The snowstorm had passed, but a deeper chill lingered in the air.From the battlements of Wintercrest, Duke Arden watched as his elite unit — The Silver Shadows — prepared to depart.
Seven riders stood ready beneath the morning sun, their Direwolves restless and eager for the hunt.At the lead stood Ryn Ashveil, her silver hair bound in a loose braid, her twin daggers glinting beneath her cloak.
Beside her, the elf Elyndra adjusted her longbow while murmuring a spell of concealment.The cat-girl Mira stretched, tail flicking with anticipation.And behind them, two newly trained captains of Arden's martial corps saluted sharply, their armor bearing the sigil of the North — a wolf's head wreathed in frost.
Arden stepped forward, his cloak of black fur sweeping across the frost-covered ground.
"Your objective is to locate and observe the group known as the Children of the Fallen," he began. "Engage only if necessary. We need knowledge more than blood this time."
Ryn bowed slightly. "Understood, my lord. But if they threaten our people…"
Arden's eyes glinted coldly. "Then leave none alive."
The riders saluted in unison before spurring their Direwolves into motion. The gates opened, and like shadows across the snow, they vanished into the white wilderness.
Two days later.
The group reached the edge of the Veyrith Ravine, a deep scar across the land where ancient ruins slumbered beneath frost and ash. Strange sigils glowed faintly along the cliffs — the same red patterns seen in Selene's reports.
Elyndra crouched, scanning the terrain. "No signs of life on the surface, but there's movement underground. Dozens of heat signatures."
Mira sniffed the air, ears twitching. "Blood. Old and fresh. Human… and something else."
Ryn drew her blade. "We move in quiet. The cult likes its prayers loud — we'll use that."
The group descended into the ravine, moving like shadows through the mist.Soon, the faint echo of chanting reached their ears — a haunting rhythm that pulsed with unnatural resonance.
At the bottom lay a ruined temple — once belonging to the Church of the Holy Dawn, now desecrated beyond recognition.The symbol of the sun had been inverted, blackened by ash.
Inside, dozens of hooded cultists knelt before a massive, broken statue — the form of a once-holy angel, its wings cracked, eyes bleeding crimson light.
At the altar stood a man in white robes, his voice deep and intoxicating.
"Rejoice, my children! For the gods do not abandon us — they descend! Through suffering, through sin, we become their vessels!"
The crowd responded in manic unison."Glory to the Fallen!"
Ryn whispered, "They're feeding divine remnants into human hosts… this is madness."
But then — the chanting stopped.
The priest turned his head — slowly, deliberately — and looked straight toward their hiding place.
"Ah," he murmured. "Visitors."
Before they could react, black mist surged across the chamber. From the shadows emerged warped creatures — half-human, half-divine, their bodies cracked with molten light.
"Contact!" Elyndra hissed, loosing an arrow that struck the nearest monster square in the chest. It screamed — not in pain, but in ecstasy — as it dissolved into ash.
Ryn blurred forward, blades flashing in silver arcs. Mira followed, claws glowing with Qi as she tore through the corrupted cultists.
"Don't let them touch you!" Ryn shouted. "They're using fragments — they'll infect your core!"
The battle raged amidst flickering runes and collapsing pillars.
Elyndra unleashed a rain of spirit arrows, each bursting with divine-suppression energy.Mira darted beneath them, striking low, her movements like lightning.
Yet the priest remained calm, arms raised to the heavens."You think you fight for mortals? Fools — you are the offerings!"
The statue behind him split open — and from within, a luminous figure emerged.A woman of light, her face serene, wings made of burning feathers.
But her eyes were empty.
Elyndra gasped. "That's… an Angel Fragment!"
Ryn's voice was grim. "No — that's a fallen one."
The angel's gaze turned toward Ryn, and for a brief moment — something stirred within Arden's distant memory. A flash of his old life. A mountain peak. A war of gods and mortals.
He wasn't there — but he felt it through her.
"Bring me the Reborn One," the angel's voice echoed, layered with divine echoes. "The man who defied the Heavens in two lifetimes."
Ryn's blood ran cold. She knows his name.
The priest cackled. "You see, Duke Arden Vale is not unknown to our masters. The heavens remember the man who ascended beyond mortal limits."
Ryn snarled. "You won't live long enough to tell them where he is."
She vanished in a flash of silver, appearing behind the priest — and drove her dagger straight through his heart.The runes pulsed violently — the angel's form flickered, screeching in a thousand voices — before collapsing into motes of dark light.
When silence returned, the temple lay in ruins.
As the team emerged from the ravine, the snow began to fall again — quietly, almost peacefully.
Elyndra exhaled shakily. "That was no mere cult ritual. Someone guided that."
Ryn wiped the blood from her blade. "The gods aren't descending randomly anymore. They're searching for him."
Mira looked northward, toward the distant spires of Wintercrest. "Then we need to warn Lord Arden."
Ryn's expression hardened. "No. We bring proof first — or he'll come himself, and that's exactly what they want."
She glanced once more at the shattered temple below.
"And next time," she whispered, "we won't be the hunters — they'll be."