Groooan… crack… The chapel's broken doors resisted before giving way. Snow spilled inside like an uninvited guest, snuffing out the faint warmth of Sera's light.
They stepped out together.
The wind hit immediately—sharp, searching, as if the realm itself resented their alliance. Leon pulled his hood lower; Sera drew hers tighter, pale sand-colored fabric whitening with fresh flakes. Side by side, they looked like mismatched ghosts: one cloaked in night, the other in fading daylight.
Snap… thud… Behind them, the chapel sighed. Roof beams cracked under new weight. There would be no going back.
"Which way?" Sera asked.
Leon pointed toward the distant palace. Broken spires clawed at the indigo sky, pale light pulsing at the heart like a dying star.
"That way," he said. "Before whatever's waking up decides to come find us."
Crunch… crunch… They started walking.
The outer ruins stretched wide—broad boulevards choked with drifted snow, lined by petrified remains of market stalls. Merchants frozen behind counters of black ice, hands outstretched with wares that would never be sold: frozen jewels, bolts of cloth stiff as boards, loaves turned to stone. Faces twisted in final surprise.
Sera paused at one stall. A child's wooden horse lay in the snow, one leg missing. She brushed it gently, then set it back.
"My brother had one like this," she said softly. "Before the wraiths came."
Leon didn't ask. The hollow note in her voice said enough. Comfort was a luxury neither could afford. "We should look for anything useful."
Scrape… clang… They found little: a frozen waterskin, a small bone-handled knife for Sera, strips of cloth for bandages. In a half-buried temple sacristy, rations—hard cakes preserved perfectly by the cold. They ate one each, tasting nothing, but the stomach filled.
Conversation came in fragments, offered like rations.
"You always lived in the outer districts?" Sera asked.
"Always," Leon said. "Basement under a laundry block. Shared with whoever hadn't frozen yet."
She nodded. After a pause: "I was inner ring. Until I wasn't."
He glanced at her. "Family?"
"Gone."
"You?"
"Same."
They left it there.
Fshhh… Leon tested the locket. Shadows stretched farther, responding to both of them. Once, he cloaked them in darkness—dozen heartbeats vanished from the world's sight. The strain left him colder inside, another faint memory slipping—Kell's laugh, maybe—but it worked.
Sera's light, in turn, warmed the space between them. Not much, but enough that breath no longer froze instantly. Where shadows and light touched, colors sharpened; the realm paused, observing.
"Yours feeds on sorrow," she said after the third time. "Mine on hope. Funny, isn't it?"
He grunted. "Hilarious."
Howwwl… whiiish…
The streets gave way to a vast plaza. Chains thicker than a man's torso hung from the sky, disappearing into the auroras above. Links snapped, ends trailing in snow like tentacles of a fallen leviathan.
In the center, a frozen army—thousands of soldiers mid-charge, mouths open in silent screams, weapons raised forever.
Leon and Sera picked their way through statues. Faces too real.
Whoooosh… howl… A blizzard rose, howling like punishment. Visibility dropped to arm's length. Sera's light glowed dim; Leon's shadows shielded them from the worst gusts.
Low moan…
The Mourning Herd.
Shapes emerged—ethereal stags with antlers of broken ice, wolves formed from swirling snow, eyes pale sorrow. They moved as one, driven by whispers older than the kingdom.
Leon pulled Sera into the lee of a frozen chariot. "Stay low."
He melted into shadow, vanishing.
Fshhh… crack… Tendrils lashed legs, dragging beasts into deeper gloom. Sera's illusions multiplied—phantom selves running, golden lights flickering like will-o'-wisps.
A stag charged. Sera's hand flared; warm light burned the creature away. Golden blood traced from her nostrils, freezing on her chin like jewelry.
Leon reappeared beside her, sword buried in a snow-wolf's flank. The beast dissolved with a sigh… fshhh…
The last echo faded. Blizzard eased. They stood amid drifting flakes, breathing hard.
Sera swayed. Leon caught her arm.
"I'm fine," she said, leaning anyway.
Half-buried watchtower offered shelter. Inside, wind became whisper. They sat, sharing the last hard cakes.
Sera bandaged a fresh cut on his forearm. "You're getting empty inside," she said quietly.
Leon looked away. "Better empty than dead."
"Is it?" No answer.
Crunch… Movement caught his eye.
Far below, a lone figure crossed the plaza. White hair, dark cloak, sword dragging red furrow through snow. Fighting a massive Echo knight—ten feet tall, frost-rimed plate. Each swing sent frozen blood arcing like rubies. Laughter carried clear across distance.
Eirik…
The knight fell; the man's eyes found the tower. Boots crunch… crunch… on stairs.
Eirik stepped in, sword resting on shoulder, cloak steaming with melt. "Well, well," he grinned. "Fresh awakeners playing at alliance. Adorable."
Leon rose, shadows coiling. Sera followed, light flickering.
"Name's Eirik," the man continued. "Third Ordeal for me. Aspect of Blood and Fury. You?"
"Leon."
"Sera."
Eirik's gaze lingered. "Pretty light you've got there. Warm. Dangerous to carry."
Sera met his eyes steadily. Leon stepped forward.
Eirik chuckled. "Relax, shade-boy. Not here to steal your lantern. Yet. Palace is waking. Saint's weeping. More blades mean more fun. Temporary truce?"
Leon didn't answer. Shadows deepened around his hands.
Eirik shrugged. "Suit yourselves. But that mist behind you? Doesn't care about pride."
He turned, footsteps echo… echo… down stairs.
Through the arrow slit, black mist poured from plaza fissure. Tendrils reached like fingers. Touching frozen statues, cracks spread, faces crumbled.
DONG… DONG… DONG… Seven bells tolled, shaking tower to its stones.
The voice spoke—cold, ancient:
The Saint weeps for the lost king.
Enter before the final toll, or join the eternal mourning.
Eirik's laughter echoed, sprinting toward distant gates.
Sera looked at Leon. "We can't stay here."
He nodded once.
Crunch… crunch… They descended stairs, running.
The palace loomed—black walls veined with white, gates yawning like a mouth. Snow poured through the breach. Behind, black mist pursued, slow but relentless, devouring the world.
Auroras twisted overhead into a shattered crown.
Palace gates stood open, waiting.
From within came the sound of distant, endless crying.