The wind howled louder as Martin crossed a narrow ridge above the clouds. The peak was near and he could feel it.
Beside him, the white wolf padded cautiously through the snow. Its golden eyes swept the path ahead, ears twitching at every sound. Though still limping slightly, it moved with silent grace.
Martin tightened his grip on the wooden rapier. The cold bit through his gloves, but the sword gave him focus.
Then the stillness broke.
A snap of bone echoed across the ridge.
The wolf stopped.
From the far side of a broken cairn, something slithered forward on all fours.
A creature—tall, thin, and wrapped in a rotted cloak made of stitched skin and moss. Its limbs were too long, and its face… once elf, now barely.
The ears were tattered and torn. Its eyes glowed with a sickly green hue, and its jaw was unhinged, drooling frost and spittle.
Strapped to its arms were bone-forged sword. Animal skulls rattled across its chest. Magic shimmered faintly around it's left hand.
A Dwell.
One of the fallen.
A mixture of Sun and Moon elf DNA, but twisted due to the two races genes combating each other. In Ycracuse, it's forbidden for any moon and sun elf to mate with each other. Due to the consequences of creating a Dwell elf.
It screeched, a mixture of scream and a growl before lunging forward.
Martin rolled aside just as the bone sword sliced past him, leaving a white arc in the air.
The wolf leapt with a snarl, sinking its teeth into the Dwell's shoulder. The monster shrieked and slammed the beast to the ground, then spun with unnatural speed, casting a blast of shards of ice.
Martin entered his defensive stance and begun slash the shards with fast precision with his wooden rapier.
"Fast. Strong. Unpredictable," Martin whispered, heart pounding.
Once all the shards were gone, he lunged in with a feint, sweeping his blade across the creature's side—but the Dwell bent backward, body cracking unnaturally, and slashed at Martin's arm.
Pain.
The rapier clattered to the ground.
The Dwell grinned, drool dripping.
Martin fell back on the ground, grabbing a ball of snow from the ground, and tossed it at the Dwell face causing it to stagger back.
Martin then sharpen his right hand muscles to make his hand into a makeshift blade.
Immediately he struck it's left shoulder which caused the Dwells left arm to go limb.
The wolf struck again—this time aiming for the Dwell's leg. It latched on, pulling the beast off balance just long enough for Martin to reach his rapier, and stab upward into the monster's chest.
The Dwell shrieked.
It convulsed, limbs flailing, before stumbling back.
Then—its magic surged.
A final, desperate explosion of frost and wind blasted out around it.
Martin threw his cloak around the wolf and braced.
The storm passed.
And when the snow settled… the Dwell lay broken.
Its body hissed with fading frost, half-buried in a snowbank. The glow in its eyes dimmed, then vanished.
---
Martin stood in silence, breathing hard.
His wrist hurt from sharpening his muscle for the first time in weeks, but he was alive.
"I'm getting rusty, I should practice that technique once I get back home." he muttered to himself.
The wolf limped to his side, brushing against him. Martin placed a hand on its fur.
"Thanks."
The wolf lick his hand and playfully bit his hand.
He turned to look at the broken shrine behind them. Faint lights pulsed within the ice. This place was sacred once… before the Dwells began to haunt it.
He bowed slightly to the ruin and pressed forward.
---
By the time they reached the next ridge, the sun was beginning to rise, casting a red glow across the mountainside.
Ahead, the final climb loomed—a stair of frozen stone and ancient carvings leading to the summit.
Martin looked to the wolf.
It met his gaze.
Together, they climbed.
The Throne awaited.
So did the truth.
And his father's final gift.