The climb was arduous, each step up the mountain a struggle against the unyielding terrain and the biting cold that gnawed at their exposed skin.
The snow crunched beneath their boots, and the wind, though less violent than during the storm, still whipped around them with a fierce chill that cut through their clothes.
Jonathan's breath came in ragged gasps, each one visible in the frigid air as they ascended the steep, rocky path.
Seraphine moved with practiced ease, her movements fluid despite the treacherous conditions.
She seemed almost impervious to the cold, her focus entirely on the path ahead.
Jonathan marveled at her resilience, pushing himself to keep pace with her despite the exhaustion that weighed heavily on him.
The mountains loomed ever closer, their jagged peaks piercing the sky like the teeth of some ancient beast.
The closer they got, the more Jonathan felt the oppressive weight of the place, the sense that these mountains were more than just a physical barrier, but a boundary between worlds, between the known and the unknown.
Every step forward was a step deeper into a mystery that had swallowed countless others before him.
As they climbed, the landscape around them began to change.
The snow-covered ground gave way to patches of bare rock, slick with ice, and the path grew narrower and more treacherous.
The wind howled through the crevices in the mountainside, creating an eerie, mournful sound that seemed to echo all around them.
They came to a narrow ledge, barely wide enough for them to walk single file.
Jonathan pressed himself against the rock wall, his heart pounding in his chest as he carefully edged his way along the ledge.
Below them, the ground dropped away into a deep chasm, the bottom obscured by swirling mist.
One wrong step, and they would plummet into the abyss.
Seraphine moved ahead with the confidence of someone who had done this a hundred times before, her steps sure and precise.
Jonathan followed her lead, trying to keep his fear in check as he focused on each movement, each carefully placed step.
The ledge seemed to stretch on forever, the chasm below a constant reminder of the danger they faced.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the other side.
The path widened again, and Jonathan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Seraphine glanced back at him, a small, reassuring smile on her lips.
"Not much farther now," she said,
her voice carrying over the wind.
"We'll be at the entrance to the pass soon."
Jonathan nodded, though the tension in his chest hadn't fully eased.
The dream he'd had the night before still haunted him, the image of the city crumbling and the figure in the shadows lingering at the edge of his thoughts.
He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, that the very mountains around them were alive with the echoes of the past, waiting for the right moment to reveal their secrets.
As they continued their ascent, the path grew steeper, the air thinner and colder.
The wind carried with it the scent of snow and ice, and Jonathan could feel the chill seeping into his bones.
Despite the physical exertion, he shivered, his fingers and toes growing numb from the cold.
The mountains towered above them, their peaks shrouded in mist, and the landscape around them grew more desolate with each passing step.
The snow had given way entirely to bare rock and ice, the only signs of life the occasional hardy shrub clinging to the mountainside.
It was as if they were entering a different world, a place where time had stood still, frozen in the grip of an ancient power.
Eventually, they reached a narrow pass between two towering peaks.
The walls of the pass were sheer, rising up on either side like the walls of a fortress, and the ground was littered with fallen rocks and debris.
The wind howled through the pass, creating a deafening roar that drowned out all other sounds.
"This is it," Seraphine said,
her voice barely audible over the wind.
"The pass to the city. Once we're through here, we'll be in the heart of the mountains."
Jonathan stared at the pass, his heart pounding in his chest.
The vision had shown him this place—the narrow pass, the towering peaks, and the sense of foreboding that seemed to hang in the air like a thick fog.
He knew that once they crossed through the pass, there would be no turning back.
They entered the pass, the wind tearing at their clothes and biting at their skin.
The walls of the pass rose high above them, blocking out the sky and casting deep shadows over the path.
The ground was uneven, littered with rocks and debris, making the going slow and treacherous.
As they walked, Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
The shadows seemed to move, shifting and flickering at the edges of his vision, and he could have sworn he heard faint whispers carried on the wind.
He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the path ahead, but the sense of unease only grew stronger.
The pass seemed to go on forever, the walls closing in around them as they ventured deeper into the heart of the mountains.
The air grew colder, the wind more fierce, and the whispers grew louder, more insistent.
Jonathan's heart raced, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the oppressive atmosphere closed in around him.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the pass began to widen, the walls receding to reveal a vast, open expanse.
Jonathan stumbled out of the pass, his legs trembling from the strain and the cold, and he found himself standing at the edge of a great, frozen plain.
The mountains loomed all around, their peaks piercing the sky, and in the distance, barely visible through the swirling snow and mist, was the outline of the city.
It was exactly as he had seen in his vision—massive, ancient, and crumbling.
The buildings were tall and grand, their walls covered in vines and moss, and the streets were deserted, overgrown with weeds and rubble.
The air was heavy with the scent of decay and time, and the sense of being watched, of something lurking just out of sight, was stronger than ever.
Seraphine stood beside him, her expression grave as she stared at the city in the distance.
"We're here," she said quietly.
"The city of the Old Powers."
Jonathan nodded, his eyes fixed on the ruins. The sight of the city filled him with a mix of awe and dread, the sheer scale of the place overwhelming in its silence and desolation.
He could feel the weight of history pressing down on him, the echoes of the past whispering in his ears, warning him of the dangers that lay ahead.
As they approached the city, the whispers grew louder, more distinct, though still incomprehensible.
The ground beneath their feet was uneven, the stones worn smooth by time and the elements.
The closer they got, the more the city seemed to come alive, the shadows shifting and flickering, the air thick with an unseen presence.
They crossed an ancient, crumbling bridge that spanned a frozen river, the ice below dark and opaque.
The bridge groaned under their weight, the stones cracking and shifting as they walked, but it held.
On the other side, the city gates stood open, their massive doors hanging askew, rusted and overgrown with ivy.
Jonathan paused at the threshold, his heart pounding in his chest.
The city loomed before them, its streets winding and narrow, its buildings towering and silent.
The sense of being watched was overwhelming now, the whispers in his ears growing louder, more urgent.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped through the gates.
The city was a labyrinth of crumbling buildings and overgrown streets, the air thick with the scent of decay.
The ground was littered with debris, the remains of a once-great civilization reduced to ruins by time and the elements.
The buildings towered above them, their walls covered in vines and moss, their windows dark and empty.
As they made their way deeper into the city, the whispers grew louder, the shadows darker, and the sense of being watched more intense.
Jonathan's heart raced, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the oppressive atmosphere closed in around him.
He could feel the weight of the city pressing down on him,
the echoes of the past whispering in his ears, warning him of the dangers that lay ahead.
They came to a large, open square, the center of the city.
The buildings around the square were grand, their walls covered in intricate carvings and symbols, but they were also crumbling, their once-proud facades marred by cracks and decay.
In the center of the square stood a massive stone statue, its features worn smooth by time, its eyes hollow and empty.
Jonathan stared up at the statue, a sense of recognition washing over him.
It was the same figure he had seen in his dream—the hooded figure, its hand outstretched, the city crumbling around it.
The sight of it filled him with a cold, icy dread, the memory of the dream flooding back with startling clarity.
"This is it," Seraphine said quietly,
her voice barely above a whisper.
"The heart of the city. The place where it all began."
Jonathan nodded, his eyes still fixed on the statue.
He could feel the weight of history pressing down on him, the echoes of the past whispering in his ears, warning him of the dangers that lay ahead.
The city was a place of power, a place where the Old Powers had once walked, and where their presence still lingered, waiting to be awakened.
As they stood in the square, the shadows around them began to shift, the air growing colder
…