CHAPTER 15: FACING THE WARDEN

The sun rose reluctantly over Frostholm, its pale light struggling to pierce the heavy gray clouds lingering after the night’s chaos. Snow-covered ground was churned into slush, mingled with ash and streaks of blood. Villagers shuffled about the square, some tending to the wounded, others repairing the shattered barricades.

John stood by the Bone Garrison, leaning on his spear as his mind sorted through the wreckage of his thoughts. The system notifications about casualties and resource losses still echoed in his mind, each one hitting like a punch to the gut. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning to the skeletal captain beside him.

Magnus, true to form, was a mess. His once-pristine armor was scorched and dented, his left arm hung loosely by a thread of bone, and he was missing a leg altogether. Despite this, he saluted crisply, well, as crisply as a skeleton missing multiple appendages could.

“Report, Magnus,” John said, unable to suppress a smirk.

“Sir,” Magnus rasped, his hollow voice tinged with what could only be described as dignified indignation. “We held the line, though at significant personal cost. I regret to inform you that I am currently… not fully operational.”

“You’re missing a leg,” John pointed out.

Magnus glanced down at the empty space where his leg should have been. “Astutely observed, sir. I’ve requested that the villagers keep an eye out for it. I suspect it may have wandered off during the commotion.”

Freya appeared from the far side of the square, wiping soot from her face. She took one look at Magnus and burst into laughter. “I think your leg’s somewhere near the wolf pit. I saw it tripping one of the raiders. Honestly, it was the best part of the fight.”

“I aim to be helpful, Huntress,” Magnus replied with a bow, or at least an attempt at one. His rib cage creaked ominously, and his skull nearly toppled off in the process.

John pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “All right, Magnus. Let’s get you patched up before you fall apart completely.”

John led Magnus to the repair station set up beside the Bone Garrison. Several villagers worked nearby, hauling bones and fragments salvaged from the battlefield. Bjorn joined them, his broad frame towering over everyone as he surveyed the aftermath.

“We lost ten villagers,” Bjorn said, his voice grim. “Another eight fighters injured, and fifteen folks without homes after the west side barricades went down.”

John winced. “The skeletons?”

“Down to thirty-five,” Bjorn replied. “And that’s counting the ones missing parts. I’ve got the others working on repairs.”

As if on cue, a young villager approached, holding a leg bone triumphantly. “I found it!” he declared, waving it around like a prize.

Magnus straightened, or tried to. “Ah, excellent. I was beginning to feel... unbalanced.”

Freya snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

John sighed and reached for the bone, infusing it with mana. It glowed faintly as the jagged edges of Magnus’s stump fused seamlessly with the retrieved leg. Within moments, Magnus was whole again, albeit a little wobbly.

“There,” John said. “Good as new.”

Magnus flexed the leg experimentally, his blue Soulfire eyes glowing brighter. “I am pleased to report full functionality has been restored. Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” John muttered. “Really.”

As Magnus marched off, well, limped off with dignity, Freya leaned against a pile of broken planks, her grin fading into something softer. “We took a hit, but we’re still standing. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

John looked around at the village. The people moved with purpose despite their exhaustion, patching walls and tending to the wounded. Even the children, huddled near the longhouse, seemed calmer now, their eyes watching the Nexus with awe rather than fear.

“It counts for everything,” John said, his voice steady. “We’re stronger than we think.”

Freya smirked and elbowed him lightly. “Now, if only we could teach your skeletons to tell jokes, we might actually get through this with our sanity intact.”

John chuckled. “I’ll add it to the skill tree. Right after ‘Learn to walk without losing a leg.’”

Freya’s laugh rang out, clear and genuine, a rare moment of levity in the wake of destruction. Together, they turned back toward the Nexus, where the next battle loomed just over the horizon.

The late afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows over Frostholm. Despite the frantic activity of repairs and training, an uneasy stillness began to seep into the village as the day wore on. The shadows around the outskirts of the forest deepened unnaturally, stretching further than they should under the waning light.

John stood near the Nexus, the artifacts arranged on a reinforced pedestal before him. The Heartstone glowed faintly red, its pulse steady like a heartbeat. The Soulflame flickered with ethereal blue energy, casting ghostly light on the nearby villagers. The Graven Crown, darker than a starless night, hummed faintly, its runes shifting like whispers caught on the wind.

