Tome of the Sheer Cold: Chapter 1 – Eternal Frost
The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Nordurspike, the expansive mountain range that spread from the very west to the very east of the northern province of Snouge. Its cold, biting gusts ripped through the air with a force that made every step a challenge. The ground beneath Tsaya’s boots crunched under the weight of the freshly fallen snow, and the frost clung to his exposed skin like an icy predator, its claws sinking deep into his very bones. Every breath he exhaled puffed out in thick clouds of vapor, momentarily visible before being swept away by the relentless wind.
His metafly wings fluttered behind him, catching the pale light of the moon. They shimmered like fragile sheets of ice, their delicate sparkle lost amidst the vast expanse of snow and stone. Tsaya’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his brow furrowed with determination. The mountain loomed above him, its jagged peaks seeming to cut through the night sky, and he felt the oppressive weight of its presence as though the mountain itself was watching him.
“The Nordur Spike…” he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind. He paused, narrowing his eyes as they traced the outlines of the towering summit. There was something about this place, something that tugged at him, deeper than the cold that seeped into his bones. “The crown of the north.”
A shiver ran through him, not from the cold, but from the sense of inevitability that seemed to surround him. He inhaled deeply, feeling the sharp sting of winter’s breath as it filled his lungs. “Winter is coming,” he muttered, his breath misting before him. “No… it’s already here. I can feel the frost clawing at my skin.”
The silence that followed was oppressive. It was as if the world had drawn in a breath, waiting. Only the crunch of his boots against the icy ground broke the stillness as he trudged forward, his senses heightened. Each step took him deeper into the heart of the frozen wilderness, where the very air seemed to hum with an ancient, dormant energy. There was no turning back now, not with the weight of destiny pressing upon him like the eternal frost that coated everything around him.
Ahead, the mouth of a cavernous entrance yawned wide in the side of the mountain. Tsaya approached it slowly, his gaze sweeping over the towering dark walls that framed it. There was something ancient about this place, something that made the air feel heavy with secrets.
“Something ancient… lives here,” he whispered, his voice filled with reverence and a hint of trepidation. His hand reached out, brushing against the cold stone. A faint vibration seemed to hum beneath his touch, like a heartbeat, subtle and enduring. “An energy that’s been breathing under this mountain for generations.”
His tail flicked with a graceful yet tense motion, a silent acknowledgment that his senses were alert. His wings fluttered gently, their soft glow a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness of the cave ahead. Every part of him was attuned to the moment, to the subtle shifts in the atmosphere, to the cold that had become more than just a physical sensation. It was as though the very essence of the mountain had seeped into his soul, chilling him from within.
“Argnor’s fire has consumed the land,” Tsaya muttered, his voice shaking slightly, as if recalling some distant, painful memory. His gaze lingered on the cavern, his heart pounding in his chest. “Was I not meant to leave this place behind?”
He hesitated, his eyes scanning the towering, icy walls that rose above him like sentinels. “Then why has my spirit drawn me back here? Why now?”
The question lingered in the cold air, unanswered, as Tsaya stepped forward into the cave. His hand trailed along the surface of an ancient pillar, its obsidian surface slick with frost. The coldness of the stone seeped into his palm, almost as if the ancient structure was sharing its timelessness with him.
“Everything here is made of ice,” Tsaya whispered, his fingers tracing the edges of the pillar. “Solid. Frozen in time.” His eyes followed the obsidian markers, etched with symbols that spoke of an age long past, a time before even he was born. He could feel the weight of history pressing down upon him, the echoes of long-forgotten voices swirling in the air around him.
He continued deeper into the mountain, his breath steady but shallow. His pulse quickened as he reached the top of a grand icy staircase, the steps descending into the depths of the earth. He hesitated, standing at the precipice, the vastness of the mountain stretching out before him like a frozen maw.
“This place…” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “I am nervous.”
For a moment, he stood still, his eyes fixed on the staircase before him. His breath came in ragged gasps, the cold air burning his lungs. He could feel the weight of something monumental pressing down on him, something that made his hands tremble and his heart race.
“Why?”
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the icy air rush into his lungs. Kairos… The word escaped his lips, barely a whisper, yet it carried with it a power that seemed to ripple through the very air around him. The space around him solidified, as though time itself had frozen, tethering him to the present moment. Everything became sharp, focused. The distant hum of the mountain grew louder, resonating deep within his chest.
“This is what the giant meant,” Tsaya whispered, his voice steadying. “Near the fire… so long ago.” His eyes opened, and there was a clarity in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. “The time of great change is here. Now… it has come to pass.”
With a slow, deliberate movement, Tsaya began his descent down the staircase, each step feeling heavier than the last. His hand grazed the icy rail, the cold seeping into his fingers. A low hum reverberated through the chamber, growing louder with each passing second. The atmosphere around him thickened, charged with a strange, unfamiliar energy.
At the base of the stairs, in the center of a square chamber, stood a dark figure, draped in robes blacker than night. A single,glowing eye gleamed from beneath the hood, watching him with an intensity that made Tsaya’s skin prickle.
“Oh… Commander,” the figure’s voice echoed through the chamber, its tone almost mocking. “So you’ve finally arrived.”
Tsaya straightened, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight before him. “Gralik.”
The figure chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down Tsaya’s spine. “I’ve been waiting for your arrival in this sacred place. Tell me, do you feel it? All is about to change.”
