"...Father?"
The word escaped Aurea's lips before she could stop it—soft, fractured, as though saying it aloud made it more dangerous, more real.
The figure stepped closer through the trees, and now the morning light touched his features.
He looked... unchanged.
Same sharp cheekbones, same silver-streaked dark hair, same piercing violet eyes that used to regard her with cold, heavy expectation. But his presence—that was new. Before, her father had always moved like a man burdened by power.
Now... he moved like he was power.
Aurea's hand flew instinctively to the glyph on her chest.
Kael stepped between them in an instant, sword unsheathed. Eryan appeared at her flank, daggers drawn. Riven circled silently to the side, eyes flicking between the man and Aurea.
The stranger raised a hand—palm open. "I mean no harm."
Kael didn't lower his blade.
"You're supposed to be dead," Aurea said, voice low.
Her father smiled. Not kindly.
"I was," he replied. "But the dead don't rest easily in this world, not when the Veil is thinning."
A sharp chill twisted through the air at his words. The glacier behind them groaned—almost as if it heard him.
Eryan narrowed his eyes. "You're not just her father. Not anymore."
"No," he admitted. "I am what remains of Arvyn Ceryn, once High Magister of the Scorching Circle. And now... emissary of something far older."
Aurea's stomach turned. The Circle was long dead—burned from existence in the wake of their final war against the Frostborn Dominion. Her father's death had been the price.
She'd watched him fall.
"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Riven asked flatly, hand on the hilt of his curved blade.
"Waiting," Arvyn said. "For Aurea to unlock the gate."
Kael's blade twitched. "How do you know about the temple?"
Arvyn's gaze shifted toward the Weeping Spine, a look of something like reverence passing over his face. "Because I was the one who sealed it."
A long silence.
"Bullshit," Eryan muttered. "No mortal—"
"I wasn't mortal when I did it," Arvyn interrupted. "Not anymore."
Aurea's pulse thundered in her ears. "You knew what was buried here? You knew what would wake?"
"I didn't just know," he said. "I bound it."
And then he looked at her.
"I did it to protect you."
Aurea recoiled. "By abandoning me? By dying and letting Mother rot in madness while I was dragged through ash and blood just to survive?"
His face didn't change, but something in his eyes dimmed.
"I did it," he said softly, "because I saw what you would become."
The earth trembled beneath them—soft, at first. But then the vibration grew. A low hum began to resonate through the glacier wall.
The words from before echoed once more:
"Only those who have died in fire may pass through frost."
Arvyn turned toward the wall. "That was my death. My sacrifice. I'm the key."
"Then unlock it," Aurea snapped.
He looked back.
"Not alone."
Kael stepped forward. "You think we'll let you drag her into this frozen tomb?"
"It's not a tomb," Arvyn said calmly. "It's a prison. And if it breaks, your swords won't matter."
"Then maybe we shouldn't unseal it," Riven said, voice sharp.
"You don't have a choice. The moment Aurea touched the wall, the bindings began to fail. If you leave now, this whole region will be under the frost by sundown."
Aurea felt the glyph on her chest pulse—like it was answering something. Or calling to it.
She clenched her jaw. "What's inside?"
Arvyn's voice dropped.
"The first of the Bound. The Frostwrought King."
Inside the mountain, the walls breathed.
The group followed Arvyn through a narrow pass that had opened in the ice, the temperature dropping with each step. Their breath fogged in the air. Frost clung to eyelashes. Magic—old, wild, angry—buzzed in the stones.
Glyphs flickered to life as Aurea passed them, ancient runes in languages she didn't recognize but somehow understood. Visions danced across her mind—battles waged in ice, a golden flame roaring against an unending blizzard, a voice whispering from deep beneath the world:
"Fire is fleeting. Frost endures."
They reached a cavern—vast and hollow, like the ribcage of some dead god. In its center was a dais, and on the dais... a coffin.
Made entirely of black ice.
Chains—glowing with flame-magic—wrapped around it like serpents. They were cracking.
"Once, he ruled the North," Arvyn said, stepping toward the coffin. "And when death came for him, he refused. He offered his soul to the Deep Frost. And it took him."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Why seal him here?"
"Because he was too powerful to kill," Arvyn replied. "And too dangerous to leave free."
Aurea stepped closer, drawn despite herself. The air around the coffin rippled. Inside, something stirred.
Her father extended a hand. "Together. We reseal him. Or we die trying."
Riven frowned. "I thought you said you were the key."
"I am," Arvyn replied. "But I need her fire to lock the chains. Only the daughter of the Scorching Circle can do it."
Eryan leaned close to Aurea. "He could be lying. This could be a trap."
She looked at him.
"It is a trap," she said. "But I'm not walking into it blind."
She stepped onto the dais. Her glyph ignited, golden and furious.
The coffin shuddered.
Cracks ran through the ice. And from within came a sound—a low, gurgling breath.
The Frostwrought King was waking.
"Now!" Arvyn shouted. "Bind him!"
Aurea raised her hands—and the fire surged.
But so did something else.
Darkness.
A blast of pure frost exploded from the coffin, sending Kael and Eryan flying. Riven caught Aurea as she stumbled back.
A voice—ancient, malevolent, glacial—filled the chamber.
"You dare bind me again?"
The black ice shattered.
A form rose—tall, regal, inhuman.
White skin. Eyes like hollow stars. A crown of frozen thorns.
The Frostwrought King looked down at Aurea.
And smiled.
"Daughter of flame. I've waited a long time for you."