Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The snow under Rivan's boots groaned with every step as the trio crossed into Icevale. The air was biting, filled with a frost so pure it glittered like diamonds. Trees stood tall like silent sentinels, their branches white with heavy snow.
Rivan exhaled, watching his breath fog and fade.
"Ugh... remind me why we came here," Kael muttered, shivering beneath his thick fur cloak.
"To find the Oathblade," Seris answered, her voice calm, her footsteps sure. "And the Guardian of Ice."
"Oathblade…" Rivan murmured, pulling his cloak tighter. "The sword said to cut through lies, pierce shadows, and judge one's soul."
Seris nodded. "And only the worthy may draw it."
Rivan's gaze darkened. "Then I'll make myself worthy."
The Gate of Blades
By noon, they reached a massive wall of ice embedded into the mountain's base—twisted blades of iron and frost pierced through its surface like frozen bones.
Seris stepped forward and raised her hand. Wind spun from her palm into a circle, revealing a sigil hidden in the ice.
Vhhhhmm…
The wall groaned and slowly opened, revealing a cold, dim path lit by glacial crystals.
Kael whistled. "Well, that's not ominous at all."
Rivan smiled faintly. "It's never easy, is it?"
They stepped inside.
Trial of Silence
Inside the mountain, the world changed.
No sound.
No wind.
No echo.
Just silence.
Their footsteps made no noise. Even breath felt... muted.
Rivan frowned. "Something's wrong—"
SHHHH.
A whisper slithered across his mind.
"Do not speak."
Kael mouthed words in confusion, but no sound emerged.
Suddenly, the path split into three.
Rivan turned to Seris—but she was gone.
So was Kael.
"Damn it—"
SHHHHHHH!
Pain stabbed into Rivan's skull. He fell to his knees, clutching his head.
Then... silence again.
He looked around.
Only one path remained.
He followed it.
The Hall of Reflections
The tunnel opened into a wide circular chamber of mirrors—tall, ancient, misted with frost.
As Rivan entered, the torches lit on their own.
Fwoof. Fwoof. Fwoof.
The mirrors shimmered... and then shifted.
Dozens of Rivans stared back at him—each with different faces.
One snarled, black flames in his eyes.
One wept, his body scorched and broken.
One laughed maniacally—"Hahaha! Look at you... still pretending to be a hero!"
Rivan backed away. "No. These aren't me…"
The laughing Rivan stepped out of the mirror.
"What if they are?"
CRACK!
Another stepped out—this one wearing the Ash King's crown.
"Don't you feel it?" the crowned Rivan whispered. "The rage... the hunger... the fire under your skin."
Rivan's gauntlet burned hot.
Fssshhh...
"Shut up," he growled.
The Ash King-Rivan smiled. "You fear becoming me. But you already are me."
Rivan drew his dagger. "I will never be you."
"Hah! Tsk tsk tsk... That's what he said once too."
He lunged.
Battle of the Self
Steel met steel.
Flame met flame.
Rivan fought his doppelgangers in silence, each movement echoing only in his heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He ducked under a swing, elbowed the weeping Rivan aside, and clashed blades with the Ash King-Rivan.
"You're strong," the Ash King sneered, "but you're not whole."
Rivan roared—"RAAAAHHH!"—and drove fire into his blade.
BOOOM!
The Ash King-Rivan shattered into smoke and embers.
The mirrors cracked, one by one.
And in the center of the room, a sword appeared—pure white steel, etched with blue frost and runes glowing like fireflies.
Rivan approached.
The Oathblade.
He gripped the hilt.
The blade pulsed.
"Will you bear truth, even if it destroys you?"
Rivan exhaled. "Yes."
The sword slid free.
No resistance.
It was his.
Reunion
As he exited the chamber, he found Kael and Seris waiting, eyes wide.
"You're alive!" Kael cried.
Rivan nodded, raising the sword. "And I'm not alone anymore."
Seris looked at the blade. "You passed."
Kael smirked. "About time we had a shiny magic weapon."
Rivan chuckled. "Don't get too jealous."
They stepped out into the open snow again, light warming the air slightly.
But then...
BOOM!
A ripple tore through the sky. A deep roar echoed across the valley.
They turned.
In the distance, a tower of black fire rose.
Seris paled. "That's the Frost Monastery."
Kael cursed. "Ashborn?"
Rivan's grip tightened on the Oathblade. "We go. Now."
Frost Monastery – The Siege
By the time they arrived, the monastery was in flames.
Frost monks in white robes fought desperately against a horde of Ashborn—warriors cloaked in fire and smoke.
Explosions echoed.
KRAKOOM!
"Get down!" Kael shouted as a blast shattered a nearby spire.
Rivan didn't stop.
He leapt into the fray, Oathblade singing through the air.
SHHHING!
Ashborn fell in streaks of flame and steel.
Seris summoned whirlwinds to smother fires.
Kael provided cover, arrows slicing through enemies.
Among the chaos, a scream cut through:
"Help! Please—!"
Rivan turned to see a young monk cornered by an Ashborn brute.
Without thinking, he charged.
"HEY!"
The brute turned.
Too late.
CLANG!
The Oathblade struck true.
The brute collapsed, crumbling into ash.
The young monk sobbed. "Th-thank you…"
Rivan nodded. "Find shelter. Go!"
The monk ran.
The Ashborn Commander
A new enemy descended from the sky—massive, cloaked in volcanic armor, eyes like molten gold.
"Flame Heir," the commander sneered.
"You know me?" Rivan growled.
"We know all threats," the commander hissed, drawing two scimitars of obsidian.
Rivan raised the Oathblade.
"Then let's dance."
CLAAANG!
They clashed, sending sparks and embers into the sky.
Rivan ducked under a swipe, slashed low—missed.
The commander countered, cutting Rivan's side.
"Ahhh—!"
Blood splashed the snow.
Seris screamed. "Rivan!"
But he stood firm, fire leaking from his wound.
The Oathblade blazed, burning brighter than ever.
"I am fire." Rivan whispered.
He spun.
SHHRRAAAK!
His blade cut through both scimitars—then through the commander.
A burst of fire and smoke.
And then, silence.
The commander was gone.
Ashes and Answers
After the battle, the monks tended to the wounded.
The monastery was damaged—but not lost.
Rivan sat beside a brazier, bandaging his wound.
Kael approached, tossing him a flask. "You alright?"
"I'll live."
Seris joined them. "You're stronger with the blade. But also... different."
Rivan stared into the flames.
"I saw myself. A thousand versions. Some I never want to become."
Kael nodded. "But you didn't."
"No," Rivan said. "Not yet."
He stood.
"There's one more thing the Guardian told me. The Oathblade points to what's hidden."
He held it up.
It pulsed.
Toward the north.
Toward the Shadowlands.
Seris frowned. "You want to follow it?"
Rivan nodded. "Yes. I need to know what the Ash King fears enough to keep buried."
Kael groaned. "Of course it's the Shadowlands."
Seris sighed. "Then let's pack."
That night, under a sky lit by cold stars, Rivan stood atop the monastery's tower.
The Oathblade rested at his side.
His fire burned low but steady.
And somewhere far beyond the horizon, the Ash King smiled in the dark.
To be continued...