Frostlands Transit Port

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...

It wasn't until midnight that the oceangoing vessel finally crossed the Void Storm Monitoring Zone and drew close to the Roya Frostlands.

Beyond the porthole, through veils of sea mist, rose an icebound cliff stretching endlessly in both directions. I kept my eyes fixed on them, breath unconsciously quickening as the towering "white wall" loomed nearer. Until now, the frostlands had existed for me only in headlines, and the transnational Polar Collective felt impossibly distant. Yet here they were. I was about to see them with my own eyes. The ship's mooring broadcast blended with the deep groan of capstans and the strain of hawsers, announcing our arrival at the Roya Icebreak Port.

After enduring several rounds of rigorous inspections, I joined the research team and departed the port. Together, we boarded a transfer elevator bound for the frostlands' central region. The car was large enough to carry supplies sufficient to sustain a small research station for six months. But barely two minutes after it began its ascent, my sense of scale was shattered completely. As the massive elevator crawled up the frozen cliff face, it felt like an ant struggling to climb the side of a mountain.

...

With the assistance of the research team, my journey to the Polar Research Outpost went smoothly. After registration, the captain led me to the storage room, where I was issued all the necessities required for surviving in the frostlands. I was then shown to my quarters—the room that I would spend every morning and night during my stay.

I left my personal luggage there and began exploring the station's facilities. Thanks to the Pioneer Association's advance notice to the researchers perhaps, I was able to move through most of the station without obstruction, aside from a handful of restricted areas. From what I could tell, Phase One of the Polar Collective's construction, namely the Frostlands Transit Port, had already been fully completed. According to the researchers, the local inhabitants, the Roya, along with the Exoswarm they herded, had played a significant role in the construction process.

However, when I asked about the plans for Phase Two, no one gave me a clear answer. Most of the personnel were absorbed in their own research and construction duties. Though none of them said it outright, their expressions made it clear enough: they had no time for a mere "visitor" from the Pioneer Association.

...

Based on my observations, the research station had received a total of ninety-two trucks over the past three days. Of the supplies they carried, only a very small portion was distributed to other areas across the frostlands. Most were sent underground via the light-rail system. From this, I concluded that Phase Two of the project was not focused on the frostlands themselves, but on the subterranean Lahai-Roi region—accessible only through the Starward Riseway.

...

On the sixth day, I woke as usual in the Polar Research Outpost. After breakfast in the dining area, I sought out the expedition leader once more and submitted my request to visit Lahai-Roi for the third time. As expected, my request was denied again. I couldn't hide my disappointment, but I understood their caution. Everything here—the discoveries, the implications—was too extraordinary, too deeply unsettling to established knowledge. Even with the Pioneer Association backing me, they had every reason to proceed with caution.
...

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...

Just before the day I was scheduled to return, the captain sought me out. She said there was somewhere she wanted to show me. And so, wearing a protective suit for the first and last time in this journey, I boarded the expedition boat called Icecleaver with the rest of the research team.

After around an hour of jolting through broken ice, I forced back the nausea and stumbled down the gangway.

It was a day I would never forget.

Amid clusters of white, blue, and violet structures stood people dressed in unfamiliar garments. Nearby, a gigantic white, bear-shaped mech lay half-asleep. Seeing my stunned expression, the captain explained, "The Polar Collective's construction work is highly classified, so I can't take you to Lahai-Roi. But you can meet the Roya. They're the natives here. Most live underground, though a few have settled in the frostlands."

I remember every detail of that day. We spent the entire afternoon there, yet it passed far too quickly.

I couldn't understand their language. Every exchange had to be relayed through the captain, who was fluent in their tongue. Even so, their kindness came through unmistakably. They told me they were shepherds who herd the Exoswarm. At regular intervals, they led the Exoswarm up to the frostlands, where they gathered with larger units such as the Glommoths and Glommothas. Together, they would journey toward the Exostrider. In the end, all Exoswarm returned to the colossal Exostrider, which was said to slumber at the edge of the frostlands, the origin from which the Exoswarm were born.

Inside one of their dwellings, they shared a meal with me: roasted vegetables shaped into compact clusters, and a cured fish dish with a unique fragrance. Before we parted, we took a photograph together. I printed it on the spot and gave them copies. In return, they presented me with a strange seashell. Its surface was marked with countless small hollows, arranged in a precise spiral. According to the captain, it was a tool they used for counting.

…

When the ice cliffs finally sank below the horizon, I closed the porthole. Waves struck the hull in a steady rhythm—clang, clang—like a muted bell. I listened quietly as drowsiness crept in.

In my dream, I saw the Roya again. Against the howling wind and snow beyond the window, they sang a farewell song for me:

Walk onward, walk onward.
So quiet, in this gentle night,
I walk onward.

Not far away, right beneath my feet.
Through the open door,
Toward the dusk, toward the distant land.
Leaving the world behind,
Laying all worries to rest.
No more fear, no more doubt.

Parents wait with hopeful eyes,
Old friends gather once again.
Those familiar faces,
Those familiar faces.