It was a morning like any other for Thomas, a carpenter from Bitterthorn. It was a very common job in the village and craftsmanship was one of the most widespread professions: the strong and durable wood from the area was shipped throughout the Empire.

The dawn had already painted the sky in pale orange when Thomas made his way to the table, where breakfast awaited him.

“Good morning, dear,” he greeted with a smile, directing his words to Olivia, his wife, who was setting the table.

“Good morning,” she replied without turning, already busy tending to the fire and plates. Her movements were quick and precise, honed by years of daily routine.

Two children were already devouring their eggs and bread, their appetite justified only by the boundless hunger of youth. Ben, the eldest, was twelve years old, while Emily, a few years younger, smiled mischievously between bites.

Thomas sat down and poured himself some water into a cup. “Where’s Lucy? Has she already left?” he asked.

“Yes,” Olivia replied as she moved a pot over the fire. “Berta’s daughter isn’t feeling well, and you know Lucy… she offered to help. She needed to leave early today.”

Thomas nodded, content but with a faint trace of worry on his face. “Alright. Ben, hurry up and finish eating; we need to go.”

With practiced efficiency, Thomas finished his own eggs and bread, then stood up. He bent down to kiss his youngest daughter on the head. “Emily, help your mother around the house today, alright?”

“Yes, Father!” she chirped with a cheerful voice.

They stepped outside onto the cobblestone streets of Bitterthorn, with the tavern standing prominently in front of them. After all, they were a moderately well-off family. The house they lived in had been part of the dowry received during the marriage; Olivia’s father had once been a merchant, though he had since lost nearly everything.

Thomas, on the other hand, had earned his higher status through skill. At the carpentry workshop, he was responsible for working with the finest woods—tasks that required an expert’s hand and exceptional precision. This allowed him to provide a relatively comfortable life for his family.

And perhaps that was why he could never quite stomach the idea of his daughter working in that tavern, surrounded by boorish, rowdy men. Every time the thought crossed his mind, a shadow of displeasure clouded his expression. But times were what they were, and work, however humble, was necessary.

They had barely taken a few steps along the street when an unnatural sound broke through the morning air.

Thomas instinctively raised his gaze northward, and what he saw froze the breath in his lungs. Massive figures soared across the sky, their dark shapes etched against the distant mountains. His eyes widened, his pupils dilated, and his heart began to pound like a frantic drum.

Then, the first cry tore through the silence.

Rrrraaaaaghhhh!

It was a sound that struck fear into the depths of one’s soul, a predatory call that seemed to dig into the very marrow of his bones. It reminded him of the screech of an eagle, but more guttural, layered with a serpentine hiss that made it even more unnerving—like nails raking across his ears. Every fiber of his body screamed for him to run.

“Ben! Let’s go!” Thomas shouted, his voice trembling with fear as he grabbed his son’s arm to drag him along.

The boy stood frozen, paralyzed by terror, unable even to protest as his father yanked him toward the door of their home.

Sbam!

The door slammed open with force, crashing against the wall before Thomas pushed it shut with all his strength. The house, which had only moments ago been steeped in peaceful morning quiet, was now consumed by chaos.

Olivia and Emily turned to face the entrance, their eyes wide with panic. Olivia clutched Emily protectively against her chest. The little girl, sensing her mother’s fear, clung to her tightly, her small hands trembling.

“What are those sounds?! What’s happening?!” Olivia cried out, her voice a mixture of fear and desperation. Her words came out broken, barely louder than a whisper over the chaos outside.

The two children, dragged inside like lifeless dolls, were too stunned to speak. Ben clung to his father’s side, while Emily stared up at the adults, searching their faces for answers they couldn’t provide.

Panting heavily, Thomas leaned against the door as though his presence alone could hold back the storm outside. His voice came out in short, strained bursts: “I don’t know! Massive things… in the sky! They’re everywhere!”

Each word felt like a struggle. His mind raced, desperate for a plan, a solution, anything to make sense of the nightmare unfolding. He wasn’t prepared. No one was.

“Take the children to the bedroom. I’ll block the windows and the door.”

Thomas’s voice was tight, his attempt at calm betrayed by the urgency laced in his tone. He was trying to impose order on a situation spiraling beyond his control.

The wooden shutters were closed hurriedly, his hands trembling yet unrelenting. Each movement was quiet and deliberate, as though any noise might summon the chaos outside. He barred the door with the heavy iron latch, then dragged the large wooden table across the floor to brace the entrance.

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Outside, the familiar sounds of village life had vanished, replaced by an orchestra of screams and guttural roars. The ordinary morning air was now thick with the echoes of horror, alien and grotesque.

When Thomas finished securing the house, he headed to the bedroom where his family was hiding. Opening the door, he saw Olivia clutching both children close. Their small bodies trembled against her, and her tear-streaked face turned to meet his.

“Lucy,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “We have to bring her here. She’s in danger out there!”

Her words hit Thomas like a dagger. A cold realization settled over him: not everyone was there. Not all of his family was safe. In the panic and the rush, he had forgotten Lucy.

But now? With the house sealed and his wife and children clinging to each other, could he truly put them all at risk?

“We can’t,” Thomas said, his voice breaking under the weight of his own words. The anguish on his face was unmistakable.

“You’re insane! We can’t leave her!” Olivia’s whispered cry was laced with fury and desperation, her eyes blazing with disbelief.

“Shh! Lower your voice!” Thomas snapped, his hand gesturing frantically for silence. Olivia’s anger faltered, her lips trembling as she realized that even her whispers might bring them harm.

