The morning came sharp and cold, the wind biting at my face as we left the Ironhowl camp behind. The two warriors Serek had assigned to us, Toren and Ryla, walked ahead, their presence a constant reminder that we were treading on borrowed trust.

Toren was broad-shouldered and grim, his beard streaked with silver, and his axe strapped to his back gleamed with meticulous care. Ryla was quieter, lean and wiry, her sharp eyes constantly scanning the terrain as we made our way north.

“Remember,” Jessa said as we descended into the narrow valley below the Ironhowl stronghold, “Kordek won’t welcome us. The Frostblades may not attack on sight, but they’ll want to know why we’re there.”

Farron adjusted the quiver on his back, his tone light despite the tension. “So, charm them with words first, fight them second. Got it.”

“Don’t joke,” Orin said, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife. “The Frostblades are dangerous, and Kordek is no fool. If we make one wrong move, we’ll be leaving his lands in pieces.”

“No pressure,” I muttered under my breath.

The journey was grueling. The narrow mountain paths were steep and treacherous, the rocks slick with frost and loose beneath our boots. The wind howled through the cliffs, carrying with it faint whispers that set my nerves on edge.

“Keep moving,” Toren said gruffly, his voice barely audible over the wind. “The Frostblade border isn’t far.”

“How do they even survive out here?” I asked, glancing at Jessa.

“The Frostblades have adapted,” she said. “They’re used to harsh terrain and harsher winters. These mountains are their home, and they know every inch of them.”

“Which means they’re probably watching us already,” Farron added, his eyes scanning the cliffs.

“Good,” Jessa said. “It’ll save us the trouble of announcing ourselves.”

We reached the Frostblade border by midday. The terrain flattened slightly, giving way to a series of jagged stone outcroppings that formed natural barriers.

Carved into the largest of these stones was a symbol: a jagged blade crossed with a spear, surrounded by runes etched deep into the rock.

Toren stopped, his expression grim. “This is it. Frostblade territory.”

“We wait here,” Ryla added, her voice quiet but firm. “They’ll come to us.”

“And if they don’t?” Farron asked.

“They will,” Toren said simply.

We didn’t have to wait long.

The sound of crunching snow echoed through the pass, followed by the faint shimmer of movement. A dozen figures emerged from the shadows, their fur-lined armor blending seamlessly with the rocky terrain.

At their head was a man who could only be Kordek.

He was tall and imposing, his fur cloak billowing in the wind, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to cut through the air like shards of ice. He carried a massive spear, its blade etched with runes that glowed faintly in the dim light.

He stopped a few paces from us, his warriors fanning out behind him in a semicircle.

“You tread on Frostblade land,” Kordek said, his voice low and even. “Speak quickly, or turn back.”

Jessa stepped forward, her hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace. “We come with a message from Serek of the Ironhowl.”

At the mention of Serek’s name, Kordek’s expression darkened. “Serek. The Ironhowl has always been predictable.”

“We’re not here to debate his motives,” Jessa said. “We’re here because Ecclesion is moving closer to these lands, and if we don’t act together, none of us will survive.”

Kordek studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then his gaze shifted to me.

“And you?” he asked. “You’re no clan warrior. What is your role in this?”

“I’m the Chosen One,” I said, my voice steady despite the knot in my stomach. “I’m trying to stop Ecclesion at its source. But I can’t do it alone.”

His lips twisted into a faint sneer. “The Chosen One. Another of Serek’s stories, no doubt. A convenient title for someone seeking allies.”

“It’s not just a title,” I said. “Ecclesion’s power comes from the Nexuses—ancient places of power that they’ve claimed as their own. If we can sever their ties to the Nexuses, we can weaken them. Maybe even destroy them.”

“And you expect the Frostblades to risk their lives for your cause?” Kordek asked, his voice cold. “Why should we believe you?”

Before I could respond, Ryla stepped forward. “Because Ecclesion will come for you next,” she said. “You know it as well as we do. They won’t stop until everything is under their control.”

Kordek’s eyes narrowed. “And you believe this boy can stop them?”

“I believe it’s worth the risk,” she said firmly.

Kordek turned to his warriors, who murmured among themselves, their voices low but intense. Then he faced us again, his spear planted firmly in the snow.

“Words are easy,” he said. “But they mean nothing without proof. If you wish to earn the Frostblades’ trust, you must prove your worth.”

