paused again.

His compatriots now looked disappointed, clearly having expected entertainment in the form of god-tier delusional ramblings.

“It’s just… you know… she’s a saint and all so she’s got to be pretty right?” He clasped his hands together. “I’m sure she’s not as terrifying as everyone keeps saying she is, she’s still a saint, and of course doing everything she’s done on her own, she’s definitely single. I bet she has nice, soft features like our own saint who’s obviously taken and I even bet she has a massive rack worthy of the title World’s Greatest Saint.”

The other men looked at each other before the furthest soldier spoke again. “So about the Red Bear.”

“Please.” The other soldiers spoke.

“Alright, fine.” The flagrantly depraved look on the pervert soldier’s face shifted to one of sheer disinterest and disappointment after being shot down.

“They say even though the Red Bear was killed, its ghost still haunts the Northlands seeking to draw enough blood and consume enough flesh so it can one day return to the mortal world and take revenge…”

“Oh come on really, that’s it?” The soldier on the right sighed.

“...They say on days like these, where the snow is thick and the wind fierce, a lone figure can be seen in the distance. Watching. Waiting. Always approaching, completely unaffected by the weather. Those who allow it to get closer can faintly see blood dripping from its form.”

“So that’s why it’s called the Red Bear!” The pervert soldier shouted. The others looked at him in thorough disbelief.

“Can you let me finish?”

“Of course, sorry.”

“It’s said no one has survived to tell the tale if The Red Bear gets any closer. And anyone who so much as sees it, barely escapes with their lives. Corpses get buried by the snow too quick to be found.”

“Hey, does anyone else notice how much colder it got?” The soldier on the left checked the floating rock, only to find a warm glow still emanating from it.

“They say if you feel an unusual chill, it’s too late.” The storytelling soldier’s look darkened.

“Not now, we’ve gotta figure out what’s goin on.” The soldier on the left touched the stone, pulling his hand back as steam shot from it on contact, revealing a blackened glove when it dissipated.
The storytelling soldier checked his thermometer, turning pale when he read the temperature.
“Hey what’s wrong, what actually happens if we feel this chill. Think we could fend it off, it’s been years?” The pervert soldier asked.

“I remember hearing stories about it from my grandfather back when he was still around. Apparently he was lucky or unlucky enough to survive. It is whiter than snow, taller than normal bears, and so fast it would appear as a blur and leave as fast as it came. If it ever left someone alive, it was a warning, not a mercy. I still remember how disfigured he was… always said it was a blessing he didn’t die in that hospital bed…”

“So… we might be dead and just not know it yet?” The leftmost soldier asked. “I think I’ll take my chances asking the captain to look into replacing this thing.” He activated his personal heating stones, then fled the tent.

No matter which direction he looked, all he saw was white. But unlike anyone who might be stumbling around near base, he knew where to look, overhead and around him, faint, pearly lines pulsed in a circular path between tents, creating narrow, weather proof passages between the mounds of snow surrounding them.

A shiver originating from his hand ruptured through the soldier’s spine. His blackened gloves began to disintegrate from the sudden temperature shift. He returned to that tent.

“Hey you. I’m not interested in getting frostbite. Let’s see you fend off this cold.” He threw his broken glove at the pervert soldier. “Go ask for more gloves too.”
“Maybe if the Red Bear comes, Freydis will save me.”

“Well there aren’t many gears in your head, but I guess they’re turnin." The leftmost soldier made a rotating motion with a finger pointing towards his head, eliciting a laugh from the others.

With that, the pervert soldier rushed to the captain’s tent.

The captain’s tent was warmer and larger than the others, but a sinister chill from outside still managed to skulk in from time to time.

A woman’s back greeted him. She was at least two heads taller than him. It was almost difficult to believe she even fit in the tent in the first place. A heavy fur and leather coat functioned as a half skirt around her waist, while her long, unkempt hair covered some of her bare, muscular back.

Everything about her was white, her skin, her hair, her clothes, the semicircular ears atop her head…

… well everything except the blood creeping down her left shoulder.

“Wait.” The soldier whispered while connecting dots in his mind. “Bear. Blood.” It took a moment before some strange realization hit him. “Y-you’re the Red Bear aren’t you.” He fell down in prayer. “Please Saint Freydis save me, save us. Please, I beg of you.”

The captain tilted his body to see who spoke. “Boy you better have a damned good reason for coming in here!” He shouted.

But his reprimands were nothing compared to the woman’s gaze when she turned to face him. Two, red beams of light shot from her eyes, piercing straight through his skull, or at least that’s what it felt like when she looked at him.

She walked towards him.

“Miss Freydis, He’s just a boy please spare him. He’ll be getting a lot of reprimands for this later” The captain begged as he at the soldier.

She bent over, her hand stretched towards him.

He shrunk away, trying to clamber back into the cold. But he couldn’t her grasp as she… grabbed the broken glove he was carrying and tossed it to the captain. “I told you your gear was insufficient.”

“Now how in the damn hells did this happen boy.”

“Well one of the people in our tent touched the heat stone.”

“You complete fucking morons can’t even avoid touching the obviously hot object, what am I a god damn babysitter!”

“Stop blaming your men for faulty equipment and bad training.” She glared at the captain causing him to shrink back. “I brought those here because you lacked the food necessary to make the trip to Nachsedon.”

It was then the soldier noticed a pile of deer carcasses on the ground. “Wait… Freydis. He called you Freydis.” The same stalkerishly delighted smile returned to his face. “You really did come to save us. I don’t care if your breasts aren’t as large as I expected, I’ll still love you all the same.” He bolted towards her, arms outstretched.

The captain repeatedly slammed his fists into a makeshift table of boxes. “You Incompetent buffoon!, I’ll send your whole gods damned tent back to fend for yourselves!”

That was the last thing he heard before a fist the size of his head slammed into his face, knocking him unconscious.