Calder wrapped his scarf tighter around his face. The howling wind cut into him like a knife, the skin around his eyes red and raw and bleeding, his muscles stiff, his fingers and toes numb. He saw no trees, no rocks, no shelter for miles in front of him; only a barren, snow covered wasteland.

Calder cupped his hands in front of his face and focused his will into creating fire. He could almost feel it, a great bonfire that would warm him to the core. What he got was a small spark that singed a few threads on his glove. His mana had run dry. His time was almost up.

So cold. He was so cold.

"Halt."

Calder stopped mid-stride. A jolt ran through him. He was alone, he was certain of it, but he was also certain that the voice he had heard was real. He couldn't have imagined a voice like that. The sound of it reverberated in his skull, rattled his bones. His hand reflexively went to the sword at his hip.

The snow in front of Calder began to bubble with a red liquid, dark as blood and thick as oil. It sizzled and hissed and as Calder watched, the shape of a woman began to grow in the center of the pool.

Calder took her in, fully formed now, the waxy chrysalis she had emerged from melted away. Her eyes were a deep amber, the same color as the glowing veins that flowed across her ebony skin. They shone through the sheer black tunic she wore, traced across her stomach and chest, snaked across her arms and legs and up the curving horns that sprouted from her temples. Her waist length hair was the same deep red as the boiling liquid that pooled around her feet, and as she quirked her mouth in a sneer Calder could see the barest hint of a fang peeking behind her lips. She was beautiful and monstrous and completely, unmistakably who Calder had been searching for.

Tears welled in Calder's eyes, freezing as they tumbled down his cheeks. He fell to his knees, pressed his hands to his forehead and bent at the waist until his shaggy hair hung down and brushed the snow.

"Lady Iacadi, I have come to-"

"Silence,” Iacadi hissed. Calder's stomach lurched. Her voice, projected from a physical form and not an ethereal one, radiated power. If she wished it, she could kill him with a thought. “How did you enter my realm?”

Calder lifted his head, laid his hands on his legs. "With a key. Keskila gave it to me.”

Iacadi frowned and reached out a hand. “Show me.”

Calder produced the key, dangling it by the thin chain that looped through it. The key was black and gold and red and all sharp edges, like Iacadi herself. Iacadi snatched it and ran her fingers over the markings that were etched into its smooth surface.

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“You have the mana capacity of a gnat. Is this a joke?”

"No," Calder said, setting his jaw. “Keskila tells me that I have the potential to become more powerful than her.”

Iacadi scoffed. “Keskila is a Scion of Aurus, boy. As am I. None are more powerful than us.”

”Even the Archons?”

Calder regretted saying it as soon as it left his tongue but the bell could not be un-rung. Iacadi, all tooth and nail, took a step forward and sent a wave of mana into him that writhed around in his chest, squeezing and burning his insides.

“Get out,” Iacadi hissed, her voice animal and dangerous.

This was going all wrong. He needed to do something, needed to salvage this before it was too late.

As the pain began to subside, Calder slowly stood and met Iacadi’s fiery gaze. He raised his hands in a placating gesture and cast aside as much fear as he could.

“Forgive me, lady,” he said. “I let my anger get the better of me. It’s just that I did not make it this far to be mocked and dismissed. Not even by someone as great as you.”

A bit of the rage that twisted Iacadi’s face left her and her snarl returned to a sneer. Calder pressed on.

“I am here in earnest. I know my mana is weak but my will is strong. And I have a hatred for the Archons that no matter how many years have passed, no matter how much I've tried to let it go, will not leave me."

"You and the rest of Ifera," Iacadi said. Calder kept speaking, undeterred.

"I had given up on seeking revenge, resigned myself to the fact that I would never be powerful enough to claim it. Then I met Keskila. She saw my hatred, saw some hidden potential in me. Suicidal though it may be, she has offered me this chance and I would be in your debt if you allow me to take it.”

Iacadi relaxed her posture and sighed. “It is completely suicidal, ridiculous and a waste of energy. It’d be a mercy for us both if I just let you freeze to death.”

She turned and gestured for Calder to follow. He hurried beside Iacadi as she strode through the snow, outpacing him as if he were a child trying to keep up with his mother. “My sister is a wide-eyed dreamer,” she began. “She believes that if we throw enough of you mortals into the Tomb, that one of you will eventually emerge our equal. I believe it’s complete and utter horse shit.”

As they walked, the snow in front of them melted away to reveal a winding path made of loose and jagged slate, a dark streak that stained the otherwise perfectly white landscape. After some time, Calder couldn’t be sure how long, they reached the end. There stood an altar, made of that same dark slate. It stood almost as tall as Calder did, and was perfectly smooth and free of weathering.

“Do you know how many times I’ve walked this path, little gnat?” Iacadi asked. “How many like yourself I’ve led to the this altar, only for them to never return?” Iacadi asked

“I don’t want to know,” Calder said, swallowing the bile rising in his throat.

“No, you don’t,” Iacadi agreed.

Calder stared at the altar. At it’s perfect, black surface. He should’ve been able to see himself in it, glassy as it was. But there was nothing. It was as if it was completely void of light.

“Last chance to turn back.” Iacadi said, breaking his trance.

”No,” Calder said. “I’m ready.”

Iacadi gestured for him to lay upon the altar. He did.