Reincarnated as an Elf Prince-Chapter 150: Road Ahead (4)

He shifted the strap of his pack again. It had rubbed his shoulder raw beneath the layers. The cold dulled the sting, but not the awareness.

The next ridge came into view. Just a shadow at first. Then clearer. A split in the mountain wall, narrow and sharp like a claw had carved it.

Lira turned her head. Her voice didn’t carry far.

"There."

No one responded.

She picked up her pace slightly. Not enough to call it speed. Just purpose.

Lindarion followed.

He could see it now. A shallow overhang. The cliff face curved in like someone had punched the mountain and left a dent. Not deep. But enough.

Enough to stop the wind.

That was all that mattered.

Lira stepped into the hollow first. Her body disappeared from the snow haze, then reappeared, smaller. Sheltered.

Ren reached it next. She dropped her pack, slid down onto the rock floor, and exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for the last two hours.

Meren nearly fell in.

Ardan caught him under one arm and guided him in without comment.

Lindarion stood at the edge.

The snow clung to every edge of his coat now. His scarf had frozen at the corner of his jaw. He reached up and tugged it down. It didn’t move.

He stepped in.

The wind stopped.

Not a little.

Completely.

No push at his back. No howl in his ears. No sting across his face.

Just quiet.

He blinked. Let the snow melt off his lashes.

His fingers trembled as he pulled the scarf free, slowly unwinding it. His breath finally stayed in his lungs longer than a second.

Meren had curled into a corner. Ren sat cross-legged, pulling off her gloves and muttering something under her breath about her fingers being traitors.

Lira crouched by the far wall, brushing ice from her boots.

Ardan didn’t sit. Just stood at the entrance like he wasn’t sure what to do with stillness.

Lindarion found a spot near the back. He didn’t sit yet. Just leaned one hand on the stone. It was dry. Still cold. But dry.

He looked at it.

Then looked at the others.

Then let out one long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding since the slope.

’We made it.’

Not far.

Not safe.

But far enough for now.

—

The hollow didn’t offer much. Stone. Frost. A patch of broken shale underfoot that scraped if you shifted wrong. No wind, at least. But the air sat heavy. The kind of cold that knew how to wait. Not cruel. Just patient.

Lindarion crouched near the center, elbows on his knees, trying not to look like his fingers were shaking.

Meren huffed beside him, fog curling out of his scarf like steam from a cracked kettle. "I can’t feel my face."

Ren muttered, "We noticed."

"I think it fell off," Meren added. "Let me know if you see it rolling around."

Ardan stood just outside the mouth of the shelter, shoulders square, gaze angled uphill. He hadn’t moved since they stopped. The man had the patience of bedrock.

Lira was sitting now, one leg folded under her, arms tucked in. Watching the snow fall with the kind of expression that said she wasn’t impressed.

Lindarion exhaled. A short breath. Cold. But not painful.

His palms hovered over the dirt for a moment.

’This is stupid.’

He didn’t need flint. He didn’t need tinder.

The cold hadn’t touched his core. It couldn’t. Not anymore.

He lifted one hand slowly. Fingers spread.

The warmth flicked to life before he spoke.

Just a thread of flame, no bigger than his palm, swaying gently above the stone. Quiet. Steady.

It didn’t crackle. It didn’t roar. It just was.

Ren blinked. "Well, finally."

"I thought we were being rustic," Lindarion said.

"You’re literally a walking furnace. Stop being polite."

Meren dragged himself closer like a starving cat. "I’m not even going to pretend I’m not impressed."

The flame held. No strain. No flare. Just a soft heat blooming outward now, filling the space between them one inch at a time.

Ardan looked over. Didn’t speak. But something in his posture shifted, just slightly.

Lira’s eyes landed on the fire.

Then on Lindarion.

She didn’t say anything either.

’Let them wonder.’

He kept his hand steady. The fire grew, a little at a time. Not too fast. Not too flashy.

Ren dropped to sit beside him with a soft sigh. "That’s better."

"It’s not even that warm yet," Lindarion said.

"No, but it’s controlled. Feels cleaner than real fire."

"It is real fire."

"Yeah, but you’re cheating."

He didn’t argue.

Meren slumped closer. His boots scraped loudly. "Don’t let it go out."

"I won’t."

"I’ll cry."

"I won’t watch."

Lindarion finally settled back again, shifting just enough to keep the flame level. His fingers didn’t ache anymore. The warmth had reached his elbows now.

He didn’t even need to focus. The mana moved on its own. Calm. Familiar.

Like it had been waiting to be used again. freewёbnoνel.com

’Guess I really am back.’

Lira’s gaze stayed on the fire. Her mouth opened like she might say something.

Then didn’t.

He didn’t press.

The others were quiet now. Just the hush of snow outside and the low hum of heat slowly unfreezing the air around them.

It wasn’t a hearth.

But it was home enough for now.

—

The flame steadied in his palm.

Small. Quiet. Enough.

No one stared. No one flinched. They just leaned closer to the heat like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it was. For a mage, at least.

Ren was the first to speak. "Could’ve done that an hour ago."

Lindarion shrugged with one shoulder. "We were moving."

"That’s a yes, then."

She held her hands a little closer to the flickering heat. Her fingers were red at the joints, skin raw from wind and snow. Still, she looked more annoyed than grateful.

Meren scooted an inch closer, wrapped in his scarf like a sad burrito. "So you have a fire affinity right?"

"Yeah."

"I honestly figured. You’ve got that brooding-warmth vibe."

Lindarion raised an eyebrow. "What does that even mean."

"You know," Meren said, waving vaguely. "Like you’d roast someone with a stare. Or an actual fireball."