Light.

Layers upon layers of ethereal radiance, cascading endlessly in his mind. It shimmered, neither cold nor warm, a presence that existed beyond sensation.

One side of the sky poured it forth, an unyielding torrent of brilliance, yet in the distance, the Eternal Glacier loomed—an obsidian wall swallowing the glow, bending it to its will.

David exhaled, his breath misting before him as he gazed upon the sight.

This was different from the light he had once glimpsed in his darkest hour, the light that had brushed against his soul when all had seemed lost.

That had been a moment of desperation. This was a moment of clarity.

If this was merely the physical manifestation of light, then what of the other—the one he had glimpsed?

The light that wasn’t bound by form or distance.

The one that could pierce through the depths of his despair, the misery of his existence.

The one powerful enough to shatter the darkness entirely.

Light would always overcome darkness.

That realization settled within him, not as an epiphany but as a fundamental truth—his core, his conviction.

It was the foundation upon which he stood, the very base of the path he had chosen.

He waited for a brief moment and closed his eyes as a hush settled over his thoughts. Then, with a steady breath, he clenched his fists, feeling the reassuring weight of his existence, and took a step forward.

***

The silence was absolute.

The bigger heart of this place was no mere glacier. It was something far older, something carved from the bones of winter itself.

Zephiron stood at the precipice of the great frozen chasm, his gaze locked onto the colossal structure before them. The air crackled with an eerie stillness, the cold biting deep, yet his focus remained unwavering.

Suspended high above, encased in layers of unyielding frost, pulsed the Azurefrost Shard. A crystalline fragment of impossible beauty, it shimmered with an unnatural glow, twisting the very space around it.

The sheer pressure of its presence sent a whisper through the fabric of reality.

Azrikal took a step forward, his breath visible in the frigid air. "Master... is this truly it?" His voice held reverence, yet there was an undercurrent of unease.

Zephiron did not answer immediately. Instead, he lifted a hand, feeling the currents of power swirling around the shard.

His silver eyes reflected the glacial radiance as he finally spoke. "The Azurefrost Shard... untouched for centuries. It is no mere relic, Azrikal. It is a force unto itself."

Azrikal clenched his fists. "Then taking it won't be simple."

A faint smile ghosted Zephiron’s lips. "Nothing worth having ever is." His tone was calm, but his stance shifted ever so slightly—poised, expectant.

Azrikal remained at his master’s side, his posture tensing as an unseen weight pressed down on him. The shard’s presence was suffocating, its energy curling around his very being like invisible tendrils, prying, searching.

"Master, this place... it resists us," he muttered, his breath visible in the frozen air.

Zephiron inclined his head slightly, his voice calm and measured. "Not us, Azrikal. It resists the unworthy."

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Azrikal tightened his grip on his weapon, understanding the unspoken challenge. Before them lay a structure—no, a throne—of solid ice, rising from the ground like the jagged spine of some long-forgotten colossus.

And upon that throne, frozen in a slumber as ancient as the glacier itself, lay their adversary.

A monstrous form, its body forged from glacial stone and permafrost, slumbered beneath the azure light. Towering in size, its shape was vaguely lupine, though twisted into something unnatural.

Its jagged maw was lined with icicle fangs, and from its core radiated the same frigid energy that encased the shard above.

Zephiron’s gaze remained steady, his voice carrying an air of knowing authority. "This is Svarog, the Behemoth of Everfrost, a remnant of an age where such creatures roamed freely. Its eyes, twin abysses of void-like frost, fix upon the intruders."

Azrikal took a step forward. "And what of the guardian? If the shard is protected, then we—"

The creature stirred.

A sound, deep and primal, resonated through the ice, reverberating through the vast expanse. The throne cracked. The glacier trembled. Then, with a violent shudder, the Behemoth of Everfrost awoke.

The very air erupted in a violent storm of frost and howling wind as the guardian’s hollow eyes snapped open, their glow an abyss of endless winter.

