Part 1: The Gathering Pack
The frostbound forest was alive with silent watchers. Elias counted twelve—no, fifteen—shadowy figures stepping into the clearing, their forms emerging as though carved from the ice and stone themselves. Each of them bores a unique shape: hulking beasts of serrated rock, lithe hunters cloaked in wisps of icy mist, and others that seemed to shift and flicker like living shadows under the flickering moonlight.
Elias felt the weight of their stares, cold and sharp like the wind on his neck. His hand tightened instinctively around the hilt of his dagger, though he knew it would be worthless against such creatures. These were the allies Fenraen spoke of?
"They don't look thrilled to see us," Elias muttered under his breath.
"They aren't," Fenraen growled, stepping forward. Its massive body seemed even larger now, its fur gleaming under the pale light. "But they will listen. If they value survival."
One of the figures stepped closer, its movements unnervingly smooth. It was taller than the rest, its body humanoid but alien. Its face was a featureless mask of ice, save for two glowing slits where eyes should have been. When it spoke, its voice was a chorus of overlapping tones, each one colder than the last.
"Frostborn," it said, addressing Fenraen, "you bring prey into our den."
Elias stiffened, his free hand curling into a fist. "Prey?" he said through gritted teeth.
Fenraen snarled low in its throat, silencing him. "This is no prey. This is my bonded. He carries the mark of the old blood."
A ripple of movement passed through the pack, their glowing eyes narrowing in unison. The leader tilted its head, as though examining Elias for the first time.
"The old blood," it murmured. "And yet, he is... incomplete."
Elias opened his mouth to protest, but Fenraen's voice cut through his thoughts. "Speak carefully, Elias. These are not allies who tolerate weakness."
Elias swallowed hard and forced himself to stay silent.
Part 2: Trial by Ice
The leader stepped closer, its icy form towering over Elias. It raised one clawed hand, its fingers tapering into jagged, crystalline points.
"If he carries the old blood, he must prove it. Strength is the only language we understand."
Elias glanced at Fenraen, who gave a curt nod. "Do not resist. This is the only way to earn their trust."
The leader placed its clawed hand on Elias's chest. A shock of cold shot through him, searing his nerves with a pain that was both freezing and burning. He gasped, his vision blurring as the frost began to creep across his body, encasing his arms and legs in icy chains.
"What—what is this?" Elias stammered, struggling against the creeping cold.
"They will test your essence," Fenraen said, its tone devoid of sympathy. "If you survive, they will accept you. If not…"
The wolf didn't finish the thought, but it didn't need to.
Elias gritted his teeth, his muscles locking up as the ice encased him completely. The world dimmed, and for a moment, he felt as though he were falling into a vast, endless void. Then the voice came—not Fenraen's, but something older, deeper.
"You carry the mark, but do you carry the will? Show us."
Images flashed through his mind: the frost-covered forest, the bloodied snow, the hulking gargoyle that had nearly torn him apart. But beneath it all, there was something else—a faint, flickering light. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, growing brighter as he focused on it.
Elias reached for the light, and the frost shattered around him.
He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The pack stared in silence; their glowing eyes unreadable. The leader tilted its head once more, then stepped back.
"He is marked," it said. "But marks alone do not make him strong."
Fenraen stepped forward, its growl echoing through the clearing. "He will grow. And when he does, he will be stronger than all of you."
Part 3: A Fragile Alliance
The pack retreated slightly, forming a loose circle around Elias and Fenraen. The leader remained at the center, its icy gaze fixed on the Frostborn wolf.
"What do you seek from us, Fenraen?" it asked.
"The Old Pact is breaking," Fenraen said. "The humans will come for us. For you. The creatures of flame and shadow will not stand idle. War is coming, and we cannot face it alone."
A murmur passed through the pack, their voices low and dissonant. The leader's gaze flicked to Elias, then back to Fenraen.
"And this... boy? You expect him to lead us into war?"
Fenraen bared its teeth. "He will. When the time comes."
The leader's icy mask betrayed no emotion. "Then let him prove it. If he survives the trials ahead, we will consider this alliance."
Fenraen growled in agreement, stepping back to Elias's side.
Elias, still catching his breath, looked up at the wolf. "Trials? You didn't mention anything about trials."
Fenraen's gaze was as cold as the frost. "Did you think earning power would be easy, hunter? You've barely begun to scratch the surface of what you are capable of. If you want to survive, you must learn to wield the frost."
Elias sighed, dragging himself to his feet. "Fine. What's next?"
The leader stepped forward again, its icy claws gleaming in the moonlight.
"Follow us," it said.
Part 4: The Frosted Labyrinth
The pack led them deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser and darker with every step. The air was thick with magic, a suffocating presence that made Elias's skin crawl.
Finally, they arrived at the entrance to what looked like an ancient ruin, half-buried in the ice. Massive stone pillars jutted from the ground; their surfaces etched with runes that glowed faintly in the dark.
The leader turned to Elias. "This is the Frosted Labyrinth. If you wish to prove yourself, you must pass through it."
Elias stared at the ruin, unease twisting in his gut. "And what's inside?"
"The echoes of the old world," the leader said cryptically. "If you are strong, you will find the truth. If you are weak, you will not return."
Fenraen nudged him forward. "Do not hesitate. The longer you delay, the more the labyrinth will feed on your fear."
Elias swallowed hard, gripping his dagger. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one going in there."
"No," Fenraen said, its voice cold. "But I am the one waiting to see if you return."
With that, Elias stepped into the darkness.
Part 5: Into the Depths
The air inside the labyrinth was colder than anything Elias had ever felt, each breath searing his lungs with icy pain. The walls glistened with frost; their surfaces etched with runes that pulsed faintly as he passed.
He moved cautiously, the dagger in his hand providing little comfort. The silence was deafening, broken only by the crunch of his boots on the frozen ground.
Then the shadows began to move.
At first, it was subtle—a flicker of motion at the edge of his vision. But as he ventured deeper, the shapes became more defined. They were figures, humanoid but twisted, their forms flickering between solid and ephemeral.
One of them stepped forward, its hollow eyes locking onto Elias. It raised an arm, and frost began to gather around its hand, forming a jagged spear of ice.
Elias raised his dagger, his pulse hammering in his ears. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.
The figure lunged, and Elias braced himself.