The Silvergale glided through pale morning fog as it sailed northward, the sea growing colder with every passing league. Snowflakes drifted in from a distant stormfront, a silent promise of the icy horrors ahead.
Kael stood near the prow, his cloak flapping in the biting wind. His eyes were locked on the distant horizon where jagged white peaks tore through the clouds.
> The Stormridge Expanse.
No one in Eltherion crossed into that frozen labyrinth willingly. Blizzards raged without end. Compasses spun uselessly. Even magic bent and twisted in unnatural ways.
And somewhere beyond it all, hidden deep within the Ice Labyrinth of Nareth, lay the third Ember Shard.
Kael gritted his teeth. "We're almost there."
Taron approached, wrapped in a fur-lined robe and grumbling under his breath. "I enchanted the hull to resist the worst of the cold, but I'm warning you now—this place eats spells like fire eats oil."
Lira joined them, her voice hushed. "I've seen it in the flames. The shard is hidden within a sanctum built before even the Flameborn Empire. Guarded by more than frost."
Kael glanced at her. "You saw anything else?"
She hesitated. "A creature. Shackled in ice, but not asleep. Waiting."
---
A Warning from the Deep
That night, as the Silvergale anchored in a bay of glacial stone, Kael stepped off onto a frozen dock built by some long-forgotten civilization. The structure was impossibly intact—unweathered by time or temperature.
Lira's breath caught. "These weren't made by mortals."
Taron touched the ancient pillars. "Aethercarved. Pre-Vaelorian. Possibly Celestian."
A sudden rumble echoed from beneath the ice.
Then a voice, muffled and distant, but unmistakably real:
> "Turn… back…"
The crew froze. Ice cracked across the bay in spiderweb patterns.
Kael looked down—through the clear ice, dozens of feet below the surface, a massive eye opened.
It wasn't a beast. It was something older. Forgotten. A watcher.
It blinked once.
Then closed.
The rumble faded.
Kael turned back to Lira and Taron. "We move at dawn."
---
The Ice Labyrinth of Nareth
By morning, the Silvergale was hidden beneath a cliffside, and the trio—Kael, Lira, and Taron—began their trek on foot into the Expanse.
The cold wasn't natural.
The moment they stepped beyond the ancient arches that marked the labyrinth's entrance, warmth fled their bodies—even Lira's Ember Shard seemed to flicker in distress.
Walls of ice rose around them like glass, towering hundreds of feet. Paths twisted, overlapped, or vanished altogether.
Taron muttered spells under his breath, casting blue markers on the walls to track their movement.
"Stay close," he warned. "Time and space don't behave properly in here. If you get separated, you may not find us again."
As they advanced, strange reflections appeared in the ice.
Not of themselves—but of their fears.
Kael saw his father, bloodied and broken, accusing him of failure.
Lira saw fire consuming her temple sisters.
Taron saw a future version of himself, alone, mad, covered in runes, eyes black.
They pressed forward anyway.
---
The Frost Wraith
Near the labyrinth's center, the cold became unbearable—even Kael, whose body had endured dragon fire and shadow poison, struggled to stay upright.
Suddenly, the air shifted.
Frost spun violently into the air, forming a shape—humanoid, tall, crowned with icicles.
A Frost Wraith, guardian of the shard.
Its voice crackled like frozen glass.
> "None may claim the Heart of Ice."
Kael unsheathed his sword, flames sputtering.
Taron staggered. "Magic's too weak here—I need a focus!"
Lira stepped forward, her hand glowing red. "Then I'll hold it back."
She summoned a wall of fire—but it flickered, struggling in the dead air.
The Wraith hissed and raised its arms.
A blizzard struck them like a hammer.
Kael leapt into the air, striking at the creature's center. His blade hit—but froze instantly, crusted in rime.
The Wraith laughed—a horrible, hollow sound.
Then it reached for Lira.
> "Give me your fire, child. It has no place here."
Lira screamed—and suddenly the Ember Crown pulsed.
Not once—but twice.
---
The Third Shard Reveals Itself
A beam of light erupted from Lira's chest—the third shard, long dormant, hidden within her all along.
It connected to the other two, forming a triad of energy.
Fire returned to the frozen air.
Kael drove his blade once more into the Wraith, now weakened by the surge of heat.
This time, it struck true.
The creature shrieked—splintered—shattered into fragments of snow and light.
Taron gasped. "She… she had it inside her?"
Lira collapsed to her knees, the shards orbiting her heart, glowing like stars.
Kael knelt beside her. "You're not just a Seer anymore."
She nodded weakly. "I'm a vessel. The flame chose me."
The labyrinth around them trembled.
Cracks formed in the walls of ice.
The illusion holding the ancient city beyond was falling.
Taron's eyes widened. "We have to move—NOW!"
---
The City Beneath the Ice
As the ice fell away, a city emerged.
Towering spires carved from sapphire-like frost. Statues of forgotten kings. Runes older than Eltherion itself.
In the center of the city stood a massive gate—sealed with flame and frost.
Behind it, something called.
Kael approached, drawn by instinct.
Then he heard it.
> "Kael of the Flameborn… you are not ready."
It wasn't hostile. It was… ancient.
A guardian voice.
A test.
The ground shook. From within the gate, a figure began to form—a being made of both fire and ice, sword in each hand.
The final gatekeeper.