You return to the abandoned village, its familiar desolation punctuated by the whispers of the wind and the groan of old, weathered wood. The house where Mr. Whiskers resides stands as it did before, a silent sentinel in this forsaken place. As you step inside, a purr greets you, followed by a meow, and the little cat bounds out from another room, eyes alight with anticipation.

“Hello there! Have you come to play?” His question is innocent, yet you feel the weight of your mission. You explain quickly that Mrs. Piper sent you, that you carry something significant, and that he, too, might hold a piece needed for this battle against The Frozen King. You add, with a tinge of frustration, that you still don’t understand why you alone aren’t enough—why these items are essential when you are prepared to fight with all you have.

Mr. Whiskers listens, his expression thoughtful, his tail flicking behind him. “His magic is too strong, child,” he says, a rare seriousness in his voice. “You are not on even ground with him as you are with others. His pain is his shield, his loss a haunting specter, and his longing for his wife—his most potent weapon. You must break him, make him see the truth, and only then will you have the chance to strike.”

You swallow hard and ask if defeating The Frozen King will lift the icy curse that blankets the land, that both he and his wife perpetuate.

Mr. Whiskers’ eyes narrow, filled with an ancient sadness. “I am afraid not, child. The Creator sustains this place, frozen in its torment. Only by confronting and putting him down can you ever hope to mend this world, if it is even possible to heal such wounds.”

The realization makes your chest tighten. How could you ever face The Creator? Perhaps it would require the same approach as The Frozen King—a methodical gathering of pieces to break through the defenses of pain and memory. You shake your head to clear it, focusing on the task at hand.

You show Mr. Whiskers the simple silver necklace Mrs. Piper had given you and ask if he has anything that can be combined with it and the locket of hair to create the weapon that will help break The Frozen King’s power.

“I do,” he admits, but a playful glint returns to his eyes. “But I also enjoy seeing time—time that has passed, time that is present, and time that has yet to come. Can you bring that to me?”

You blink at him, puzzled. Time? What could he mean? A clock?