Freya approached from the wall, her Shadow-Steel dagger at her hip and a no-nonsense expression on her face. “You feel that?” she asked, her voice low but steady.

John nodded, his grip tightening on his spear. “Something’s coming.”

Bjorn strode up, his face grim. “The woods are too quiet. No birds, no wind. Whatever it is, it’s already here.”

The Nexus pulsed suddenly, its green barrier flickering as a ripple of energy washed through the air. Villagers froze mid-step, their faces turning toward the horizon. A low, resonant hum grew louder, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet.

And then, it began.

A swirling vortex of shadow appeared at the treeline, growing larger with each passing moment. The air grew frigid, and a sound like cracking ice filled the village as the vortex expanded. From within, a towering figure emerged, a twisted amalgamation of shadow and bone. Its form was unstable, flickering like a flame caught in the wind, yet its presence was suffocatingly real.

The Warden had arrived.

He stood at least three times the height of a man, his skeletal frame cloaked in billowing darkness. Green flames burned in his hollow eye sockets, and his voice echoed like a death knell, deep and resonant. “Mortals,” he intoned, his words chilling the air. “You think your walls, your tricks, your borrowed power can stop me?”

Villagers cowered, clutching weapons that suddenly felt inadequate. Even Magnus, standing proudly on his newly restored leg, shifted uneasily. “Sir,” he whispered to John, “might I suggest a tactical retreat? Or perhaps pretending we’re not home?”

John ignored him, stepping forward to meet the Warden’s gaze. “You’re not as unstoppable as you think,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady. He gestured toward the artifacts. “These prove that you can be beaten.”

The Warden’s laughter rumbled like distant thunder. “Beaten? You misunderstand, Bone Caller. These artifacts are not your salvation. They are my tools, remnants of an era when I was contained. And you,” his gaze bore into John, “you are the key that unlocked the door.”

The weight of the Warden’s words settled over the village. Freya drew her dagger, stepping up beside John. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for a walking pile of bad decisions,” she said, her voice sharp and unwavering. “We’ve already taken down everything you’ve sent at us. What makes you think you’ll be any different?”

The Warden turned his hollow gaze toward her, his burning eyes narrowing. “Ah, the huntress. Brave, but foolish. Do you think your blade can pierce what is already beyond life and death?”

“Only one way to find out,” Freya shot back, her grip tightening on her weapon.

The Warden ignored her challenge, his focus returning to John. “You feel it, don’t you?” he said, his voice a dark whisper that seemed to echo inside John’s mind. “The connection. The imbalance. You do not belong here, Bone Caller, and your very presence unravels the barriers that once held me. The bridge is already built, you are too late.”

John’s stomach twisted at the words. The spectral guardian’s warning came rushing back: “The bridge is already built, you’re too late.” He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. “What bridge?” he demanded. “What are you talking about?”

The Warden tilted his head, his skeletal grin widening. “You will see soon enough.”

The Nexus flared suddenly, its green energy surging outward. The Warden’s form flickered violently, his shadows twisting as if repelled by the light. He let out a guttural growl, his voice reverberating across the village. “Enjoy your reprieve, mortals. It will be your last.”

With that, the Warden dissolved into a swirling mass of shadows, retreating back into the forest. The oppressive atmosphere lifted slightly, but the damage was done. The villagers’ morale hung by a thread, and John’s mind raced with questions.

Freya sheathed her dagger, exhaling slowly. “Well, that was fun.”

John turned to her, his expression grim. “We need to figure out what he meant by the bridge. If it’s what’s keeping him here, we have to destroy it.”

Bjorn approached, his face as hard as stone. “We’ll hold the line, no matter what it takes.”

John nodded, though the weight of the Warden’s words pressed heavily on him. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, but the picture they formed was one of devastation. If the Warden’s bridge truly connected life, death, and shadow, breaking it might come at a cost he wasn’t ready to pay.

But he would. For Frostholm, and for the people who depended on him, he would.

The air in Frostholm felt heavier than before. Though the Warden’s projection had retreated, the village bristled with unease. Nightfall was still hours away, but the shadows stretched unnaturally long, clawing at the edges of the village as if alive. Every creak of the barricades or whisper of the wind sent shivers through the defenders.

