The snowfield had grown silent, silent enough that even the softest breath felt like a trespass. The only sound that remained was the moan of wind that rolled across the endless white. Each gust carried the sting of frozen air that scraped against skin and filled the lungs with bitter cold.
At the field's center, a single tree stood alone, blackened and skeletal, its bark gnarled and twisted. It resembled an old wound cut into the landscape, a scar that never healed. It's bare branches rattled faintly with every gust, shaking like the bones of some half-buried corpse.
Beneath that crooked tree, the Pale Maw dragged itself forward. It's body was a contorted thing, hunched and malformed. Bone pushed against its pallid skin in unnatural angles. It's jaw, long and heavy, scraped along the churned snow with each movement, teeth gnashing together in a rhythm that grated against the ears. Each click was like a hammer on Gray's nerves, steady and relentless, promising hunger that would never end.
Varik continued moving without a word. His boots pressed into the frost, sinking deep, but his presence rose higher than the wind, it was sharp and certain, like a sword drawn from its sheath. Every step seemed heavier than the last, but he never slowed.
Gray's lungs burned just watching him. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and each breath felt as though the cold air had grown denser, as though invisible weight was pushing down on his ribs. His body sagged under the pressure. He leaned without realizing it, steadying himself against Korr, who appeared beside him.
Korr's jaw was tight, the tendons visible beneath his skin. As if he wanted to say something.
Gray however, had no words to speak.
Varik's presence was a storm they could not stand in.
He lifted his greatsword slowly, the broad length of steel held low. The blade was coated in frost, a dull sheen that caught the faintest sunlight. His grip was steady, his posture unshaken, yet his silence spoke louder than any battle cry.
The Pale Maw responded with sound instead. A hiss tore free from its throat, a noise so raw it seemed to scrape like shards of bone against stone.
Then it lunged, the snow exploding beneath it's weight.
The beast closed the distance in a heartbeat, its body nothing but a pale blur of limbs and clawed frenzy. It's blade-arm swept across the snowfield, a scythe meant to sever Varik in two.
Varik raised his weapon in both hands. The greatsword should have been impossibly heavy, broad and thick, meant to be wielded only by two hands. Even among seasoned fighters, such a weapon would be burdensome, slow. Yet when Varik swung, it cut through the air like a strip of silk. His blade moved with speed no eye expected, a crescent blur that caught the Pale Maw's strike and forced the beast to recoil.
The next swing came slower, dragged down with crushing intent. When steel struck the ground, the snowfield erupted. The earth cracked open in a line that spat shards of ice and clumps of snow skyward. The ground shook under the weight of the strike, as though mountains had been piled onto the blade.
One swing was light, as if weightless. The next was heavy, as if no man could lift it.
Gray felt the truth before his mind formed the thought. The air itself trembled as the energy rippled outward. This was not just the greatsword. This was his Vyre, shifting and bending. Varik was not merely wielding his weapon. He was changing it's weight.
'He—he's changing the weight somehow? Is it some sort of special weapon like Lira's?' Ge thought back to her sword which burnt like the sun when Vyre was infused. He remembered the etchings and tried to find them on Varik's greatsword but failed. It looked like an ordinary weapon.
Just then the Pale Maw hissed and struck again, its massive claw sweeping low. Varik did not meet the blow head-on. Instead, he stepped back, planting his boot into the snow with deliberate force. He inhaled, and his shoulders rose. Then he released his power.
The air rippled visibly, as if heat waves had appeared in the middle of the snowfield. A sudden pressure collapsed across the clearing. Gray gasped as his knees buckled beneath the force. His chest locked tight, lungs refusing to draw air. He felt as if the entire sky had pressed itself down upon him.
Beside him, Korr staggered. His eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched, but he forced himself to remain upright. Both of them were on the very edge of the battlefield, yet the weight still pinned them down.
The Pale Maw fared worse. Mid-charge, the beast stumbled violently. Its limbs crashed into the snow, the ground cracking as its own weight crushed it. Its claws dug trenches into the ice, but every movement only pressed it deeper into the earth. Its bones groaned and cracked under its own collapsing body.
