Preparation and Nightfall
A heavy stillness had settled over the mining village of Thornhollow as dusk stretched its long fingers across rooftops frosted in snow. Firelight glimmered in shuttered windows, and the faint howl of wind threaded through the pine trees that ringed the edge of town.
In the Flickering Hearth Inn, the four adventurers sat around a low wooden table. A map of the village and the surrounding region lay spread out beneath a dim lantern.
"This is where the entrance opened up," Rusk said, tapping a marked point just beyond the village. "East slope of the old quarry. Snow melted early this season. Orlen says the ground caved in and revealed a new passage. They didn't dig it."
Kaela's brow furrowed. "Old tunnels reopening on their own is never a good sign."
"Especially when the bodies started disappearing right after," Teren added. His voice was low and tight.
Alaric leaned forward. "We go in tonight."
Kaela glanced at him. "You sure?"
He nodded. "We're not going to find anything in daylight. Whatever's lurking in that quarry… it hunts in the dark."
There was a silence. Then Kaela stood. "Alright. Then we do this right."
They equipped themselves with practiced ease:
Alaric, calm and focused, strapped on his sword and donned his dark coat.
Kaela adjusted her enchanted leather armor and slung her longsword over her back.
Rusk, always battle-ready, checked his collapsible spear and fire powder vials.
Teren examined the frost-tipped arrows in his quiver and strapped a short dagger to his thigh.
The innkeeper approached quietly, holding four vials of shimmering liquid. "Blessing oil," she said. "For weapons. If it bleeds, fine. If it doesn't… this might still help."
"Thank you," Alaric said, taking the vial and bowing slightly.
"Be careful," the woman added. "That mine's been dead for years. If something's woken it up… it's not meant to be disturbed."
Descent into the Quarry
The quarry loomed in silence beneath a clouded moon.
Its eastern slope gaped like a wound torn in the earth, surrounded by warped wooden fences and abandoned mining equipment. Snow blanketed the entrance, but there were signs of disturbance—tracks, claw marks, and a scent in the air like frozen rot.
Kaela drew her blade. "Form tight. Eyes on every side."
They stepped inside.
The passage was narrow and steep, with walls carved unevenly and wood beams long since rotted. The air grew colder with each step. Every footfall echoed unnaturally, as if something beneath the stone was listening.
Half a kilometer in, the tunnel widened into a small chamber.
That's where they saw them.
Three forms floated in the darkness—wrapped in decayed robes that shifted like torn sails underwater. Their faces were skull-like and frozen, with jagged icicle fangs and hollow, glowing eyes. Cold mist clung to the floor where they hovered.
"Frostbound Shades," Teren whispered.
Before another word could be said, the Shades shrieked—a soundless cry that echoed through their bones.
The temperature plunged.
First Clash — Frostbound Shades
"Split formation!" Alaric shouted.
Kaela lunged first, her sword arcing as it glowed faintly with holy oil. She struck one Shade across the chest—only to be met with a wall of resistance. The blade scraped through mist and frost but didn't cut deep.
Rusk followed, using his spear to deflect an icy claw from another. "They're light—watch your balance!"
Teren rolled back, loosing an arrow into the eye socket of the third Shade. It hissed but didn't falter.
"Holy oil helps, but not enough!" he called.
Kaela's Shade slashed back. Its claw caught her shoulder—her armor saved her, but ice crawled across her pauldron. She winced, stumbling backward.
Rusk landed a Flame Spiral Thrust, flames lancing through the mist and forcing one Shade back. But it recovered quickly, diving low and slashing upward with a howl of cold wind.
Alaric parried a strike from his own opponent. It passed through his sword and reformed behind him. He spun—but too late. The creature slashed his back, drawing shallow blood.
Kaela threw herself between him and the follow-up attack, blocking with her bracer. "Watch your flank!"
"Thanks!" Alaric growled, recovering.
Teren's next arrow hit true—coated in blessed oil, it drove through one Shade's face, splitting it apart into shards of glittering ice.
"One down!" he shouted.
The remaining two Shades hissed in unison and surged forward, striking faster, colder, sharper.
