Chapter 1:

Winter's End

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Prince Astellar, the hero of the battle for Demon Strait, and heir to the throne of Ash felt conflicted. Walking beneath the gaze of the colossal statues, the prince felt like a trespasser to an age long past.

The statues had caught his eye. They stood ever-vigilant, guarding between them the gates of an ancient stronghold. The remnants of a darker time.

There were legends told about the castle of Winter's End. How it was the last seat of the primordial kings. Never for once did it fell, from neither man or god. After finally having a good look at the castle, the General finally understood why.

The castle stood proudly at the summit of a mountain. Its spires jut out from the heavy mists like spears poised to pierce the heavens themselves. The decrepit walls stood testament to the heavy blows that time had inflicted. A chilling, ghost-like shroud envelops the area.

To state that the trek upwards had been rigorous was an understatement. Despite the stone steps and the tranquil weather, their journey had been anything but. Even at the base of the mountain, Prince Astellar had felt a growing pit in his stomach. A strange anticipation built up from the back of his mind.

After a month of frolicking through the north, they had finally reached the enemy's gates.

An ancient wind blew from the heavens above. Carrying with it the stench of blood and death mixed with the scent of flowers in a morning field.

Change is coming, and Prince Astellar found himself standing in the eye of the storm. The only question left is whether he'd be able to weather the worst of it.

"My lord," Astellar felt a hand on his shoulder. "Scouts reported seeing nothing in or out of the castle." The voice belonged to Vernier. General Vernier, he's called now.

Astellar did not respond right away. Instead, he leveled his gaze through the mists to glare on the castle whose shadow loomed above them.

"Act with caution, General." He said.

The prince turned his head to the sound of approaching footsteps. It appeared Vernier had gestured for his lieutenants to approach.

"Tell the men to stay on their guard," Vernier ordered. "Be wary of any movement from the castle, regardless of how small. I want our sentries alert and ready to holler, do you understand?"

The lieutenants nodded and left to relay their General's orders.

Vernier returned to Astellar's side moments later, "It's quiet. Too quiet. I expected this place to be swarming with beastmen right about now."

Astellar agreed to his friend's assessment of the situation. It is alarming how calm what supposed to be their enemy's final line of defense. Almost like the calm before a--

"My lord, look up!"

And true enough, grey clouds converged above their location. Astellar watched in awed silence to the display of power over nature.

"Sorcery!!!" Astellar warned, but it was too late.

It started off as a gust of wind that soon grew into a maelstrom, and then the snow fell. In thousands, millions.

Astellar drew Sunstrike from its sheath. A chorus of swords leaving their scabbards followed soon after.

"Hold your positions, men!" Astellar rallied the soldiers around him in a defensive formation. Which is difficult to maintain in a freezing cold with little visibility. Worst of all, the steepness of the mountainside spelled demise from a single misstep.

AaaaaaaaAAAWwwoooooOOOOOOOoooo!!

A lone and resounding howl broke through the sound of the screaming winds. It sounded familiar, there was no doubt about it; it could only belong to him. A fleeting memory of that night flashed in Astellar's mind.

Astellar gritted his teeth, hard. He fought the coldness creeping up his spine with the burning rage he felt in his heart. Still, it wasn't enough.

'From Ashes, I rise.' he recited in his mind the words of his house. It wasn't meant to give comfort but as a promise. To his family and to his ancestors, that whatever happens, he will not surrender. Despite whatever odds stacked against him by Fate.

He did have a promise to fulfill after all. No matter what.

A battle cry rang out from the stronghold, from that guttural language the beastmen use. The words were inaudible, their meaning, crystal clear.

"From Ashes, I rise!!!" Astellar shouted, much louder than what was on his mind. Astellar received a chorus from his men, their courage resounded with every word. The prince hoped he had salvaged their morale.

A magical barrier formed above the formation, shielding the men from a rain of arrows. The prince swore he'll thank the magi later if they got out alive.

Arrows bombarded the barrier once again and still, it endured.

"Shields up!" General Vernier ordered, his men followed without hesitation.

Astellar noticed the webs of cracks forming on the translucent barrier made of mana.

Like glass, the barrier finally broke against the third volley. A hail of arrows rained from the sky, felling soldiers the moment they landed. It penetrated their shields and impaled their bodies.

A growl in the mists was their only warning.

