Gray, Renn, and Aurelle descended deeper into the cold.
The tunnel narrowed as they went, its walls slick with frost that caught the dim light and scattered it in fractured glints. Water pooled shallow along the floor, dark and glassy, disturbed only by the careful rhythm of their boots. Every splash, no matter how small, seemed to cut through the silence like a blade.
Gray's eyes fixed on Aurelle's back. The swordsman moved with a pace that was neither rushed nor hesitant, every step measured, steady, unshaken by the frozen ground beneath them. Even the rise and fall of his shoulders seemed controlled. Gray clenched his jaw. He could still see the memory of Aurelle's sword flashing during the fight, each strike perfect, without waste. It wasn't the skill of someone trained for decades, it was cleaner, sharper, older. Like the blade moved on instinct honed beyond what a man should carry.
Gray exhaled once, the cold burning his throat. No wonder I lost to him back then. He forced the thought down and glanced back instead.
Renn trailed a few steps behind, his breath fogging out in ragged bursts. The boy's shoulders sagged with exhaustion, this was one of the first times he had channeled Vyre to his full extent. Yet his eyes still burned with the same restless determination, his steps stumbled now and then, but he kept pace. Gray remembered how Renn's hands had glowed with Mind during the fight, how impossible it had seemed, and yet, the boy had done it. He had pulled Gray back from the edge, and it had won them the fight.
Gray's grip tightened briefly on his sword hilt, leather creaking faintly under his glove. He qa thankful of Renn, but it made him uneasy to see him fight. He felt like Renn wasn't built for fighting, but for something else entirely.
'Not even I was built to be a fighter...just as survivor.' He continued walking quietly.
The tunnel sloped downward, and with each step the air sharpened, cutting colder until every breath stung in their lungs. A pale fog gathered along the ground, replacing the shallow water. It was thin at first, curling lazily between their boots like smoke from an unseen fire, but with each step it thickened. Clinging to them, tugging at their legs with a damp chill that seemed to seep through cloth and skin alike.
Gray slowed, unease prickling across his skin. The whiteness reminded him too much of the shack from the day before, the same creeping fog that had lapped at his ankles like a living thing. He shook the memory away, but the thought clung to him as they pressed forward.
The passage opened into one chamber after another, small and empty. Jagged ice jutted from the walls in cruel spikes, their surfaces clouded and opaque. Frost webbed across the ceilings, sagging with the weight of long centuries. Each chamber was silent, lifeless, as though even sound feared to linger here. Hope thinned with every doorway they crossed, each hollow room promising nothing but more cold.
Then the tunnel widened suddenly, spilling them into a cavern larger than the rest.
The ceiling stretched impossibly high above, shadows swallowing its peak. The walls curved outward, vanishing into darkness where the torchlight failed. The fog was thicker here, heavy enough to curl across the floor in shifting tides. It moved with an eerie patience, pooling across the chamber as if it were alive.
Shapes broke the surface of the fog. Gray squinted, then froze.
Bodies. Dozens of them. Human and not. Their outlines littered the chamber like discarded toys, half-submerged in the pale haze. Some lay collapsed mid-stride, their arms outstretched as though reaching for escape. Others twisted where they had fallen, their limbs bent at angles too sharp, faces frozen in masks of terror or shock. Their skin had gone rigid and pale, their eyes glassy and lifeless. Frost clung to lashes and brows, sealing them in silence forever.
Gray's throat went dry. His stomach knotted as bile threatened. He took a single step back. "Dead end," he muttered, forcing his voice steady. "We'll have to find another way."
He turned toward Aurelle, expecting him to agree. But the swordsman didn't move. His eyes were locked on the far end of the chamber, his face unreadable, gaze fixed where the fog seemed to grow thickest near the corner.
Gray frowned and stepped forward, following his line of sight. The chamber narrowed again into stone steps, winding downward into shadow. Renn was already a few paces ahead, but he wasn't moving. His posture was wrong, too stiff, too rigid. His arms hung slightly away from his sides, frozen mid-motion.
"Renn?" Gray called.
The boy didn't answer. His head shifted slightly, chin trembling, and he lifted one hand. The fingers shook as he pointed downward, to the steps at his feet.
Gray closed the gap quickly, unease crawling down his spine. He looked past Renn, and his gut churned.
The stairs didn't continue. They ended abruptly, cut as clean as if sliced away. Beyond them yawned an abyss, wide and endless, a void that swallowed all light. The fog curled upward from below, streaming into the chamber like smoke from some vast furnace hidden beneath the world. Renn crouched near the edge, leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the depths. Gray leaned with him and instantly regretted it. The sheer drop stretched so far down it made his vision blur, his balance reel.