“I can’t go out there,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I won’t put all of you in danger. Lucy is smart. She’ll have hidden in the tavern. You know our girl… she’s clever.”

His words were a feeble attempt at reassurance, spoken as much for himself as for his wife. He needed to believe them. He had no other choice.

BRAMM!

A thud. Something heavy had landed on the roof.

Then, like an unstoppable torrent, a terrifying sound poured above their heads: the creaking and collapsing of wooden beams, accompanied by screams of despair and the guttural cries of a sinister joy.

The family living upstairs… they must have met their end.

Thomas held Emily even tighter, his hands pressing against the girl’s mouth to stifle any sound. Olivia was next to him, trembling, her gaze fixed on nothingness. They didn’t move; they didn’t breathe, as though silence itself could save them.

But the beating of their hearts seemed to betray them, growing louder and faster with each passing moment.

Then, a different noise. Strange words echoed from above—a guttural, cruel language that reminded Thomas of the slow, relentless movement of a glacier.

TONF! TONF!

Two thumps came from in front of the house.

Terror seeped into their minds like poison. Thomas didn’t dare move his hand from Emily’s mouth, but his eyes were already on the blade he had grabbed from the kitchen.

Time seemed to stand still. Yet, no further noise came from the door.

Amid the chaos—the screams, the roars, the despair—Thomas managed to hear something new. Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Moving away.

Thomas crept toward the window in the living room. Each step was accompanied by the faint creak of the floorboards, a sound that seemed to amplify in the oppressive silence of the house. His breath, short and strained with anxiety, blended with the distant sound of screams and guttural cries.

When he reached the edge of the window, he noticed a narrow gap, a small hole between the wooden shutters. He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest, but finally leaned slightly forward, squinting to peek outside.

And he saw them. Two figures loomed in front of the tavern. At least two meters tall, they were entirely encased in a thick layer of gray, rough ice, which seemed fused to the massive armor they wore. The ice covered every part of their bodies, creating the appearance of dragon-like men carved from stone and frost. Ice crests lined their shoulders, backs, and limbs, giving them an imposing and menacing air.

It wasn’t just their appearance that terrified him. There was something in the way they moved—heavy, yet uncannily fluid, like predators who had no need to rush.

Then, a new sound emerged—a sharp, rhythmic clicking.

Click-click-click.

The noise was irregular, almost insect-like, but Thomas knew it came from the beast on the roof. It sounded as if its jaws were snapping together, the sharp teeth clashing in a grotesque rhythm. Interspersed with the clicking were wet, viscous noises—gurgles and hisses that made his skin crawl.

Then came the screams. Horrific, desperate cries burst from the tavern. Some fell silent abruptly, like lives extinguished in an instant. But one voice rose above the others, a voice Thomas would recognize anywhere.

“Let me go! Let me go!” Lucy’s voice, cracking with terror.

Olivia, having hidden the children in a chest in the bedroom, rushed toward Thomas, who remained frozen at the living room window, his fists clenched and his knuckles white.

“Where is she?!” she whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. But Thomas didn’t answer.

Driven by fear, Olivia leaned closer to the window, sharing the small gap with him. Her breath caught as her eyes locked onto the scene outside.

One of the icy figures emerged from the tavern, dragging Lucy with it. It held her by the neck with one hand, lifting her like a rag doll. Lucy kicked frantically, her hands struggling in vain to break free from the iron grip. The creature stopped in the middle of the street, raising her even higher toward another figure watching from above.

The creatures exchanged guttural, incomprehensible words, their tones deep and jagged like the cracking of a glacier. Then, without warning, the figure on the ground ripped away the upper part of Lucy’s dress with a swift, brutal motion. The fabric tore with a dry sound, leaving the girl exposed to the cold and the unyielding gaze of the creatures.

Olivia couldn’t hold back anymore. She turned toward the door, determined to intervene. “I have to go! I can’t leave her there!” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears began streaming down her face.

“No!” Thomas stopped her before she could take a step. His hands gripped her shoulders, holding her in place. “You can’t… We can’t… We’d all die,” he whispered, his desperate tone trying to sound resolute. “Ben and Emily… they need us.”

Olivia struggled against his grasp, her sobs growing louder. “But it’s Lucy!” she gasped, trying to break free. Thomas didn’t let go. He pushed her back, away from the window, and wrapped his arms around her tightly to keep her from moving. “We can’t do anything…” he whispered, but his voice broke at the end.

When Olivia finally stopped resisting, Thomas returned to the window. He pressed his eye to the small gap, unable to look away. He didn’t want to see, but he had to know.

Lucy had been pushed against a barrel near the tavern. Her body trembled, her arms vainly trying to cover herself, while the creatures continued to speak in that monstrous language. Thomas could hear every word he couldn’t understand, every guttural sound that made his soul shiver.

Lucy screamed. Her voice was broken and desperate, but no one came to her aid.

Thomas repeated the same phrases to himself, over and over: We can’t do anything. I can’t risk everything for nothing. But other words crept into his mind, relentless: Coward. Craven. You’re afraid to die.

Each of Lucy’s screams was a blade slicing into him, breaking him apart piece by piece.

When it was over, Thomas saw the creature lift Lucy one last time. Its massive hands wrapped around her neck. The sound was brief—a simple snap. Like a branch breaking.

Thomas remained motionless, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. He felt Olivia’s heavy, broken breath behind him, but he couldn’t muster the strength to turn around. There was nothing left to say.