John stood near the Nexus, his fingers brushing the artifacts laid out on the pedestal. The Graven Crown seemed colder now, its whispers more insistent. His mind raced with fragments of the Warden’s cryptic taunts and the guardian’s warning. The bridge is already built… you’re too late.

Freya’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Bone Caller, you’re thinking too hard again.”

He glanced over. Freya was leaning against her axe, watching him with that faint smirk she wore when trying to lighten the mood. “You hear what he said,” John replied. “If the bridge is the key to all this…”

“Then we break it,” Freya interrupted, stepping closer. “That’s what we do, John. We find the problem, we hit it until it’s not a problem anymore.”

John let out a humorless chuckle. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is.” She shrugged, then gestured toward the villagers and skeletons repairing the defenses. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ve got people counting on us. Overthink all you want later, right now, we need to hold the line.”

Before John could respond, the ground beneath their feet rumbled. The Nexus pulsed violently, its green barrier flaring before dimming back to its steady glow. A collective hush fell over the village as every eye turned toward the forest.

The shadows at the treeline surged forward, twisting and writhing into a colossal figure. The Warden returned, but this time, there was no flickering or instability. His form was solid, massive, and suffused with a terrifying power. His skeletal frame seemed reinforced, covered in jagged bone plates, and his hollow eyes burned brighter than before.

The Warden’s voice thundered across the village. “You thought you could defy me. You thought your artifacts and your walls would save you.” He stepped closer, his footfalls shaking the earth. “Fools. You’ve only delayed the inevitable.”

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John felt his blood run cold. The Warden’s presence was suffocating, his form towering over the Nexus like a storm about to break. “Defensive positions!” John shouted, his voice cutting through the paralysis of fear gripping the defenders. “Everyone, now!”

Villagers scrambled to their posts, clutching weapons and shields as the skeletal garrison moved to the front lines. Bjorn barked orders, his voice booming as he rallied the fighters. Freya, however, didn’t move to the wall. She stepped forward, her Shadow-Steel dagger glinting in her hand.

“Freya,” John warned, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” she shot back, not breaking stride. “I’m not waiting for him to tear through the defenses. If he wants a fight, he’s getting one.”

The Warden’s gaze fixed on her, and the air seemed to freeze. “Ah, the huntress again. So eager to die.”

Freya smirked, raising her dagger. “You talk too much.”

With a battle cry, she charged.

The Warden swiped at her with a massive claw, but she ducked under the blow with uncanny speed. Her dagger flashed as she struck, slashing through the shadowy tendrils of his form. The Shadow-Steel blade flared as it connected, and the Warden let out a guttural growl, recoiling slightly.

“Freya!” John yelled, summoning Soulfire skeletons to her aid. “Pull back!”

She ignored him, darting in again to land another hit. This time, the Warden was ready. His massive hand shot out, swatting her aside like a rag doll. She crashed into a nearby barricade with a sickening crunch, her dagger clattering to the ground.

“Freya!” John’s voice cracked as he sprinted toward her, but the Warden turned his gaze to him, a wicked grin splitting his skeletal face.

“Your bravery is admirable,” the Warden intoned, his voice dripping with mockery. “But futile.”

The Soulfire skeletons engaged the Warden, their flaming weapons cutting into his form, but his retaliatory strikes shattered them like brittle glass. Behind John, villagers and fighters surged forward, only to hesitate as the Warden’s shadowy aura flared, sending tendrils of darkness whipping outward. Several fell back, clutching at wounds inflicted by the corrosive energy.

John reached Freya, dropping to his knees beside her. Her face was pale, blood trickling from a cut on her temple. She coughed, managing a weak smile. “Guess I got a little overconfident.”

“Stay still,” John said, his voice shaking as he pulled out a healing potion. He poured it over her wound, but the glow of the magic seemed faint, barely enough to stop the bleeding.

“You’ve got bigger problems,” Freya rasped, her gaze shifting to the Warden. “Don’t worry about me.”

Bjorn arrived with a group of villagers, pulling Freya back toward safety. “She’s right, Bone Caller,” Bjorn said. “You focus on that monster. We’ll hold the line.”

