The darkness was suffocating. Cled fell endlessly, the wind screaming past him, shredding his cloak and whipping his hair into his eyes. Below, the abyss pulsed with a green fire that seemed alive, tendrils of frost and shadow curling and writhing as if sensing his presence. Every instinct screamed danger, yet he could not stop. The pull was absolute—a force older than mountains, more ancient than the village, calling him to the very heart of the Frost Mountains.
He extended his hands, channeling Sky energy. Golden light flared around him, clashing with the green glow below, illuminating fragments of jagged ice and stone. The energy slowed his descent only slightly, but it was enough to let him scan the vast chasm. He had fallen farther than any living soul had dared, and the abyss stretched beyond his vision. The sheer scale of it made his pulse quicken.
Then he felt it—a movement beneath him, deliberate and massive. Shadows shifted in patterns that were not random. Shapes larger than boulders rose from the green haze, clawed limbs scraping against jagged ice formations, eyes burning with ancient awareness. The presence he had glimpsed before was awake, aware, and hunting.
Cled's dagger felt small in his hand, yet the Sky energy wrapped it in golden brilliance. He braced himself, knowing instinctively that brute force alone would not suffice. This was a test of survival, strategy, and resolve. Every skill he had learned, every lesson from his father, every ounce of courage would be necessary.
Suddenly, the abyss pulsed violently. A roar like grinding glaciers erupted from below, and Cled was flung against a jagged wall of ice. Pain tore through his shoulder and ribs, but he forced himself up. The roar repeated, reverberating through the cavern in rolling waves that made even the frozen stalactites quiver. The mountain was alive, and it had noticed him.
Golden sparks flared from his hands as he pushed off the icy wall, launching himself deeper into the abyss. The shadows pursued, relentless. They moved faster than thought, striking from every angle. Cled twisted, ducked, and slashed, his energy meeting theirs in bursts of light and darkness. Each clash sent shards of ice scattering across the cavern, glinting like stars in the oppressive black.
As he descended, the green fire intensified. Shapes became more distinct—colossal limbs, jagged spines, and eyes that glowed like molten jade. The presence wasn't a creature in the traditional sense; it was an intelligence embedded into the mountain itself, a living force that breathed, thought, and judged.
Cled realized with cold clarity: to survive, he would need more than strength or skill. He needed understanding. Every movement of the shadows mirrored something, a rhythm, a pattern. They were not chaotic; they were deliberate, testing him. He focused, letting instinct and energy guide him. Every twist, turn, and strike became precise, almost dance-like, as he began to synchronize with the forces around him.
Then a massive shadow lunged from below, its clawed hand aimed straight for him. Cled twisted midair, slashing with his dagger. Golden sparks collided with the green aura of the shadow, and it shattered into fragments of ice and mist. But the fragments didn't dissipate—they reformed behind him, faster and more aggressive. Panic clawed at him, but he forced himself to breathe, centering the Sky energy within.
The abyss narrowed suddenly, forming a tunnel of frost and green fire. Cled fell through it, the walls scraping against his shoulders and legs. The sound of rushing wind, cracking ice, and the growls of the unseen presence became deafening. Then he landed on a small ledge of jagged ice, sweat freezing on his brow, his lungs burning.
The glow of the green fire illuminated a structure far below—a massive door carved directly into the heart of the mountain. Its surface was etched with runes older than the village, older than memory, pulsing faintly in rhythm with the energy he felt coursing through the cavern. This had to be the path the whispers had promised—the heart of the Frost Mountains, sealed and waiting for him.
But the presence of the abyss was not passive. The shadows that had pursued him reformed into colossal, humanoid shapes, guardians of the door. Their eyes glowed with malicious intelligence, and their movements were precise, almost ceremonial. They raised clawed hands in unison, and the air thickened with frost and energy.
Cled's mind raced. This was no longer a simple battle of survival. It was a test—a puzzle woven into life and energy itself. Every strike of the guardians was timed to force missteps, every movement designed to test courage and resolve. He channeled the Sky energy fully, golden light enveloping him, and met their first attack. The clash of energy and ice echoed like thunder.
He moved like a shadow, anticipating each strike, twisting and striking with precision. Each guardian that fell fragmented into green mist, only to reform in different shapes, testing him further. The abyss seemed to react to his determination. The closer he approached the door, the more the guardians intensified their attacks, relentless and calculating.
Then the cavern trembled violently. Ice fell from the walls, and the entire abyss seemed to pulse. The presence below was aware—fully aware. Its energy surged upward, shaking the runes etched into the walls. The guardians roared in unison, a sound that rattled Cled's bones. The mountain itself seemed to groan, alive, resisting his approach.
Cled clenched his teeth, summoning every ounce of energy. He dove between two guardians, slashing with golden light, and felt the ground beneath him quake. One misstep, one hesitation, and he would be lost to the abyss forever. Yet, every strike, every dodge, was precise, controlled, guided by instinct and understanding rather than brute force.
Finally, after a relentless assault, Cled stood before the massive door. The guardians recoiled, merging back into the shadows of the abyss. The runes on the door pulsed violently, sensing him, acknowledging his survival and determination. Yet the green glow beneath it shifted unnaturally. Something stirred behind the door—a force immense, ancient, and aware of his every thought.
Cled's heart pounded. He could feel the Sky energy in his veins responding to the pull of the door. It wasn't just a barrier; it was a test, a sentinel, and a prison all at once. The whispers in his mind intensified, urging him to step forward, to open what had been sealed for centuries.
Then the ground shuddered violently, and the green fire surged outward. The door groaned, ancient and heavy, and a fissure opened at its base. From it, a massive claw emerged—larger than any of the guardians, dripping with green energy that seared the air. Cled barely jumped back in time. The force slammed against the ledge, sending ice shards scattering in all directions.
The presence had awakened fully. The mountain itself roared in recognition of him, and the shadows converged, surrounding him from all angles. Cled's breath came in ragged bursts. The energy within him blazed brighter, golden light forming a protective aura, but he knew instinctively that this was only a temporary shield.
From the crack in the door, a voice resonated, ancient and terrifying:
"Child of the Cracked Sky… you have come far, but this is the edge of your path. Step forward, and face what has waited for you… or fall, lost to the abyss."
Cled's pulse thundered. He knew there was no turning back. Every instinct, every shred of courage, every memory of survival had led him here. With a deep, shuddering breath, he stepped forward, feeling the Sky energy surge in response to his resolve.
The claw withdrew slightly, but the fissure widened, revealing a swirling void beyond the door. Shapes moved inside—colossal, indescribable, shifting between solid and shadow, each pulse of green fire more immense than the last. The guardians had receded, but the true challenge awaited within.
Cled's golden aura flared, his dagger poised. He knew instinctively that passing this threshold would change everything. This was the heart of the Frost Mountains, where time, life, and energy converged into a force beyond comprehension. The whispers that had guided him for nights on end crescendoed in his mind: This is your trial. Step forward, or perish.
With a final glance at the shattered ledge beneath him, Cled stepped into the void, the door sealing partially behind him with a thunderous roar. The green fire and shadows of the abyss converged around him, and the swirling forms of unimaginable size shifted closer.
And then, in the darkness, two eyes larger than any cave or cavern opened, glowing with ancient intelligence and malice, locking onto him.
Cled inhaled sharply, gripping his dagger as the void pulsed violently around him. He realized with absolute clarity: survival alone would not be enough. The true test, the awakening, and the secret of the Frost Mountains awaited—and it was alive, aware, and watching him with every heartbeat.