Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband-Chapter 118: The Ice Road

Two days later on the northern highway.

The transition wasn’t gradual. It was violent.

One moment, the Marquis Carriage was rolling through the pine forests of the Midlands, where the snow was a polite dusting on the trees. The next, they crossed the invisible border of the Whispering Mountains, and the world turned white.

The wind didn’t blow here; it screamed. It tore across the tundra, carrying ice crystals that hit the carriage windows like gravel.

Inside, the magical heating crystal mounted on the ceiling flickered.

Zzzzt.

"That’s the third time," Lord Rurik grumbled, tapping the crystal with a claw. "The ambient mana is too thin. The cold is eating the magic."

Primrose pulled her fur collar tighter. She could see her breath in the air. "I didn’t think it would be this cold. It feels... heavy."

"It is the Wolf’s Breath," Rurik explained, looking out at the blinding white landscape. "The North is not just cold because of the weather. It is cold because the Ancestral Shrine absorbs all the heat to power the Barrier. We Wolves are used to it."

"USED TO IT?" Vali yelled.

The little wolf cub was practically vibrating. He was pressed against the window, his nose creating a foggy circle on the glass.

"LOOK AT ALL THE SNOW!" Vali howled. "Dad! Dad! Can we stop? I want to eat it! I want to dig a hole!"

"Sit down, pup," Rurik sighed, though he smirked. "You will get plenty of snow soon. We are almost at the Hold."

But not everyone was enjoying the climate shift.

"Status report," Caspian murmured, looking down at his lap.

Orion didn’t answer immediately. The little Prince was curled into a tight ball, wrapped in three wool blankets. His face was pale, his lips slightly blue. His usually bright teal eyes were half-closed and hazy.

"I feel... slow," Orion mumbled, his teeth chattering slightly. "My fingers... I can’t feel them. I just want to sleep."

"He’s freezing," Primrose realized, alarmed. She reached out and touched Orion’s cheek. It felt like marble.

"Jioaren are cold-blooded," Caspian explained, his expression tight with worry. "We regulate our temperature through the water. In the air... especially air this cold... his body is shutting down to preserve energy."

"Come here," Caspian commanded.

He didn’t wait. He pulled Primrose onto the bench next to him, then lifted the bundled-up Orion and placed him squarely between them.

"Pack huddle," Caspian ordered.

He unbuttoned his heavy winter coat and wrapped the sides around both Primrose and Orion, creating a cocoon of body heat. Primrose immediately wrapped her arms around the boy, rubbing his back vigorously.

"Vali!" Rurik barked. "Duty calls."

"On it!" Vali chirped.

The wolf cub jumped off his seat. He scrambled onto the floor and flopped his furry, heat-radiating body right across Caspian and Primrose’s feet.

"Wolf heater deployed!" Vali announced, resting his chin on Caspian’s boot.

Within minutes, the combined warmth began to work. Color returned to Orion’s cheeks. He blinked, looking up at Primrose with sleepy, grateful eyes. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"You’re really warm, Prim," Orion whispered, snuggling deeper into her coat. "Warm like... fresh toast."

Primrose laughed softly, kissing the top of his head. "I’m glad I can be your toaster, Orion. Foxes run hot, you know."

Caspian rested his chin on top of Primrose’s head, his arms tightening around them both.

"I should have left him in the Capital," Caspian murmured, guilt lacing his voice. "He isn’t built for this land."

"He wanted to be with his father," Primrose whispered back, leaning into his warmth. "And he’s safe. We have a Wolf Lord and a Fox Toaster. He’ll be fine."

Caspian pressed a kiss to her temple. "I will burn this whole frozen wasteland down before I let either of you freeze."

It was a romantic sentiment, but Primrose felt the magical heat flare in his chest. He meant it literally.

She pressed her hand against his heart. It didn’t feel like skin; it felt like a furnace contained in glass. She realized then that Caspian wasn’t immune to the cold either. He was simply suppressing it. He was actively burning his own immense mana reserves to generate artificial heat, keeping his body temperature high to protect his family. If he ran out of mana, he would freeze just as fast as Orion.

On the opposite bench, Lord Rurik watched them.

He saw the way Caspian held her—possessive, protective, absolute. He saw the way Primrose leaned into him, trusting him completely. The air around them practically vibrated with a connection that went deeper than just shared parenting or duty.

Rurik felt a sharp, cold pang in his chest that had nothing to do with the weather. He had always admired the Nanny. Her fire, her soup, the way she handled his wild son when no one else could. Part of him had hoped... maybe, one day...

He looked away, staring out at the white blur of the tundra so they wouldn’t see the resignation in his eyes.