The enemy gave them no time to recover. A hulking form appeared from the mists, one after another. One of them collided with Astellar and sent him stumbling back. His body had hit one of the soldiers behind him, and the prince swore he heard something broke. The impact had muddled his thoughts, and for a moment, he saw only stars.

"Prince Astellar!" He heard Vernier's voice from... somewhere.

"Maintain formations!" "Where did they come from?" "Someone get the battle-mages out here. Move!"

He was aware of the battle that raged around him. The hulking figures appeared out of nowhere. They charged with their sharp, bone-like appendages leveled to the enemy, impaling them. The human soldiers clamored to retaliate, only for the enemy to disappear into the mists.

"Tusks!"

Astellar heard himself shout. The next second, he's standing on his feet, Sunstrike at the ready to strike down his foes.

His instincts screamed at him. The prince did a side-step to his right, dodging the charging Tusk who planned to impale him from behind. It was close. Too close for anyone's liking. The soldier on the Tusk's collision course wasn't so fortunate.

The beastman growled as he trained his eyes to his original target. The Prince-General readied his sword in a silent challenge.

With a guttural roar, the beastman charged once more.

Astellar calmed his thundering heart. From ashes, I rise.

The Tusk was approaching at an ever-quickening rate. With every step of his hooves, he was almost akin to a high-speed battering ram.

Astellar waited for the Tusk to close the distance between them. One misstep, one miscalculation, was all it would take to a shallow grave.

Now!

With an agility that will make even the hunters from the eastern islands to blink twice. Astellar dodged again, this time he twisted his body to the left. A split-second before the tusks made contact with his body.

Oh, how the Prince relished the look of disbelief that flashed in the beastman's eyes. He then brought his sword downwards on the Tusk's unprotected neck. Sunstrike had cleaved through flesh without effort.

The beastman's head went flying. Astellar hoped it would hit another Tusk on the way down.

Shaking off the blood that adorned his sword, the prince took a moment to survey the battlefield. It seems that more beastmen, not only Tusks, have decided to join the fray. Some he recognized by their bestial features and from his previous skirmishes. Others he had read about in the reports.

The famed Hero of Demon Strait moved across the battlefield like a whirlwind of death. Wherever he went, death soon followed. He aided those who needed it and had slain those unfortunate enough to cross his path.

One. Two. Four... After that, he had lost count of how many beastman that fell from the blade of his ancestors.

Astellar drove his sword through the back of a beastman, before moving on to the next target. He didn't give much thought about it afterward.

The numbers dwindled on both sides.

"Prince Astellar!" it was Candana, high magus, who approached Astellar with her colleague in tow. Their hooded frames but a silhouette in the raging snow. Beneath the shadow of their hoods is a pair of glowing eyes that stared back with evident power.

Magi, Astellar frowned. They presented themselves with a noble and calm elegance despite the carnage. As if the blood and death are completely beneath their notice.

A blast of energy struck a beastman that strayed too close.

Despite what the prince thought of them, he couldn't help but smile. I'm still alive. The high magus smiled back, albeit for a brief moment, hidden from the rest of the world. I know.

"Prince Astellar, this weather is an anomaly."

"Oh yeah?" Astellar felt his patience ebbing away. "Tell me something I do not know, Candana."

"My prince," Candana said as if speaking to a child. "This blizzard is a work of magic, a magic that was all but lost in the pages of time. Whoever is in that stronghold, whoever had cast this spell, is a force to be reckoned with."

Astellar nodded. "Can you disperse the blizzard using your magic?"

"We are doing what we can," Candana said. "But it will take time."

"We don't have time!" Astellar gritted his teeth, "the men are dying as we speak."

Candana's features remained calm in the face of Astellar's outrage. "We will redouble our efforts, my Prince." She said. "Until then, take care of yourself."

Astellar decided he had heard enough. He walked past the magus to vent his rage to an unsuspecting beastmen. Too caught up in her fight, she failed to notice the descending blade.

Astellar had finished dislodging his sword from the beastman's head. A streak of silver moving at the speed of an arrow had caught his attention.

The prince would have dismissed it as nothing more but a trick of the eye if he wasn't waiting for it to happen. Astellar smiled in anticipation. He had waited for this moment after all.

The Wolven moved with speed and dexterity. Their silver hair and light-colored apparel masked their visage in the wintry landscape. They are the unmatched hunters of the North and its ruler. The little encounters Astellar had with them in the past were all but enough to establish a fact. Never underestimate the ferocity of the Wolven, ever.

