Evan POV

  Walter: “About time you guys came to save my ass. Let’s hurry back and get me revived already—it’s really boring being a ghost, you know.”

  Evan: Wellllll… we could do that.

  Walter paused I could feel that he knew something was wrong.

  Evan: Or—hear me out—we check out that mysterious village nearby instead?

  Walter: WHAT!?! Why!?

  Aisha: Honestly? I kinda want to see those blue-skinned ice people too.

  I turned toward the both of them and raised an eyebrow.

  Evan: Alright then. Those who don’t wanna go to the village—raise your hand.

  I waited.

  Silence.

  No hands.

  Evan: Looks like the vote’s unanimous. Village it is!

  Walter: THAT CONDITION IS UNFAIR TO ME! I’M DEAD!

  I shrugged. Well… maybe you shouldn’t be dead.

  Walter: I hate you all sometimes.

  Evan: Love you too, bud.

  I scanned the area to get a better lay of the land.

  We were smack in the middle of a snow-covered forest, surrounded by what I recognized as Boreal Trees—tall, spindly things with icy bark and dense wood. In Terraria, they’re one of the best early-game materials. Solid durability. Surprisingly good aesthetic, one my favorites actually.

  Snow was up to my knees, making every step a bit of a slog.

  The sky was clear though, and judging by the sun’s position, we still had a few good hours of daylight before we’d need to bunker down or freeze our butts off.

  Before heading to the village, I took out my axe and started chopping a few of the Boreal trees down. Aisha joined in without question, because apparently the first step to diplomacy is deforestation.

  We also mined the snow and ice nearby.

  Because priorities.

  With the snow, I could craft Snowballs—a throwable item that, for some bizarre reason, is categorized as a striker-class weapon. Don’t ask me how that makes sense. Terraria logic.

  And so, with wood in our packs, snowballs in the crafting queue, and Walter’s corpse still nicely tucked into my inventory like an awkwardly-packed lunch…

  We made our way toward the village of the ice people.

  With the ice blocks we collected, I started crafting Ice Torches, which would let me make Frostburn Arrows later on.

  Best early-game arrows, hands down. Nothing like setting monsters on fire and slowing them down with style.

  Once we’d stocked up on enough materials, the three of us started heading toward the village. The snow crunched under our boots as we walked, chatting along the way.

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  “Hey, Aisha,” I said, glancing at her. “Have you really been lazing around since you got here?”

  She puffed up immediately. “How rude! I’ve been studying magic diligently, thank you very much.”

  “Uh-huh. And aside from that? Anything that might actually help us get home—or at least something weird you've noticed?”

  She tapped her chin thoughtfully.

  “Well… I did notice something strange about the NPCs.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Strange how?”

  “I started talking to them more—asking what they were doing before they met me. And, well… those who have a past? You can feel it in their personality. They have depth. Flaws. Details. But the ones who don’t…”

  Walter: …feel like dead-but-alive husks of people?

  Aisha nodded. “Yeah. You could say that.”

  My brow furrowed. “...How many of them are like that? You know. ‘Dead inside’?”

  “So far, I’ve noticed two. The Nurse and the Party Girl.”

  Huh.

  Now that she mentioned it…

  The Nurse only ever speaks when spoken to. Always calm, cold, robotic. She’ll report to me when I issue an order, but never shares anything personal. No warmth. Just… programmed.

  And the Party Girl?

  I hadn’t even met her yet.

  Hold on—

  “You already have the Party Girl with you!?” I snapped, spinning toward her.

  Aisha blinked innocently. “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Yeah, she’s in the castle,” Aisha replied casually.

  “Huh… which brings me to another weird thing—how come we both have the same NPCs showing up at our homes?” I asked.

  “You mean the Nurse?”

  “Exactly. Feels kinda sus.”

  “I dunno,” she shrugged. “But maybe the Guide knows something.”

  “Hmm… maybe.”

  We kept chatting as we walked, crunching through snow and weaving between frozen tree trunks. Before long, the fencing of the village came into view.

  A modest little place, enclosed by towering dark-wood fence posts that stretched twice my height. They looked hand-carved, worn by snow and wind, but sturdy. You could tell this village wasn’t new—it’d been here for a while.

  The population?

  Small. Probably no more than a hundread or so of these blue-skinned giants.

  And when I say giants—I mean it.

  The shortest one I could see still towered over me. Shoulder-to-shoulder, I didn’t even reach their upper chest. Honestly? I’d be offended if it wasn’t so fascinating.

  Each one wore a thick half-sleeve leather tunic that hung just above their knees. Simple. Functional. The kind of clothes you'd expect in a place where frostbite is a Tuesday problem.

  But it wasn’t the clothing that stood out.

  It was their bodies.

  Their arms—from the elbow down—were made of a shimmering, translucent blue crystal. Looked like refined ice, but with none of the fragility. Their hands were humanoid in shape, just… crystalline. Like someone took a frost elemental and sculpted it into a high-fantasy action figure.

  Their legs though?

  A whole different beast.

  From the knee down, the same glacial crystal covered them. But where feet should be, there were three jagged blade-like spikes—one large at the front, two smaller ones angled at the back. I watched one of them walk, and the sound was like dull ice scraping against stone.

  Terrifyingly cool.

  Literally.

  The villagers moved calmly—some talking with each other in a soft, melodic language that echoed like wind through icicles. Others prepared for what looked like a hunting trip, slinging bone-tipped spears and iced up leather rucksacks over their shoulders.

  “Wow…” Aisha muttered as we passed the fence line. “They’re freaking huge.”

  “No kidding,” I replied, tilting my head back to actually look one of them in the face. “Wanna head in?”

  Walter: “This ain’t an RPG, dude. You’re not gonna get a side quest just for walking into a village.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Aisha shrugged, already strolling ahead. “Let’s just explore a bit before heading back.”

  Walter: “Am I the only one worried they might not like strangers?”

  “Well,” I said, eyeing the path ahead, “if they were hostile, they’d probably have guards posted or, I don’t know, hidden the whole village better. No gates, no sentries—seems like a friendly place for a quick stroll.”

  Walter: “Fine. But I’m calling it now—just a quick stroll.”

  “Alrighty then!” I grinned, and we stepped through the entrance like we owned the place.

  That’s when I heard it.

  “Humans!?”

  …

  Oh no.

  Every massive blue head turned toward us at once.

  Let me tell you—there’s nothing more unnerving than an entire village of tall, icy giants all turning to stare at you like you just stepped into their sacred hot spring with muddy boots.

  Aisha leaned in close.

  “Evan. Let’s ditch this place and run like hell.”

  “Let’s not,” I whispered back. “Maybe we talk first? Pretty sure they won’t just kill us without warning.”

  Walter: “Yeah, just don’t get killed. That’s a permadeath kind of mistake.”

  Oddly enough… no one rushed us. No one screamed. No one even moved.

  They just… stared.

  With wide, curious eyes. Like we were some sort of exotic animal in a traveling circus.

  Then one of them stepped forward.

  A massive figure, taller than the rest, carrying a spear the size of a small tree. His crystal arms shimmered under the overcast sky, his expression unreadable.

  He stopped a few feet in front of us.

  Stared directly at me.

  And said the words I absolutely did not want to hear today:

  “Reid? Is that you?”

  …

  “Ugh. Not this shit again…”