It was bitter cold. Wind howled across the barren landscape, snow swirling in vicious gusts that stung against Hildy’s exposed skin. Her breath fogged in the icy air as she trudged forward, each step a struggle against the heavy snow beneath her boots. She was small for her age, nearly swallowed by the drifts—but she kept going.

Tucked deep in the folds of her coat was Stewart—the brain in the jar. The glass was slick with frost, and the jar pressed firmly against her chest like a burden she had chosen to carry. Over time, she had come to trust him. Strange, maybe, but there was no one she trusted more. She called him her best friend—though “advisor” might have been more accurate. He spoke not in whispers, but in a firm, low voice that carried even through the storm.

“Take me to Lamordia,” he had said—clear, direct, and without room for argument.

How he could speak without a mouth was a mystery, but Hildy had stopped questioning the impossible long ago.

Every so often, she glanced down at the jar, more out of habit than doubt. The blizzard had arrived without warning, wild and merciless, burying the old road beneath white waves. Her fingers and toes were going numb, but she didn’t stop.

“Lamordia,” she murmured, more to herself than to Stewart. “That’s where we’re going, right?”

“Correct,” he replied at once, the sound resonating from the jar with steady authority. “Lamordia lies ahead. Stay focused.”

That was all he said. It was all she needed.

Hildy had no idea where Lamordia truly was, or what to expect. Stewart had spoken of it often—but never in the way people talk about places on maps. It was north. Far north. Beyond places even merchants spoke of with unease. A land of cold, machines, and minds sharp enough to carve open truth itself.

She didn’t know it. But she believed in it—because Stewart believed in it.

The snow seemed alive, curling and shifting like it had eyes. Sometimes, she could feel those eyes. Watching from just beyond the white.

She’d never been this far from the ragtag group of adventurers she’d come to call family. In truth, she hadn’t meant to get this far at all. But when your best friend is a brain in a jar… things get complicated.

A violent gust slammed into her, and she flinched, clutching the jar tighter.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” she muttered through chattering teeth.

“You can,” Stewart replied without hesitation. “You will. Lamordia is close.”

She drew in a shaky breath, steeling herself against the wind.

“Stewart… what is Lamordia? Why is it so important to you?”

There was a pause—not uncertain, but deliberate. Then his voice came again, calm and commanding:

“Lamordia is a place of knowledge. Of precision. There, they will understand what I am. What we are. And they will know what must be done.”

His words settled on her like iron.

Another gust of wind nearly knocked her down. She blinked against the sting in her eyes, vision blurring.

The road ahead—if it could still be called a road—was vanishing beneath the snow.

“Do not stop,” Stewart said. “Keep moving. Lamordia is waiting.”

She grit her teeth and pushed forward. One step. Then another. Muscles burning. Numb feet dragging through the drifts.

“I’ll get you there,” she said. “No matter what. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

But deep down, a question lingered:
Would Lamordia even be a place they could reach? Or was it something else—buried beneath snow, secrets, and time?

Only the blizzard knew.