Astellar strained to follow the silhouette with his eyes. The weather and the chaotic state of the battlefield made the task nigh-impossible.

It was exactly like the last time, Astellar thought. The scar on his left cheek was a testament to how their last encounter ended. He found him at last. This will be the day a victor emerges.

The rest of the beastmen soldiers gave the prince a wide berth. It left little to no doubt that the Wolven had found his prey.

Silver flashed in the corner of his eye. The feeling of impending death compelled Astellar's muscles to react in instinct. Still, it proved futile as a searing pain spread throughout the side of his body. The prince gritted his teeth in repressed agony. The Wolven had struck the vulnerable part in his armor. The thin blade slipped between the plates of steel where there is little protection.

Astellar moved to retaliate despite the pain, but the Wolven was already gone. Swirling snow was all that remained in his wake.

"Damn it!" Astellar cursed. The cloth underneath his armor dripped wet with blood. His mind was on high alert. His eyes darted left and right, expecting an attack from every angle.

The Wolven looked as if he materialized out of thin air in front of Astellar to admire his handiwork. Amber eyes clashed with obsidian in a silent battle. The Wolven spoke in his native language, one that Astellar did not understand.

The prince charged, his sword poised to strike the beastman down.

The Wolven smiled and waited. With a battle cry, Astellar swung Sunstrike in an overhead arc.

The blade had struck air instead of beastman flesh the prince expected. Astellar blinked. His opponent vanished as quick as he appeared, like a candlelight in a snowstorm.

The prince's eyes darted around like a cornered animal. He searched for that silver streak moving across the battlefield at supernatural speeds. The blizzard had made things more difficult for the prince as it limited his vision. Adrenaline did all that it could to numb the blinding pain that throbbed in his wounded side.

Astellar was at a serious disadvantage.

The prince's sense of danger flared up, honed from years of experience in the battlefield. His instincts compelled the prince to turn around and step back. He caught a glimpse of glinting steel sailing in a deadly arc a few inches under his chin.

The prince strived to create distance between him and his attacker, but the beastman won't have any of it. With the grace of that of a predator, the Wolven followed up with a lunge to the heart.

Astellar parried the blow at the last second using Sunstrike. Then using his momentum, tackled the beastman away with his armored shoulder.

The Wolven grunted in pain, then stumbled back before he leaped backward. An agile motion of the beastman's hands sent a pair of daggers speeding towards Astellar. The blades spun like two twisters converging on the prince's neck.

'From Ashes, I rise' Astellar recited in his mind. The words brought forth a welcome calm to the storm that was his mind. 'Still Waters', his ancestors had called it. An incantation disguised as the words of his house, known only to them and them alone.

The prince became aware of everything. For a moment he allowed himself to marvel at the sight of snow drifting to the ground. Unaffected by the strong winds that blew against his heightened sense of feeling. He smelled the stench of blood and death, reveled in it even.

The prince gritted his teeth. The felt the pain on his side and the fatigue that bore down on his shoulders amplified with the use of such spell.

The Wolven was smiling. Astellar could see it as clear as if he was standing but a step away from his adversary. The way the corners of the beastman's mouth crept up in a smile that bared his fangs. How the prince wanted nothing more than to strike him down, if only it wasn't possible.

The daggers spun in a slow arc through the Astellar's heightened state of mind. It felt almost like child's play how he parried the twin daggers with a single swing of Sunstrike. 

'That should wipe that smug smirk off his face', Astellar thought.

He was wrong.

The Wolven's smile grew larger, respect evident in his amber eyes. Astellar narrowed his eyes in response.

"Veren'Mythos," the Wolven said, gesturing to himself.

Astellar's did a double take. Did the Wolven just..?

The prince's eyes widened before he managed to recollect himself.

The prince brought a fist to his chest. He hoped the Wolven would understand the warrior's gesture back in the Kingdom.

He did.

"Astellar Crossis di Rubbelion," the prince stated, with pride in his voice.

Now that the introductions were out of the way, Astellar adopted an offensive stance. His eyes trained on the beastman that could disappear and reappear at any moment.

Veren'Mythos, huh. Finally, Astellar had a name to tack on the elusive figure. The Wolven had been a huge pain in the past. He was the one to orchestrate the raids to the villages and the caravans that dealt with beastman slavery. At least, the ones close to the Northern border.

Astellar wanted to tell the Wolven that not all the beastmen he had freed were better off living in the tundra. Not all the humans that he killed during their raids were all guilty of the crime the beastmen accused them of.