The thought came unbidden, heavy in his gut. If the missing chambers were down there, clinging to the sides of this void, they'd never reach them. No rope, no climb. Nothing.
"Over here," Aurelle's voice called from across the chamber.
Gray tore himself away from the sight and stepped carefully back from the ledge, boots scraping against frozen stone. He crossed quickly to where Aurelle stood, keeping his voice low. "What...should we do?"
Aurelle's gaze swept the chamber slowly, his expression unchanged. "I can sense it," he said. "Human Vyre. There's a trace down here."
Gray blinked, thrown by the certainty in his tone. "How can you—"
"Doesn't matter," Renn cut in, his voice tight. His eyes never left the abyss. "How do we cross?"
Aurelle turned his head slightly toward him. "We don't walk across."
He tugged at the hem of his cloak, tearing free a strip of fabric. He held it lightly between two fingers, then let it fall. They all watched as it drifted downward in a lazy spiral, swaying as it sank. For a moment it looked harmless, delicate. But as soon as the cloth brushed the fog—
It froze solid. No sound, no warning. One instant cloth, the next, brittle shards of ice tumbling apart as they scattered into the abyss.
A chill clawed up Gray's spine. He flexed his hand, picturing skin instead of cloth, flesh shattering just as easily. His fingers curled into a fist, relief prickling sharp in his chest.
Renn's jaw tightened as he whispered, "It must be filled with Vyre. That's why it freezes everything."
Gray shook his head slightly. "Fog? Holding Vyre?"
"I'm not sure..." Renn admitted, his voice strained. His breath came fast, fogging before his face.
They fell into silence, staring at the abyss. The stillness pressed heavier with every second. No bridge, no way around. The chamber was a trap.
Gray's eyes swept the walls, searching desperately. The jagged ice reflected fragments of torchlight, cold and impassive. He nearly turned back in defeat, until something glinted differently from the rest.
Set into the wall, half-buried in frost, was a crystal. Its surface gleamed faintly, smoother than ice, edges too precise to be natural. It wasn't like the chaotic shards around it. It looked… placed. Deliberate, like some fragment of an altar long forgotten.
Gray's heart kicked in his chest. He knew that glow. He'd seen it before—in the tower, and later in the trunk. The same quiet pulse of Vyre. He had carried it, felt it. This was the same.
He slid his katana from its sheath.
Aurelle's eyes shifted, narrowing. "What are you doing?"
Gray flipped the weapon in his hand, reversing the grip until the blade pointed back like a spear. His smirk was faint but certain. "Trust me. I've got this."
He drew a slow breath, steadying his arm. One chance. Miss, and the abyss claimed his blade forever.
Vyre tingled faintly at his core, stirring into his muscles, tightening them with unnatural force. He hurled the katana with every ounce of precision.
It whistled through the chamber, the sound crisp and sharp, before striking the crystal with a resounding crack.
Light fractured instantly. A sharp glow burst outward, and the fog screamed as if it had a voice, twisting violently as it tore apart. Streams of white whipped and scattered, unraveling in wild threads. In seconds, the choking weight lifted, thinning until only scraps of mist clung to the air.
Gray strode forward without pause, his boots ringing against the stone. The katana jutted from the fractured crystal, its blade sunk deep. He grasped the hilt firmly, wrenching it free. With one smooth motion, he slid it back into its sheath.
"Crystal dripped Vyre," he said simply, nodding toward the shards left behind. "Break it, fog no longer has Vyre within it."
Aurelle stepped closer, his eyes lingering on the remains. He studied them in silence for a long moment before giving Gray a small, rare nod. "Nice thinking."
The words caught Gray off guard. For a moment he only blinked, then let a chuckle slip through. "Didn't expect that from you. Thanks."
Renn shifted quickly, his voice cutting in with urgency. "We shouldn't waste time."
The three of them fell back into line, Aurelle taking the lead once more. Their steps echoed softer now, ringing in the emptier chamber as they followed the path toward the far corner. The stone corridor narrowed again, winding into shadow. The torchlight bent weakly against the walls, swallowed by the deeper dark ahead.
The tunnel dipped, sloping downward. Frost thickened along the stone, spreading in wide sheets, coating the walls like frozen waves.
Then the corridor widened one final time, the passage opening onto something unexpected.
At the end of the slope stood a door.
Wooden. Ancient. Its frame rimmed with ice but intact, its surface warped slightly with age yet still whole.
Gray stepped forward slowly. He lifted a hand, brushing gloved fingers over the frozen handle.
With a push, the door opened.