The chamber shuddered, as if in response to Gralik’s words. Three blocky pillars rose from the ground, one bearing a hexagram, another a small mouse, and the third a sigilized map. The symbols glowed faintly, casting an eerie light across the chamber.
“Long ago, you were cast into this eternity…” Gralik began, his voice trailing off.
“Gralik,” Tsaya’s voice was cold, cutting through the air like a blade. “Speak plainly to me.”
The ground beneath them trembled as another block emerged, its surface swirling with animated sigils. The etchings depicted young dragons, their claw marks wrapping around the block’s diameter, glowing with an otherworldly light.
“Trilax…” Tsaya’s voice softened as if speaking to an old memory. “I saw the drake’s spirit in a long-forgotten dream.”
Gralik chuckled again, his voice rich with amusement. “Oh, but you never forget, Tsaya. That is the beauty of the crystallized piece of onyx.” His tone shifted, becoming more serious. “Even in the trials of water, you knew who you were, even as your agency drowned in a vortex.”
“Maybe so…” Tsaya’s voice was steely now, his resolve hardening. “And yet, I’ve been unsure… unsure of where to go.”
Gralik’s presence seemed to grow, the air around them crackling with cold, unseen energy. The walls of the chamber cracked slightly, as if the weight of their words was too much for the ancient structure to bear.
“You’ve always known,” Gralik murmured, his voice soft yet commanding. “That’s why I stand here with you.”
Tsaya’s anger flared, the heat of it momentarily cutting through the cold. “Was I really nothing but Argnor’s hound? A token of war?”
Gralik’s expression remained calm, unaffected. “That’s what the giants of old did.”
Tsaya’s eyes flashed with bitterness. “Look around, Cyclops. They’re not here anymore. Neither is Osteria.”
A cold breeze swept through the chamber as if the wind itself responded to Tsaya’s words. Gralik smirked.
“No… but you are. You are here.” His voice echoed, the weight of his words pressing down on Tsaya like a physical force. “Your fortress awaits, Commander. Go on. There is nothing to fear.”
Suddenly, a blizzard engulfed the chamber, swirling snow and ice in a chaotic dance around them. Tsaya shielded his eyes, but when the storm subsided, Gralik was gone. The chamber, once filled with tension and the presence of the enigmatic figure now felt eerily hollow. The stillness that followed Gralik’s departure was deafening as if the very air in the chamber held its breath. Tsaya remained where he stood, staring at the empty space where the dark-robed figure had just been. His thoughts swirled like the snow that had enveloped him moments before, clouded with questions and the heavy weight of uncertainty.
“Nothing to fear…” he whispered to himself, but the words felt hollow, a mantra that barely resonated in the vast, frozen space. His breath, visible once again, lingered for a moment before being swallowed by the cold. His body shivered involuntarily as the bitter chill crept back in, its icy fingers wrapping around him, reminding him that he was very much alone.
Tsaya took a step forward, his boots crunching on the frosted ground, the sound echoing faintly in the empty chamber. He forced himself to move, knowing that standing still would only allow doubt to creep deeper into his mind. His wings fluttered behind him, catching the pale light of the chamber’s icy walls, and for a moment, their glow gave him a small sense of comfort.
He moved towards the center of the room, his eyes scanning the space as if expecting something—anything—to happen. The blocky pillars that had risen around Gralik were still there, their symbols glowing faintly in the dim light. The hexagram, the small mouse, the sigilized map—each felt significant, but their meaning remained just out of reach. Tsaya’s gaze lingered on the pillars for a moment before his eyes were drawn to the newly emerged block at the center of the room.
The block’s surface was alive with movement, the animated sigils swirling in a mesmerizing dance. The young dragons carved into the stone seemed to move with a life of their own, their claw marks etched deep into the block, glowing with an eerie, otherworldly light. Tsaya stepped closer, his heart quickening as he studied the intricate designs.
“Trilax…” he murmured, the name slipping from his lips as if pulled from a distant memory. He could almost see the drake’s spirit, hovering at the edge of his mind, a fleeting image from a dream long forgotten.
Tsaya’s hand reached out to touch the block, his fingers brushing against its cold, smooth surface. The sensation sent a shiver up his arm, not from the cold, but from the energy that thrummed beneath the stone, pulsing with an ancient power that seemed to recognize him. The dragons carved into the block continued their silent battle, their forms twisting and writhing as if they fought not just for space, but for dominance over the very essence of the stone.
“Why have you brought me here?” Tsaya whispered, his voice filled with both wonder and frustration. He had been cast into this eternity, as Gralik had said, but to what end? What purpose did this frozen wasteland hold for him? The weight of his uncertainty pressed down on him, a burden he had carried for far too long.
The air in the chamber shifted a subtle change that Tsaya felt more than saw. It was as if the very atmosphere had grown heavier, denser, and yet somehow more alive. He could feel it in his bones, the weight of the past, the pull of prophecy, and the undeniable sense that something monumental was on the horizon.
“You never forget…” Gralik’s voice echoed in his mind, the words lingering like the frost that clung to the walls. “Even in the trials of water, you knew who you were.”
Did he? The question gnawed at him, its sharp edges cutting into the fragile certainty he had tried to maintain. He had faced countless trials, endured the torment of uncertainty, and yet, through it all, there had always been a part of him that clung to something—something unshakable, something that felt like truth.