The wind howled across the cliffside, biting through Gray's coat as he and Lira stood at the back of the truck, staring in the direction of the black tower. It loomed like a monument to something long forgotten, a jagged monolith rising from the frost-bitten landscape. Its edges were sharp and seamless, its peak vanishing into the swirling mist above. A faint, unnatural pulse flickered near its summit, barely visible through the thick air.
Lira folded her arms, her eyes narrowed. "We should not go near it."
Korr stood behind her, one hand resting lazily on the hilt of his massive blade. "Nothing good ever comes from places built to look like that."
The rank six and seven students nodded in agreement, still recovering from the Frostmane encounter. Their bodies were weak, their minds shaken. The tower felt wrong, and they didn't want to admit just how much it frightened them.
Adel stepped forward, her eyes defiant. "You are all too scared. We came out here to survive, yes, but also to uncover the unknown. That tower is ancient. It could hold something valuable. Maybe something useful."
Gray didn't speak right away. The icy wind carried a weight that pressed into his skin, and that weight pulled at something deep inside his bones. He couldn't explain it, but the tower called to him. Not like a voice, not like a dream, but like a place he had once seen long ago, in another life or another time.
"I'll go," he said at last.
Lira snapped her head toward him. "Absolutely not."
Gray's eyes remained on the tower. "It won't be all of us. Just me. You can watch from here. If I don't come back in thirty minutes, then leave."
Korr scoffed. "You're insane."
"Or maybe brave," Adel added.
Lira's mouth twitched, caught between protest and restraint. Finally, she exhaled through her nose and nodded. "Thirty minutes. Not a second more." She pointed at her wristband. The time was 15:25.
Gray left the truck swiftly without saying a word. He sneakily climbed over the avalanche and began his descent. His boots pressing down into the dense snow. Every step seemed heavier than the last, as if the ground itself wanted to hold him in place. The cold deepened as he moved forward. The wind did not howl. It whispered.
'It's so much colder here, I better get there in time.'
The snowbanks were strange here. Sculpted, almost. Curved in unnatural ways. Gray passed by frozen shapes buried in the snow, fragments of twisted metal, half-buried satchels, the remnants of tools whose handles were long eroded. Something had happened here. Something old.
He did not stop.
The tower loomed larger with every step. Its surface was unlike stone. Smooth like obsidian, yet pulsing faintly with light. The tower had no windows, no markings save for the great door at its base. And that door was sealed shut, circular engravings flowing like water across its face.
Gray moved to push it. It didn't budge. He pressed harder, pulled at the edges. Still nothing.
"Dammit, move for God's sake!" His voice came out raspy.
Then the pressure hit him.
His legs buckled slightly as his thoughts turned sluggish. His fingers stiffened, and his heart slowed. Then he remembered it.
"Frost claims the weak."
He dropped to one knee. His vision dimmed. The cold wasn't just around him, it was inside him. Creeping through his mind like roots.
[WARNING: CORE TEMPRETURE FALLING!
THOUGHTS DEGRADING
SOUL STABILITY COMPROMISED
EXPOSURE TO GLACIERFANGS CHILL MAY LEAD TO TOTAL SYSTEM FAILURE. SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY!]
He smiled weakly.
"Im not weak...and i refused to be!" He gritted his teeth and tried one last trick.
He quickly reached inward and channeled Vyre. A thread of warmth surged through his body. The fog in his thoughts lifted slightly. His muscles responded again.
As he steadied himself, he saw it, the circular indentations on the door glowed softly. Twin handprints etched into the metal pulsed in response to his Vyre.
Without a second thought, Gray placed his hands on them. The metal resisted at first, like the tower itself was reluctant. Then he directed his Vyre forward, letting it flow through his fingers and into the carved shapes.
The door glowed brighter.
A soft rumble echoed through the air.
And with a hiss, the door creaked open.
Warmth poured out from within, unnatural and dense. He slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind him.
He instantly felt his thoughts clear up. Aswell as his Vyre vains. Which had almost frozen entirely.
The interior was small, yet layered in mystery. Shelves lined the walls, stacked high with ancient books and scrolls. Crystals floated in mid-air, suspended by invisible forces. Glowing lines curved along the stone floor like veins of molten silver, casting faint golden light across the room.
Everything was coated in frost.
He reached for a book at random and opened it. The symbols were jagged, chaotic. A language he had never seen before. The pages shimmered like they were dipped in moonlight, resisting his gaze the longer he stared.
He ascended the spiral staircase toward the upper floor. The climb felt timeless. No sound followed him but his breath and the occasional hum from the tower itself.
At the top, he found a wide chamber. Its center held a circular stone table. Upon it lay a single ornate scroll, a sheathed weapon, and a sealed chest with frozen hinges. A figure sat slumped in a tall chair beside the table.
A skeleton.
Draped in robes of deep blue and tarnished gold, embroidered with symbols that flickered faintly. Its posture was still composed, hands clasped neatly on its lap. Its empty sockets stared toward the window.
Gray approached the scroll first.
The moment his fingers touched it, a pulse shot through the air. He unrolled it, and everything inside him exploded.
Pain roared through his skull. His eyes burned. Not like fire. Like ice driving nails into his mind.
He screamed as loud as he could, but all that came out was a muffled gasp.
He fell to the floor, gasping, clutching at his temples. His vision flickered, warped symbols burned themselves into his memory. He could not understand them, yet he absorbed them. A word, etched into his mind.
Frozen Veins.
His breath returned.
The pain stopped.
He slowly got back to his feet, slowly. He did not understand what had happened, but he knew something had changed. There was a new rhythm inside him. Something cold, steady, waiting.
"What... what the hell was that?"
He was about to open his system when he realized that he didn't have time. Glancing down at his wristband, it displayed the time. 15:40 PM. He had wasted 15 minutes getting here already and he couldn't waste anymore.
He turned to the weapon next. A short sword, pale silver in color. The blade had etchings running across it, spirals and curling frost marks that shimmered faintly. The handle was wrapped in soft cloth that had nearly frayed away with time.
He picked it up and put it on his back.
It felt light. Balanced. Not meant for him.
"Perhaps Lira will like it."
Finally, he approached the figure in the chair and gently lifted the journal lying beside it. The first few pages were blank, faded from time. Then came one line, scrawled in frantic ink:
"Do not look behind you."
The tower rumbled.
A deep vibration passed through the floor.
Gray remained still. His breath silent.
A mirror leaned against the far wall, cracked at the edges.
He turned slowly just enough to see the reflection.
An enormous yellow eye stared at him through the frost-covered upper window.
Pale skin stretched over frozen bone. Horns of jagged black ice spiraled outward from its crown. Its face was half-sunken into the snow behind the tower, as if it had been buried for centuries. Not to mention its towering size.
The eye blinked once. Sending chills down Gray's spine.
'What-what the hell is that!' His mind was screaming for him to move. To run. But he refused. His instincts told him running would only lead to death. And not a painless one.
Then the mirror cracked.
Gray refused to breathe. His body drenched in sweat. At some point tears had formed at the corners of his eye.
"Fuck." He couldn't help but whisper.
'Im so dead.'