John stood, gripping his spear as the Warden advanced. The three artifacts on the pedestal began to hum, their resonance building into a sharp, insistent vibration. The Graven Crown pulsed in rhythm with the Nexus, the Heartstone flared crimson, and the Soulflame’s energy coiled like a living thing.

The system chimed in his mind, overlaying a vision of the necromantic bridge, a spectral construct of shadow, bone, and flickering light, stretching into the void. The realization hit him like a hammer: The bridge is the key to everything. The Warden’s rise, his power… it all stems from the bridge. And my summoning caused it.

The Warden’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Do you see now, Bone Caller? Your very existence strengthens me. Your defiance is the catalyst for your downfall.”

John’s grip tightened on his spear. The artifacts’ energy surged through him, filling him with equal parts power and dread. Freya’s fall had forced him to see the truth, there was no running from this fight, no delaying it. The Warden would not stop until everything was consumed.

“I see enough,” John said, stepping forward. The air around him crackled with necromantic energy as the Nexus flared brighter, its light casting the Warden’s shadow into sharp relief.

This wasn’t just a battle. It was the beginning of the end. And John was done holding back.

The air around Frostholm was electric with tension. The Nexus pulsed, its glow rippling outward in waves of green light as John stared down the towering form of the Warden. Shadows writhed and coiled around the monstrous figure, casting jagged shapes against the walls of the village. His taunts echoed in John’s mind, but his focus sharpened as the artifacts hummed in unison, their energy coursing through the air like a storm about to break.

Freya’s battered form had been dragged to safety by Bjorn and the villagers, but her blood still stained the snow where she had fallen. The sight lit a fire in John’s chest. There was no time for doubt, no time for fear. It was time to act.

“You’ve played your hand, Warden,” John said, stepping forward. His voice rang clear, steady despite the storm raging within him. “Now it’s my turn.”

The Warden tilted his head, his burning green eyes narrowing with amusement. “Foolish Bone Caller. You think your stolen power can match mine? You are but a shadow of what I am.”

“Maybe,” John replied, raising his hand toward the artifacts. “But sometimes a shadow is all it takes to bring down the giant.”

The Heartstone pulsed first, a deep crimson glow radiating from the pedestal. The Soulflame responded in kind, its azure energy spiraling upward to meet the blood-red light. Finally, the Graven Crown flared with dark energy, its runes glowing like embers as the artifacts connected. The air crackled, and John felt the surge of power flood his veins, his connection to the Nexus intensifying.

The system chimed in his mind.

[ARTIFACT SYNERGY ACTIVATED: NEXUS BOOST]

Effect: Amplifies the strength of minions, constructs, and spells within the Nexus radius. Consumes mana at an accelerated rate.

Warning: Prolonged use will drain the user significantly.

John ignored the warning. He thrust his spear into the ground, channeling the energy of the artifacts into the Nexus. The green barrier flared brighter, expanding outward and forcing the Warden to take a step back. Shadows peeled away from his form, sizzling as they came into contact with the light.

“Impressive,” the Warden growled, his form flickering slightly. “But this changes nothing.”

With a sweep of his massive claw, he sent a wave of shadow crashing toward the Nexus. John reacted instinctively, raising his hands as the energy surged through him. “Bone Wall!” he shouted.

Jagged spikes of bone erupted from the ground, forming an impenetrable barrier that absorbed the impact of the shadowy attack. The Warden’s blow shattered the outer layers, but the structure held firm, buying John precious seconds.

The Soulfire skeletons, bolstered by the Nexus, surged forward, their flames burning brighter than ever. They swarmed the Warden, their strikes coordinated under John’s Command Aura. Swords, spears, and axes rained down on the towering figure, forcing him to shift his attention to the relentless constructs.

But the Warden wasn’t easily overwhelmed. With a roar, he unleashed a shockwave of dark energy, scattering the skeletons like leaves in a storm. Several crumbled to ash, their Soulfire extinguished. John staggered as the connection to his minions weakened, his mana reserves dipping precariously low.

[MANA LEVELS: 35% REMAINING]

The Warden advanced, his skeletal frame radiating an aura of dread that seemed to sap the courage of the villagers and remaining fighters. “You cannot win, Bone Caller. Your strength is borrowed, your resolve fleeting.”