“And how do we do that?” Jessa asked.

“There is a shrine,” Kordek said. “An ancient place deep in the mountains. It holds something that we value greatly, but Ecclesion’s agents have claimed it. They use it to spread their influence into our lands.”

He stepped closer, his piercing gaze fixed on me.

“Take back the shrine,” he said. “Destroy Ecclesion’s presence there, and the Frostblades will listen to what you have to say.”

The challenge was clear, but the stakes couldn’t have been higher.

“Where is the shrine?” I asked, gripping my dagger tightly.

Kordek gestured to the jagged peaks in the distance. “Two days’ journey from here, through dangerous terrain. Ecclesion’s forces will not make it easy.”

“Nothing ever is,” I said, my voice steady.

“Good,” Kordek said with a faint smirk. “Perhaps you’re not as weak as you look.”

As we left the Frostblade camp, the weight of the task ahead settled heavily on my shoulders.

“Take back a shrine,” Farron said, shaking his head. “Sure, why not? It’s not like we’re not already on a suicide mission.”

“It’s our only option,” Jessa said. “If we can earn the Frostblades’ trust, we might have a chance of uniting the clans.”

“And if we don’t?” Orin asked.

“Then we’ll be dead,” she said simply.

The wind howled as we made camp that night, the mountains looming over us like silent sentinels.

I stared into the fire, my mind racing with the enormity of what lay ahead. The shrine wasn’t just another obstacle—it was a test. A chance to prove to the Frostblades—and to myself—that this mission wasn’t just a fool’s errand.

But Ecclesion wouldn’t let it go without a fight.

As the flames flickered, I tightened my grip on my dagger, the faint hum of its energy vibrating in my hand.

No turning back now.

The night pressed heavily against us, the cold mountain air gnawing at exposed skin as we huddled around the small fire. The flames flickered weakly, struggling against the wind that whipped through the narrow pass.

Jessa sat cross-legged near the fire, sharpening her blade with slow, deliberate strokes. Orin was on watch a few paces away, his form a dark silhouette against the jagged rocks. Farron leaned back against his pack, chewing on a strip of dried meat.

I couldn’t stop staring into the flames, my thoughts consumed by the task ahead.

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“We’ve done some risky things,” Farron said, breaking the silence. “But storming a shrine guarded by Ecclesion’s goons? That’s a new level of madness.”

“They wouldn’t have taken it lightly,” Jessa said, not looking up from her blade. “If Ecclesion is holding the shrine, they see it as valuable. That means it’s tied to their power somehow.”

“Or they just don’t want the Frostblades to have it,” Orin said, his voice low. “Either way, it won’t be undefended.”

I nodded, the knot in my stomach tightening. “How many do you think we’re up against?”

“At least a squad,” Jessa said. “Maybe more. And they’ll be entrenched.”

“Fantastic,” Farron muttered. “I’ll start planning my last words now.”

Toren and Ryla, the Ironhowl warriors who had joined us, sat a little apart from the rest of the group. Their stoic silence was unsettling, their eyes watchful as they scanned the darkness beyond the firelight.

“Will the Frostblades actually keep their word?” I asked, lowering my voice so only Jessa could hear.

“They will,” she said firmly. “If we succeed. The clans might seem chaotic, but their leaders value honor. Kordek won’t go back on his word if we prove ourselves.”

“And if we fail?”

“Then it won’t matter,” she said, her tone cold.

The fire burned low as we prepared to rest, our breath fogging in the icy air. I volunteered for the first watch, though my exhaustion threatened to pull me under.

As the others settled in, Toren approached, his heavy boots crunching softly on the rocky ground.

“You fight well for someone who looks like the wind could blow him over,” he said, his gruff voice carrying no malice.

“Thanks,” I said, unsure if it was a compliment or an insult.

He crouched beside me, his eyes fixed on the distant peaks. “The shrine is sacred to the Frostblades,” he said. “It’s older than their clan, older than the clans themselves. Whatever Ecclesion wants there, it’s dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “Places like that carry power. Not the kind Ecclesion preaches about, but real power. Ancient and raw. They corrupt those who don’t respect them.”

“Then why are we going there?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Because sometimes the only way to fight corruption is to walk through it,” he said.

The morning came harsh and bright, the sun casting long shadows over the jagged terrain. We broke camp quickly, the cold spurring us to keep moving.