Veren vanished in a swirl of snow that immediately spurred Astellar's mind into a state of high alert.

Sadly, there stood between them an invisible barrier...

The prince twisted his body to block an attack from behind. The sound of clashing steel reverberated across the battlefield.

The beastman's eyes glowed a malevolent amber. His hands blurred to send another flurry of blows to the unmovable fortress that was his enemy.

Astellar's weapon and armor felt heavier than they were before. A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes. A constant use of 'Still Waters' took a heavy toll on both body and mind and Astellar was starting to feel it. Outweighed only by the ability to redirect a dagger lunging towards his face made it all worth it.

Every time the prince would attempt to counter with an attack of his own, Veren would disappear out of thin air. The Wolven would then capitalize on Astellar's vulnerable form with a well-placed strike.

The prince spat blood. His eyes glared behind the dirty mop of ash blonde hair that framed his face. His fingers struggled to maintain their hold on his ancestors' sword. The armor around his body felt heavy. The Wolven did a great job in tiring him down. Astellar released Still Waters lest it drives his mind to the point of over-exhaustion.

There was no pity in the beastman's eyes as he watched his prey. With a resolute nod, he vanished once more in an explosion of snow.

Astellar raised his sword to parry but it was too late. The Wolven had embedded a dagger through his forearm.

The prince struggled to create distance between him and his enemy. Instead, he stumbled back and fell on his backside. Sunstrike slipped through his numb fingers and fell on the snow beside him.

'This is how it ends then,' Astellar thought as he watched the Wolven stalk towards him. 'Pity.'

"Prince Astellar!" It was General Vernier all bloodied and battered. The General positioned himself between the predator and prey, sword at the ready. Veren'Mythos narrowed his eyes at the intruder.

The prince felt relief seeing his old friend, injured but otherwise still alive. He would have told him that, instead, "Save yourself, Vernier! Order a retreat. You can't beat him."

The Wolven lunged for Astellar before his friend could answer. Vernier blocked the strike with little difficulty.

"You're right, I can't," Vernier said, blade crossed in a standoff. "Not alone, anyway."

Astellar glared, but unable to muster the will to argue. Instead, his left hand clasped around the hilt with familiarity. "From Ashes, I rise." The prince said, rising as he did so.

Vernier nodded in agreement and chorused, "From Ashes, I rise."

Veren'Mythos narrowed his eyes to the both of them before disappearing once again in a swirl of snow. The duo readied their weapons. Backs against each other as they scanned the battlefield for any sign of the silver streak.

Astellar parried the blow to his right and Vernier moved to counter with an attack of his own. The dagger in the beastman's other hand darted to redirect the strike away.

The three continued their deadly dance. Steel clashed against steel as the trio moved like a blur. A maelstrom of blades fighting among itself.

The Wolven would disappear every time he found himself in a disadvantageous position. Only to appear again in one of the two's blindside.

They were going nowhere and Veren'Mythos had them where he wanted them. It was only a matter of time before they tire out once more.

"Your Highness," Vernier whispered. "Tell my family they are ever in my thoughts. Now until forever."

Vernier overextended his reach when he attempted to strike back on his opponent. The Wolven was there to make use of the General's misstep.

General Vernier choked in pain as a dagger sliced through the soft flesh in his throat.

"Vernier!" Astellar shouted.

The General did the unexpected by wrapping his hands around the Wolven's wrist. Vernier smiled at the look of shock on the beastman's face. A steady stream of blood poured down the General's armor.

Astellar moved with haste.

"Grrkk!" The agony was evident in the beastman's eyes. His mind finally registered the pain of a sword driven through the chest.

Veren'Mythos was dead even before he had hit the ground.

Astellar Crossis di Rubellion spared his fallen opponent with a final glance. He then moved to his dying friend's side.

The General choked to form words but only blood came out. Blood and bile.

Astellar clasped his friend's hand one final time. "I'll tell them. Don't worry, my friend, I will make sure they know." He promised.

A light of tranquility settled over the agonized look in the General's clouded eyes. Life had finally relinquished its hold.

The prince released his friend's hand. He will weep later, during the silence of the night. For now, he had a war to win.

"From Ashes, I rise!"

***

As Prince Astellar stood triumphant over the body of Veren'Mythos Selune. Unaware to the pair of amber eyes that watched from afar, hooded beneath a mop of silver hair.

"Farewell," a quiet voice said. "Father."

...