The Eternal Glacier.

A vast, frozen monolith stretched endlessly into the sky, its surface a jagged expanse of permafrost sculpted by time itself.

The Eternal Glacier—a relic of an age long forgotten—loomed in eerie silence. Its very essence pulsed with unnatural energy, as if the ice itself breathed.

At its core, hidden beneath layers of ancient frost, lay two hearts, hollow and unknowable, throbbing with void-like energy. As the larger heart quivered, a rift split open in its center—a portal forming with a deep, resonant hum.

WUUUHHHMMM

The air trembled. A shimmer of space-time wavered before stabilizing into a perfect, circular abyss. From within, two figures emerged.

The first man stepped forward with unhurried grace. His long, flowing hair was as white as the ice around him, yet it held a luster that set it apart from the lifeless frost.

His pale eyes, nearly identical in hue, burned with an intensity that made them unmistakable—sharp and piercing, as if they could pierce through reality itself, searching for something unseen.

His robes, once pristine, were now tattered at the edges, but the intricate patterns etched into the fabric remained untouched—delicate, almost fractal, like frost blooming across glass.

The glacier’s cold was absolute, pressing in from all sides, yet he moved, unaffected, as if he belonged to a world beyond its reach.

Behind him, a second figure followed—a stark contrast. Broad-shouldered and battle-hardened, the bald man bore countless scars crisscrossing his body, each telling a story of survival.

His sheer presence radiated power, his movements deliberate and controlled, like a predator that had long mastered patience.

The portal behind them let out one final thrum before sealing shut, leaving nothing but the suffocating silence of the glacier’s hollowed core.

The white-haired man’s voice broke the quiet.

"Are you certain this is the place, Vzrikal?" His tone was composed, yet there was an underlying edge of expectation.

Vzrikal—his trusted disciple, seasoned warrior, and relentless seeker of knowledge—nodded firmly.

"Yes, Master Zephiron. We've finally reached the greater heart of the Eternal Glacier. If our sources are correct, the Azurefrost Shard should be here." His voice carried confidence, but also a wary respect for the ancient forces they were about to disturb.

Zephiron glanced around, his expression unreadable. The glacier’s walls gleamed with an unnatural brilliance, veins of azure energy coursing through the ice.

They were walking inside something that was not just frozen terrain—but something distinct.

The air here was dense, heavier than it should have been. It clung to their skin, carrying a presence that was neither sharp nor gentle.

"I've heard whispers of this place," Zephiron murmured, brushing his fingertips against the frozen surface. "A prison of time, sealed by ice that has never known warmth. If the shard rests here, it is because it was never meant to be found."

Vzrikal smirked slightly, crossing his thick arms. "Then it's a good thing we don’t care about what was ‘meant to be.’"

Zephiron turned to his disciple, the corners of his lips lifting in a shadow of amusement. "Indeed. Fate bends to those who have the will to shape it."

A sudden shift in the glacier’s depths made the ground beneath them tremble. A distant crack echoed through the cavernous expanse. Something stirred.

Stolen novel; please report.

Vzrikal narrowed his eyes, scanning the surrounding ice. "We are not the first to seek it. The markings on the outer layers—there were others before us."

Zephiron finally turned to him. "And where are they now?"

Vzrikal clenched his jaw. "Gone. No remains, no signs of struggle. Just... gone."

Zephiron smiled faintly. "Then let us ensure we do not share their fate." He took another step, this time pressing his palm against a nearby ice wall. For a moment, nothing happened—then the ice pulsed. A faint ripple spread outward, vanishing into the depths of the glacier.

Vzrikal tensed. "Master, What did you—"

A deep, resonating hum filled the cavern. The ice groaned louder now, like something stirring beneath their feet. Then, from the heart of the glacier, a pulse of light flickered—just once.

Zephiron lowered his hand, his smile widening. "We are close."

Vzrikal’s hand instinctively went to the weapon strapped to his back, a heavy blade with jagged etchings of an ancient language. "We should move. If something else is protecting the shard, I’d rather not be caught standing here like fools."