The path to the shrine grew steeper, the air thinner with every step. The terrain was unforgiving, the rocks slick with frost and loose underfoot.

“How much farther?” Farron asked, panting slightly.

“Not far,” Ryla said, her voice barely audible over the wind. “The shrine is at the base of that ridge.”

She pointed to a jagged cliff in the distance, its peak crowned with spires of dark stone.

“It doesn’t look welcoming,” I muttered.

“It isn’t,” Ryla said.

We approached cautiously, sticking to the shadows as the shrine came into view.

It was a massive structure, carved directly into the mountainside. The entrance was a towering archway, its surface covered in faintly glowing runes. The air was heavy with the hum of energy, the same oppressive sensation I’d felt at the Nexus.

Ecclesion’s presence was unmistakable.

Two guards stood at the entrance, their gleaming armor catching the light. Farther up the slope, a handful of soldiers moved between crude barricades, their weapons at the ready.

“Looks like they’ve dug in,” Jessa whispered, her eyes narrowing.

“Fantastic,” Farron muttered. “They’re probably just dying to meet us.”

We huddled behind a rocky outcrop, planning our approach.

“We need to take out those guards quietly,” Jessa said. “If we alert the rest of the camp, we’ll be overrun.”

“I’ll handle it,” Orin said, his voice calm. “Give me cover, and I’ll get close enough to take them down.”

Jessa nodded, then turned to me. “Ash, you’ll move with Orin. Use your abilities to keep the guards distracted if anything goes wrong.”

“Got it,” I said, gripping my dagger tightly.

“Toren, Ryla, Farron, and I will take the flanks,” Jessa continued. “Once the guards are down, we’ll push forward and clear the barricades.”

“Simple,” Farron said, smirking. “What could possibly go wrong?”

The first part of the plan went smoothly. Orin moved like a shadow, his steps silent as he crept toward the guards. I followed at a distance, the hum of Shadow Veil vibrating faintly in my ears as I cloaked myself in its protective shroud.

Orin reached the first guard and struck swiftly, his knife slicing across the man’s throat before he could make a sound. The second guard turned, his eyes widening in alarm, but Orin was faster. He drove his knife into the man’s chest, lowering him to the ground as his body went limp.

I exhaled slowly, my grip on the dagger relaxing slightly.

“Nice work,” I whispered.

“Not done yet,” Orin said, his eyes scanning the camp.

The next phase was chaos.

Jessa’s group moved in from the flanks, Farron’s arrows taking down two soldiers before they even realized we were there. Toren and Ryla charged in with brutal efficiency, their weapons cutting through the remaining defenders like scythes through grass.

I stayed close to Orin, using Shadow Step to disorient a pair of soldiers who had spotted us. Orin finished them quickly, his movements precise and lethal.

By the time the dust settled, the path to the shrine was clear.

We regrouped at the entrance, our breaths fogging in the cold air. The glow of the runes on the archway was stronger now, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.

“This is it,” Jessa said, her voice steady. “Whatever Ecclesion is doing here, it’s inside.”

“Then let’s stop them,” I said, stepping forward.

As we crossed the threshold, the air grew heavier, the hum of energy intensifying with every step. The darkness inside the shrine was absolute, broken only by the faint glow of the runes that lined the walls.

I gripped my dagger tightly, my heart pounding as we descended deeper into the mountain.

The shrine was waiting.

And so was something else.

The interior of the shrine pressed against us with a suffocating weight, the oppressive energy thick enough to feel like a physical force. The faint glow of the runes along the walls pulsed rhythmically, casting distorted shadows that seemed to writhe like living things.

Every step echoed through the vast, silent chamber, the sound swallowed quickly by the darkness.

“I don’t like this,” Farron whispered, his voice barely audible.

“You’re not supposed to,” Jessa said, her eyes scanning the runes. “This place wasn’t built to be welcoming.”

I glanced at Toren and Ryla, who moved silently, their weapons ready. Their expressions were grim, their focus unshaken despite the eerie atmosphere.

“It’s not just the energy,” I said, my voice low. “This place feels... wrong.”

“That’s the power of the shrine,” Toren said without looking back. “It was never meant for mortals to wield. Ecclesion’s presence here only makes it worse.”

As we descended deeper into the shrine, the path opened into a massive chamber. The walls stretched high above us, disappearing into darkness, and the floor was etched with intricate patterns of runes that spiraled toward the center of the room.