I guess I don’t have a chance with Primrose, Rurik thought, a bitter smile touching his lips. They are already a pack of their own. I missed my shot before I even took it.

Suddenly, the carriage lurched.

SCREECH.

The horses screamed—a sound of pure terror. The carriage skidded sideways, slamming Primrose into Caspian’s chest. The magical wheels locked up, sliding across the surface of the road before grinding to a halt.

"Stay here," Rurik ordered. His voice had dropped an octave. The ’Fun Dad’ was gone; the Warlord was back.

Rurik kicked the door open and jumped out into the blizzard.

Caspian didn’t stay put. "Watch the cubs."

He followed Rurik.

Primrose peered out the open door. The wind howled, cutting through her coat like a knife.

The road ahead wasn’t white.

About ten meters in front of the horses, the snowy path had been swallowed by something else. Huge, jagged spikes of black crystal had erupted from the ground, piercing the permafrost like obsidian teeth.

The road was coated in a layer of Black Ice.

It wasn’t normal ice. It was opaque, inky, and swallowed the light. The snow falling on it didn’t pile up; it hissed and vanished, consumed by the darkness.

"What is that?" Primrose whispered.

Rurik stood near the edge of the patch. He reached out a claw, hovering it over the black surface. The air around it rippled.

"Don’t touch it," Caspian warned, stepping up beside him.

"I know," Rurik growled. "It absorbs mana. If I touch it, it will eat the heat right out of my blood."

Rurik looked at the horizon. They were still miles from the fortress.

"This is the Void," Rurik said, his face pale. "This is physical corruption."

"But why here?" Caspian asked, staring at the black spikes. "The Shrine is supposed to contain it. The Void shouldn’t be able to manifest on the surface unless..."

"Unless the Shrine is already leaking," Rurik finished. "This isn’t an attack from the outside, Caspian. This is the earth bleeding. The container is cracking."

He looked at the carriage, then at the treacherous road ahead.

"We can’t take the main road," Rurik said. "The Black Ice will eat the carriage wheels. We have to go off-road. Through the Old Pass."

The detour took hours.

They navigated through treacherous ravines and dense, frozen forests. The mood in the carriage had shifted from cozy to tense. Even Vali had stopped looking out the window; the unnatural black veins running through the snow drifts were scaring him.

Finally, as the sun began to set—painting the sky in bruises of purple and grey—they saw it.

Winter-Hold.

It wasn’t a castle. It was a mountain that had been carved into a weapon.

Massive walls of grey stone rose hundreds of feet into the air, topped with jagged battlements that looked like wolf fangs. There were no banners flying. No smoke rising from the chimneys. The fortress sat in the cradle of the valley, silent and imposing, a tomb of stone and ice.

"It looks... dead," Primrose whispered.

"It is besieged," Caspian noted, his eyes scanning the walls. "Not by an army, but by fear. Look at the gates."

The massive iron gates were shut tight. Runes glowed faintly on the metal—defensive wards set to maximum power.

The carriage rolled up the causeway. Rurik jumped out before it even stopped.

"OPEN THE GATES!" Rurik roared, his voice amplified by magic. "I am Lord Rurik! I have returned!"

Silence.

Then, movement on the battlements.

A row of crossbowmen appeared. They didn’t wave. They didn’t cheer.

They leveled their weapons at Rurik.

"Halt!" a guard shouted down, his voice shaking. "Identify yourself! No one enters Winter-Hold! By order of the Marquis!"

"I AM his brother, you idiots!" Rurik yelled, his fur bristling with rage. "Open this gate before I tear it down!"

"The Marquis has no brother!" the guard shouted back. "Lord Rurik abandoned the clan years ago! Step back, imposter, or we fire!"

Rurik froze. The accusation hit him harder than a physical blow. Abandoned.

Inside the carriage, Primrose gasped.

"They don’t know," she realized. "Or Konrad has told them Rurik is dead to the family."

Caspian stood up. He adjusted his coat. He didn’t look angry. He looked regal.

"Stay with the boys," he told Primrose.

He stepped out of the carriage. He didn’t shout. He didn’t plead. He simply walked to the front of the horses and looked up at the wall.

He let his King’s Aura flare—a massive, crushing pressure of oceanic mana that made the very air heavy.

"I am King Caspian de Maris," he said, his voice calm but projecting with the force of a tidal wave. "I am here on a Royal Inspection. Aim a weapon at me again, and I will bring the ocean to this mountain and drown you all."

The guards on the wall trembled. The crossbows lowered.

Silence stretched across the frozen waste.

Then, slowly, agonizingly, the massive iron gears began to turn.

GROAN.

The gates of Winter-Hold began to open. But the darkness inside looked far more welcoming than the Black Ice behind them.