Varik advanced with measured calm. His sword came down in one smooth arc. The steel struck the creature's arm, and with the Vyre crushing it, the limb snapped like brittle wood. The pale stump twisted, ichor spraying against the snow. The beast screamed, but the sound was broken, jagged.
With its ruined limb, the Pale Maw wrenched free its own severed hand. Its claws curled around it, and then it hurled the mass of bone and flesh toward Varik in hatred. The severed hand spun like a jagged stone, aimed with uncanny force.
And then...
It dropped.
The moment it left the monster's grasp, it plummeted into the snow. It struck the ground with a heavy crash, sinking into the frost like an anvil hurled from the sky.
Gray's chest tightened. This was no chance misthrow. It was another trick of Varik's, that much he could tell.
The Pale Maw screeched, unhinged jaw snapping wider than any human skull could allow. Its teeth gnashed, foam and ichor spraying in frenzy.
Varik's eyes narrowed. He exhaled, and with the breath, his hand extended again. An almost invisible thread of Vyre shimmered faintly in the air. It slithered forward from his hand, pale and thin like moonlit silk. It coiled around the trunk of the blackened tree behind the Pale Maw. Then, with a sharp jerk, it wrapped tight around the creature's throat.
The monster lurched forward with a violent shriek. The tether pulled taut, snapping its head backward, forcing its neck to bend unnaturally. The bark of the tree groaned, its branches shivering as it leaned, but the tether held fast.
The Pale Maw convulsed in rage. It clawed at its neck, gouging its own pale skin, raking its chest, thrashing against the unseen cord that strangled it. Each attempt only cut deeper into its own flesh. Its shrieks rose higher, echoing like a thousand splintered voices through the field.
Varik's steps did not falter. He pressed forward, each footstep deliberate, crushing the snow flat. It seemed as though the ground itself bowed to him, unwilling to resist.
Gray's voice was barely a whisper. "He is binding it..."
Korr's breath came in heavy fog. His lips parted as if to reply, but no words followed. He could only watch, eyes locked on the shimmering thread of Vyre that pinned the beast in place. The silence between them felt fragile. Neither dared to raise their voice.
The Pale Maw grew weaker with each convulsion. It's claws fell slower. It's shrieks grew ragged and hoarse.
Varik finally reached it. He set his boot firmly against its chest, pressing it into the snow. The weight of him was multiplied by his Vyre. The ground cratered beneath them, as though a mountain had descended onto the creature's body. The Pale Maw writhed, clawing, scraping helplessly, but it could not rise.
For a long breath, Varik stood silent, the greatsword lifted in both hands. His chest heaved, his breath fogged the air, and his eyes never wavered. His voice came quiet and almost tender, audible only because of the stillness.
"Forgive me, Ryn..."
The sword fell.
Steel pierced through pale flesh and bone. The tether yanked tight one final time, snapping the neck into alignment. The monster's last shriek tore through the stillness, a raw and broken sound, then it cut away into silence.
The Pale Maw's body slumped. Its limbs twitched weakly, then stilled.
Varik drew the blade back with measured care. The steel hissed as droplets of corrupted ichor sizzled against the frost. He released his grip on the tether, and the shimmering thread faded into the dark like smoke whisked away by the wind.
'Ryn? Could it be that...' Gray took a deep breath in whilst thinking about the possibilities. Though his chest still ached as if pressed by invisible hands. His arms trembled with the effort. Korr steadied him with a strong grip on his arm, grounding him.
Neither spoke for a long time. The wind's hollow groan returned to fill the silence, carrying away the echo of the monster's death.
At last, Korr's voice came low, subdued. "Weight. He was bending it to his will..."
Gray swallowed hard. His throat was painfully dry. "Not only the blade. But the very air. It must be his affinity..."
Varik said nothing. He wiped his sword clean against the snow, the motion calm, almost reverent. When he finished, he turned away from the corpse without a backward glance. His stride was steady, though his shoulders sagged.
The snowfield remained silent, save for the creaking of the tree in the wind. The night seemed to hold its breath.
Gray and Korr stood frozen, knowing they had witnessed something beyond their comprehension. This was no ordinary battle, no simple victory. It was a glimpse into what it meant to wield Vyre at a level that defied reason.
The truth pressed into their bones. They had seen what power truly looked like.
Varik walked on, and neither boy found the courage to move.