At the heart of the chamber stood a towering obelisk, its surface covered in glowing symbols that pulsed in sync with the runes on the floor. Surrounding it were several Ecclesion soldiers, their gleaming armor stark against the dim light.

Near the obelisk stood a figure clad in robes, their back turned to us. They raised their hands, chanting softly, and the energy in the room seemed to ripple in response.

“What’s he doing?” I whispered.

“Something bad,” Jessa said, her voice tight.

Ryla crouched, her hand on her bow. “We need to move before he finishes whatever that is.”

“Agreed,” Jessa said. She glanced at me, her eyes sharp. “Ash, you’re going for the obelisk. Whatever they’re doing, it’s tied to that. If we can disrupt it, we can break their control over the shrine.”

“And the soldiers?” I asked, gripping my dagger tightly.

“We’ll handle them,” Toren said. “But you need to move quickly.”

“No pressure,” Farron muttered, nocking an arrow.

The plan fell apart almost immediately.

We moved in silently, taking out the first two soldiers without alerting the others. But one of them fell against the obelisk, the clash of metal against stone echoing through the chamber.

The robed figure turned, their face obscured by a hood, and raised their hand. The runes on the obelisk flared brighter, and a surge of energy rippled outward, knocking us off our feet.

“Defilers!” the figure shouted, their voice echoing unnaturally. “You dare trespass in the sacred halls of the Eternal Light?”

“Looks like they know we’re here,” Farron said, scrambling to his feet.

“No kidding,” I muttered, my ears ringing.

The soldiers moved quickly, forming a defensive line between us and the obelisk. Jessa and Toren charged in, their blades clashing against Ecclesion’s shields. Farron loosed arrow after arrow, each one finding its mark with deadly precision, while Ryla moved to flank the soldiers.

I activated Shadow Veil, the familiar hum enveloping me as the world shifted slightly. The runes on the obelisk pulsed erratically, as if reacting to the ability, and I darted toward it, using the shadows to obscure my movements.

The robed figure turned toward me, their hand raised. A bolt of searing light shot from their palm, barely missing me as I dodged to the side.

“You cannot stop what has already begun,” they said, their voice resonating with an unnatural tone.

“We’ll see about that,” I said, summoning Shadow Step to close the distance.

The obelisk pulsed violently as I reached it, the energy radiating from it nearly knocking me off balance. My dagger vibrated in my hand, the runes on its blade flaring brighter as I plunged it into the surface of the obelisk.

The impact sent a shockwave through the chamber, the runes on the floor flickering wildly. The robed figure screamed, their chant breaking as they staggered back.

“What did you do?” they shouted, their voice laced with panic.

“Improvising,” I said, pulling the dagger free.

The obelisk cracked, dark energy seeping from the fissures as the runes on its surface began to dim.

The soldiers faltered, their formation breaking as the energy in the room shifted. Jessa took advantage of the moment, cutting down two of them in quick succession, while Toren’s axe cleaved through another.

The robed figure raised their hands again, but this time, their spell faltered. The energy they tried to summon dissipated, leaving them vulnerable.

I stepped forward, my dagger still humming with power. “It’s over,” I said.

“You think this changes anything?” the figure spat, their voice trembling. “The Light Eternal cannot be stopped. You are nothing but shadows against the sun.”

“Then you’ve never been in a blackout,” I said, plunging the dagger into their chest.

They collapsed, their body crumpling to the ground as the remaining soldiers fled, their morale broken.

The chamber grew eerily quiet, the oppressive energy fading as the obelisk’s light dimmed completely.

“Is it done?” Farron asked, his voice echoing in the silence.

“For now,” Jessa said, lowering her blade. “But we need to move. Ecclesion will know we’ve been here.”

I stared at the cracked obelisk, the weight of what we’d just done settling heavily on my shoulders.

This was just one shrine. One victory in a war that felt impossibly large.

But it was a start.

As we left the chamber, the cold mountain air hit me like a slap, but it was a welcome change from the suffocating energy inside.

Toren clapped me on the back, his expression grim but approving. “You did well, Chosen One. Kordek will hear of this.”

“Let’s hope he listens,” I said, my exhaustion creeping into my voice.

Jessa nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “One step at a time.”

As we descended from the shrine, I couldn’t help but glance back at the towering obelisk, now dark and silent.

It was a victory, but Ecclesion wouldn’t take it lightly