With a deafening crack, its frozen form lurched forward, breaking free from the throne’s embrace. Shards of ice rained down like glass, and in a single motion, it moved.

Azrikal barely had time to react.

A massive claw scythed through the air, a blurred specter of death. Zephiron did not move. But before the strike could land, Azrikal wove into the shadows, his form flickering away from the attack.

The behemoth’s strike shattered the ice where he had just stood, sending frozen fragments spiraling into the air.

"Master, this thing—"

"Its form is strength, but its will is fractured," Zephiron interjected, his tone never rising. He observed the guardian as if studying a relic rather than an enemy. "It clings to purpose, yet it is bound to its prison. It is neither truly alive nor truly dead."

Azrikal exhaled, his blade wreathed in abyssal energy. "Then we free it the only way we know how."

Zephiron gave the slightest nod. "As you will, my disciple. But do not falter. Its heart remains untouched by time."

The guardian lunged, the very air crystallizing in its wake. Its sheer presence distorted reality, freezing the space it moved through.

The moment Svarog charged, the temperature plummeted instantly, frost creeping over the ground in an expanding wave.

Zephiron reacted first, harnessing a surge of spatial force with a swift motion. The air distorted around him before unraveling into a spiraling torrent of energy that surged forward, crashing into Svarog’s chest.

The attack barely fazed it. The Behemoth vanished in a blur—far faster than its colossal form suggested—reappearing behind Azrikal.

Azrikal barely managed to raise a barrier, but the behemoth's claws ripped through it like parchment, sending him skidding across the ice.

Zephiron exhaled, unshaken. "You should have anticipated that, Azrikal."

Azrikal growled but rose. "I did. I just wanted to see how it moves."

Svarog opens its maw, revealing a swirling vortex of compressed frost energy. Before it can unleash its breath, Zephiron raises a hand, channeling a surge of spatial force that bends the air around him.

The next instant, he is above the Behemoth, striking down with a spear of pure energy. The attack rips into the behemoth’s back, but instead of blood, it regenerates instantly—its wounds reknitting with crystalline ice.

Azrikal struck next.

His blade cleaved through the creature’s side, abyssal energy tearing at its frozen flesh.

But the wound did not bleed—it regrew instantly, ice knitting itself back together as if the very laws of nature refused to let the guardian die.

Azrikal clicked his tongue in frustration. "It heals. Faster than it should."

"Because it is not truly alive," Zephiron mused. He lifted a single hand, and the air around them warped again. "You know where to strike."

Azrikal’s eyes flicked to the behemoth’s core, pulsing beneath its chest—a crystalline heart, encased in layers of enchanted frost.

"I see it."

"Then do not waste time."

The behemoth roared, an avalanche of frost bursting forth from its maw. Azrikal dove through the storm, the abyssal flame of his blade cutting through the ice.

The behemoth swiped, but he was already beneath it, a mere flicker of movement in its vast shadow. His strike landed—the core was exposed.

Zephiron’s fingers twitched, and a final surge of power erupted, distorting the air around him.

Reality twisted.

The core collapsed inward, a gravitational singularity forming within it. The behemoth froze—its form buckling, cracking, shattering.

A deafening silence followed.

The battlefield was silent. The storm had faded, the ice no longer howling in protest. Svarog had fallen, and only the Azurefrost Shard remained, suspended in the air like a frozen heart, pulsing with an eerie glow.

Azrikal stepped forward, drawn to its presence. As his fingers neared the shard, a biting chill surged through his arm, latching onto his very essence. He gasped, his breath crystallizing midair.

Zephiron remained still, his gaze sharp. “It’s testing you. Show weakness, and it will shatter you from within.”

Azrikal clenched his jaw, fighting against the ice creeping through his veins. “Master… and if I refuse it?”

Zephiron exhaled, his tone unreadable. “Then you’ll wish you had never touched it.”

Then, Zephiron’s eyes narrowed as he sensed another presence drawing near.

“This place isn’t done with us yet.”