John clenched his fists, his mind racing. He couldn’t match the Warden’s raw power head-on, not without pushing the artifacts to their limits. He reached out to the Bone Golem, its massive form still holding its ground against the encroaching shadows.

“Golem,” John commanded, his voice strained, “hold him down.”

The Golem roared in response, charging forward with earth-shaking steps. Its spiked fists slammed into the Warden’s chest, driving him back toward the Nexus. The Warden snarled, clawing at the Golem with shadowy appendages, but the construct held firm, its runes glowing brighter as the Necrotic Furnace aura bolstered the nearby skeletons.

John seized the moment, his voice rising above the chaos. “Soulfire Cascade!”

A wave of necrotic fire erupted from his outstretched hands, sweeping across the battlefield and engulfing the Warden in searing flames. The shadows around him writhed and screeched, breaking apart under the onslaught. The Warden let out a guttural roar, his form flickering as cracks began to spiderweb across his skeletal frame.

[Warden Integrity: 87%]

It wasn’t enough. The Warden was still too strong. John felt the artifacts hum again, their energy surging like a tidal wave. They were calling to him, urging him to push further.

“You’re right,” John muttered, his grip tightening on his spear. “This power isn’t mine. But I’ll use every ounce of it to stop you.”

He channeled the artifacts’ combined energy into the Nexus, the green light intensifying until it was almost blinding. The ground beneath Frostholm trembled as the system chimed again.

[ARTIFACT POWER OVERLOAD: WARNING—USER AT RISK]

Effect: Amplifies damage output but drains life force. Duration: 30 seconds.

John’s body screamed in protest as the power coursed through him, but he focused it into a single command. “All units, attack!”

The remaining skeletons and villagers surged forward, their strikes more precise, their movements perfectly synchronized. Even the wounded fighters, inspired by John’s resolve, joined the fray. The Bone Golem unleashed a devastating shockwave, forcing the Warden to his knees.

The Warden snarled, his voice echoing with rage. “You think this will stop me? The bridge—”

“Will be your end,” John interrupted, his voice resolute. He raised his hand, summoning a spectral spear forged from the Nexus’s energy. “This is for Frostholm!”

With a final surge of strength, he hurled the spear. It pierced the Warden’s chest, detonating in a burst of green and crimson light. The Warden’s form shattered, fragments of shadow scattering like ash on the wind. The oppressive aura lifted, and the battlefield fell silent.

John collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath. The system chimed faintly in his mind.

[Warden Temporarily Repelled: Integrity Reduced to 47%]

[Mana Drained: 12% Remaining]

The villagers erupted into cheers, their voices a mixture of relief and triumph. Bjorn approached, helping John to his feet. “You did it,” he said, his voice thick with gratitude. “You saved us.”

John shook his head, his gaze fixed on the flickering remains of the Warden’s shadow. “This isn’t over,” he said quietly. “As long as the bridge exists, he’ll come back.”

He looked toward the horizon, his determination hardening. “We’ve bought ourselves time. Now we end this, for good.”

The longhouse was dimly lit, the fire in the central hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. The villagers sat in a semicircle around the massive table, their faces a mix of exhaustion and grim determination. Bjorn stood at one end, arms crossed, his presence a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos. John leaned heavily against the table, the three artifacts spread before him, their glow faint but insistent.

Freya sat nearby, her arm wrapped in makeshift bandages, her expression one of stubborn defiance despite her injury. The room buzzed with low murmurs until John raised his hand, silencing the crowd.

“We don’t have much time,” he began, his voice steady despite the weight of the day’s events. “The Warden is weakened, but he’s not defeated. He’ll come back, and when he does, it’ll be with everything he has.”

Bjorn stepped forward, his voice a deep rumble. “We’ll meet him head-on. The walls are holding, the traps are reset, and the fighters are ready. Whatever that monster throws at us, we’ll push it back.”

A murmur of agreement swept through the room, but John shook his head. “It won’t be enough. This isn’t just about Frostholm anymore. The Warden’s strength comes from the necromantic bridge, and as long as it exists, he’ll keep coming back.”

The villagers exchanged uneasy glances. Bjorn frowned. “What are you saying?”

John straightened, his eyes locking on Bjorn’s. “I’m saying we have to destroy the bridge. Permanently.”