Zephiron nodded, his gaze flickering towards the darkness ahead. "Then let’s retrieve what is ours."

Without hesitation, the two pressed forward into the unknown, their figures vanishing into the glacier’s depths—where secrets of ice and void awaited them.

***

The captain and the RiftWalkers pressed forward without pause, carving a path through the relentless onslaught of Rimecrawlers lurking within the caverns.

They were not here for these lesser foes—their eyes remained locked on the ultimate prize that awaited them.

They had encountered other creatures as well—things lurking in the deeper tunnels, twisted by the cold.

Some had once been living beasts, now fused with the ice itself, their bodies half-frozen, their flesh hardened like stone.

Their bones had become jagged with frost, encased in crystalline growths that shimmered in the dim light.

And some moved unnaturally, their limbs stiff yet eerily fluid, as if controlled by the ice itself.

But none stood a chance against the RiftWalkers.

The captain never faltered.

With each battle, their path became clearer, until finally—the end of the maw revealed itself.

The cave’s walls widened, the tunnel opening into a vast, frozen plain.

They had finally reached the surface.

The wind howled as they stepped out onto the bare ground of ice. The air was sharp, the cold no longer just biting but pressing—a weight upon their skin.

The captain was the first to step forward, his gaze sweeping above themselves.

From where they had started, that same cliff stretched high, leveling with the skies.

But none of it mattered.

Because before them, in the distance, stood the Eternal Glacier.

It loomed over the land like an unshaken behemoth, its presence undeniable.

The captain narrowed his eyes, scanning the icy horizon. His instincts sharpened like a blade, and without hesitation, he spoke.

"If we’re going to find the Rift Core, it’s inside that thing." His voice carried no doubt—just certainty.

Ezra let out a low whistle, crossing his arms. "Hate to break it to you, Captain, but that thing looks like it eats people for breakfast. You sure it’s not just a giant tombstone for the last idiots who tried?”

Cane chuckled, tapping the hilt of his blade. "If it is, we might as well carve our names into it now. ‘Here lies Cane, Ezra, and our fearless Captain—devoured by an overgrown ice cube.’"

The captain exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "If you two are done auditioning for the world’s worst comedy duo, we have a Rift Core to find."

Ezra smirked. "You wound me, Captain. Our humor is all that stands between us and insanity in this frozen hellhole."

Cane nodded sagely. "Exactly. Laughter keeps the frostbite away. That, and fire. Shame we don’t have either in abundance."

The captain rolled his eyes, but a small smirk ghosted across his lips. Even in the face of uncertainty, their ability to keep things light was an asset.

The captain, glanced over his shoulder. “You two could just stop talking for five minutes.”

Ezra smirked. “Five minutes of silence? In this frozen wasteland? That’s how people go insane, Captain.”

Cain nodded sagely. “Exactly. If something doesn’t try to kill us soon, I might just start talking to the ice.”

The captain sighed, shaking his head. “Then let’s hope the ice talks back.”

With a final glance at the glacier, he turned. "Let’s move."

The ground ahead was a barren stretch of ice, a frozen plain leading straight to the base of the glacier. No cover, no natural formations—just open space, leaving them exposed.

The wind howled in a low whisper as a voice stirred from deep within the glacier, a sign that someone had just unleashed their energy upon it.

Ezra adjusted his coat, unease flickering in his eyes. "I don’t like this. Feels too exposed."

He wasn’t wrong. They were standing in something’s domain.

"It is." The captain agreed. "Stay alert."

They moved forward, boots sinking slightly into the icy crust. The glacier loomed closer with every step, its surface reflecting the pale sky above. Something about it felt... unnatural. Not just ice. Something older.

The captain’s expression remained unreadable, but there was the faintest glint in his eyes.

“This won’t be simple,” he said.

The wind howled again.

From within the glacier, something groaned.

A deep, ancient sound.

The group halted.

Ezra’s grip on his shield tightened. “Tell me that was the ice shifting.”

Cain’s smirk faded slightly. “Or something waking up.”

The captain didn’t hesitate.

He took the first step forward.

And the RiftWalkers followed.