The manor was quiet as dawn broke, the early light casting long shadows across the stone walls. In the courtyard, Baron Aldric Roquefort prepared to leave, his face set with steely determination. He’d waited long enough, gathering the rarest and most powerful ingredients to ensure that his son, Arlan, could undergo the ancient therapy. But without the Ice Heart Herb, it would be incomplete. The herb, known for its neutralizing properties, was essential to counteract the dangerous potency of demon’s blood, one of the ingredients required to widen and fortify Arlan’s mana veins.

However, acquiring this herb was no easy feat. Rumors had spoken of it, a mythical plant that thrived in the coldest, most treacherous climates. And now, after weeks of searching and questioning, Aldric’s loyal knight and childhood friend, Zenith, had brought word of a possible location.

“There’s been a sighting, my lord,” Zenith had told him just the night before, his voice grave. “In the western mountains. The entire range is covered in ice, the temperature dropping far below anything our men have seen. It matches the descriptions of the Ice Heart Herb’s presence—a place where frost claims the land, and even the air itself is deadly cold.”

Aldric had listened, his face a mask of determination. He knew what this mission required, and he would not shy away from the danger. “Thank you, Zenith. Prepare yourself and two others. We leave at first light.”

As the men readied their gear, Lady Elara watched from the doorway, her expression both proud and concerned. She’d grown accustomed to Aldric’s bravery and the responsibilities that came with his title, but each time he departed, her heart felt the familiar ache of fear. This time, the risk was higher, and she could see it in his eyes—the cold, unyielding resolve to bring back this herb, no matter the cost.

“Be safe,” she whispered, her hand reaching for his. “Remember, Arlan needs you… and so do I.”

Aldric held her hand tightly, his face softening just for a moment. “I’ll return, Elara. Our son’s future depends on this, and I will not fail him. Zenith and the others are prepared. We’ll be back before you know it.”

With a final, reassuring nod, he left, the clinking of armor and crunch of boots on gravel marking the beginning of their journey.

The journey to the western mountains took days, and as they approached, the temperatures began to drop dramatically. Aldric, Zenith, and the two other knights—Harlan and Viktor, men known for their strength and loyalty—pressed onward, their breath visible in the cold air as they climbed higher.

Finally, they reached the base of the icy mountains, a place that seemed almost otherworldly. Frost coated every surface, and the very ground seemed to hum with a strange, chilling energy. The tales had not exaggerated; here, the cold was so intense that even the hardiest of men would be tested. They’d brought heavy furs, but even those seemed to offer little protection from the biting air.

“This place…” Zenith murmured, his gaze scanning the frozen landscape. “It feels as though death itself lingers here.”

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Aldric nodded, his eyes sharp as he surveyed their surroundings. “Stay alert. The herb is here, I can feel it. But so, too, is the danger.”

With cautious steps, they began their ascent, each man feeling the weight of the task before them. The path grew steeper, the air thinner, and the cold seemed to seep into their bones. Yet Aldric’s resolve was unwavering. Every step he took was a testament to his determination to secure his son’s future.

Just as dusk began to settle over the frozen landscape, Aldric and his knights reached a plateau where the temperature seemed to plummet further. The air was thin, frigid, and laced with a sense of foreboding, pressing down on them with an unseen weight. In the center of the clearing, nestled amidst layers of frost, they saw it—the Ice Heart Herb. Its leaves glistened like crystal shards, glowing faintly blue, as if it held the essence of winter itself.

Aldric took a step forward, eyes locked on the herb, the culmination of his journey. But as he did, a low, resonant rumble echoed through the frozen landscape, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet.

“What was that?” muttered Harlan, his voice trembling as his gaze darted around the icy expanse.

The ground trembled again, the rumbling sound growing louder, reverberating through the frozen cliffs around them. Aldric’s eyes shifted, scanning the shadows that clung to the mountainside. And then, he saw it—a massive, ancient form embedded within the ice itself, its scales gleaming in the fading light, covered with frost and glistening as though part of the mountain itself.

A monstrous head, larger than any creature Aldric had ever seen, was partially encased in ice. Its scales shimmered with an unnatural, spectral blue, and two massive horns curved back from its skull, covered in frost. From its snout to the thick armor plating along its body, the creature looked like it had been asleep for centuries, frozen in time… but now it was stirring.

Aldric felt Zenith’s hand on his arm, his loyal friend’s voice a low, urgent whisper. “My lord… that’s a Demonic Ice Dragon.”

Aldric’s breath caught. He’d heard of these beasts in legends, creatures of ancient power and malevolence that resided in only the harshest, most inhospitable places. They were said to guard places of great magic, drawn to such locations like moths to flame. And now, it was clear that this dragon had claimed the Ice Heart Herb’s territory as its own.

The dragon’s eyelids, frosted over yet fierce, slowly opened, revealing slitted pupils that glowed a dark, icy blue. Its gaze settled on the intruders, a flicker of curiosity and malice in those ancient, calculating eyes. The ground beneath their feet shook once more as the dragon let out a slow, deep exhale, the breath forming a mist that froze into tiny ice crystals in the air.

“Stand your ground,” Aldric commanded, his voice barely more than a whisper, his heart pounding in his chest.

The dragon’s massive tail twitched, cracking through layers of ice, and its nostrils flared, sending out another plume of frost that swept over the plateau. The sheer size and presence of the beast dwarfed everything around it. Aldric’s eyes narrowed as he met the dragon’s gaze, feeling the primal force radiating from it. He knew that retrieving the herb would mean facing this ancient guardian.

The dragon’s mouth opened slightly, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth coated in frost. With a low, rumbling growl that shook the ground, it slowly began to lift its head, the ice encasing it cracking and shattering.

Aldric gripped his sword, exchanging a silent look with Zenith and the others. They knew that escape was not an option. The dragon would not let them leave so easily.