Freya shifted in her seat, her expression tightening. “And how exactly do we do that, Bone Caller? The bridge isn’t here, is it?”

“No,” John admitted, “but the artifacts are the key. Together, they can sever the connection between worlds. The system has shown me glimpses of how it works. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be without cost, but it’s the only way to stop him.”

Silence fell over the room. The villagers looked to Bjorn, then to Freya, and finally back to John. Freya broke the tension, her voice sharp. “What kind of cost are we talking about?”

John hesitated, his gaze dropping to the glowing artifacts. “If the bridge collapses… there’s a chance I won’t make it back. The system hasn’t been clear on what happens to someone tied to the bridge when it’s destroyed.”

Freya shot to her feet, wincing as pain flared in her side. “Then we find another way. You’re not sacrificing yourself for this.”

“It’s not up for debate,” John said, his tone firm but not unkind. “This isn’t just about me or Frostholm. If we don’t act, the Warden’s corruption will spread to every corner of this world, and beyond. I can’t let that happen.”

Freya’s fists clenched, and for a moment, it seemed like she might argue further. But instead, she exhaled sharply and sat back down, her eyes blazing. “If you’re going to do this, you’d better make damn sure it works.”

John allowed himself a faint smile. “I will.”

Bjorn placed a hand on John’s shoulder, his grip heavy but reassuring. “Whatever you need, you’ll have it. Frostholm owes you that much.”

John nodded, his focus turning to the artifacts. “The Nexus will amplify the artifacts’ power, but it’ll also make us a beacon for the Warden. He’ll know what we’re doing and throw everything he has at us. We’ll need to hold him off long enough for the process to work.”

Bjorn grunted. “We can handle that. What’s the plan?”

John traced his finger along the map spread across the table. “The skeletons and Soulfire constructs will form the first line of defense at the walls. Villagers with Shadow-Steel weapons will support them, focusing on the smaller shadow creatures. The Bone Golem will anchor the southern gate, if the Warden breaks through anywhere, it’ll be there.”

He looked up, meeting Bjorn’s and Freya’s gazes in turn. “Freya, you’re staying here.”

“Like Hel I am,” she shot back, her voice sharp.

“You’re injured,” John said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I need you alive. If this fails, Frostholm will need a leader, and that’s you.”

Freya opened her mouth to argue, but Bjorn’s firm hand on her shoulder stopped her. “He’s right,” Bjorn said. “You’ve done more than enough. Let us handle this.”

Freya’s jaw tightened, but she eventually nodded, though her expression was far from pleased. “Fine. But if you die out there, I’m dragging you back just to kill you myself.”

John chuckled softly, a flicker of warmth cutting through the tension. “Noted.”

The system chimed faintly in his mind, and a new notification appeared.

[QUESTLINE ACTIVATED: THE NECROMANTIC BRIDGE]

Objective: Sever the bridge connecting realms to end the Warden’s reign.

Rewards: Experience, Artifact Mastery, and Resolution of Balance.

Warning: Completion may result in permanent changes to the Summoned’s status.

John dismissed the prompt, his resolve hardening. “This is it,” he said, his voice carrying through the room. “Tomorrow, we end this.”

As the villagers began to disperse, returning to their preparations, Freya approached John. Her voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable. “You’ve come a long way, Bone Caller. I don’t think I’ve said it, but… I trust you. Just don’t make me regret it.”

John met her gaze, his expression softening. “I won’t. I promise.”

She nodded, her usual smirk returning as she turned away. “Good. Now get some rest. You’ll need it.”

John lingered in the longhouse after everyone had gone, the firelight casting long shadows on the walls. The Nexus pulsed faintly outside, its light a constant reminder of what was to come. He stared at the artifacts, their glow steady and unwavering.

Outside, the village was quiet, the air heavy with anticipation. John stepped out into the cold night, the stars above obscured by thick clouds. He stood alone, gazing into the darkness beyond Frostholm’s walls.

The weight of his choices settled over him, but he didn’t falter. The Warden would return, and when he did, John would be ready.

“For Frostholm,” he murmured to himself, the words a promise as much as a battle cry.

The Nexus pulsed once more, its glow illuminating his silhouette as he prepared for the final stand.