Alaric's Awakening
Kaela clashed with her Shade, her sword frozen near the hilt. She broke away, breathing heavily, eyes darting.
Rusk took a blow to the side and went down to one knee, growling. He retaliated with a Fire Slam—point-blank fire powder ignited in the Shade's face. It staggered, screeching.
Teren's bow was frostbitten, and his fingers bled.
Then the remaining Shade fixed its eyes on Alaric.
It charged.
Alaric raised his sword—but he knew he was too slow.
The world slowed.
In that split second, something within him cracked.
Not broke—opened.
The shadows twisted. The torchlight dimmed. Alaric stepped aside—not physically, but through the dark.
He vanished.
Reappeared behind the Shade.
His sword slashed through its back. Shadows curled along the blade's edge.
"Shadow Step," he whispered, breathless.
A tendril of darkness lashed from his hand, coiling around the Shade's leg and pulling it to the ground.
Kaela tossed him a dagger. "Now!"
Alaric stabbed down, both blades piercing the creature's chest. It shattered in silence.
One left.
Finishing the Fight
All four regrouped.
Teren bleeding. Kaela bruised. Rusk panting. Alaric glowing faintly with a veil of darkness.
The last Shade screamed and surged.
Together, they fought:
Kaela parried and slashed.
Rusk struck with his flaming spear.
Teren fired his final blessed arrow.
Alaric warped behind the Shade, cutting it open with a shadow-cloaked strike.
It shattered like ice dropped from a tower.
Silence returned.
They leaned on one another, breathing heavily.
Kaela looked at Alaric. "What… was that?"
"I don't know," he said, voice quiet. "But it felt right."
Shrine of the Forgotten Flame
The passage sloped again, deeper this time. Walls turned smooth and circular. Carvings emerged—ancient, curved symbols spiraling toward a destination.
They reached a vast stone chamber.
A ruined shrine stood in the center, flanked by broken pillars and bone-chained braziers. The altar glowed faintly blue beneath a layer of frost. Chains lay broken across it.
From behind the altar, a figure rose.
Tall. Armored in ice and black bone. A horned helm covered its face. Blue light bled from its eyes.
The Frostbound Wraith.
"You carry the Flame's Echo," it said, voice like grinding glaciers. "You will not leave."
Cold exploded outward.
Final Battle — Frostbound Wraith
Spears of ice erupted from the ground. Teren dove. Kaela blocked one with her sword, the impact shattering her weapon. Rusk was grazed, his leg bleeding.
Alaric dodged using Shadow Step, flanking the Wraith and slashing at its back.
It turned and countered with a two-handed glaive, nearly slicing him in half. He ducked and vanished again.
Kaela and Rusk attacked together—Kaela using her broken hilt to distract while Rusk lunged with fire-enhanced thrusts.
Teren provided support—his arrows distracting, redirecting attention.
But the Wraith unleashed Frozen Malice, a blizzard shockwave that knocked them all down.
"We can't beat it like this!" Kaela shouted, clutching her ribs.
"Yes, we can," Alaric said, rising. His shadow pulsed. "Together."
They attacked again—coordinated:
Kaela drew a dagger and slashed the Wraith's leg.
Rusk drove his spear into its shoulder, holding it.
Teren fired an arrow into its eye.
Alaric closed his eyes. He felt the shadows around him.
Then he moved.
"Dark Spiral!"
He appeared behind the Wraith and spun—his sword cloaked in swirling darkness, cutting upward through its chest.
The Wraith screamed.
Its armor cracked.
Its glaive fell.
And its body crumbled into icy shards, swallowed by the frost.
Aftermath
The shrine fell still.
The frost receded. The air warmed.
They stood—barely.
Kaela helped Teren up. Rusk leaned on his spear. Alaric stared at the cracked altar.
"That wasn't just a monster," Kaela said.
"No," Alaric replied. "That was something ancient."
A memory stirred in his chest—the Equinox Flame, flickering faintly. He didn't understand it yet.
But one day… he would.
They turned and left the mine behind.
Alaric stepped into the moonlight—changed.
He had found power.
And with it… a path forward.