The blizzard raged on, a white wall of fury that numbed Shroud to his core. His breaths came in shallow gasps, visible in the icy air, as he trudged forward. Each step through the knee-deep snow sent a burning ache through his legs, but stopping was not an option. The storm didn't care if he rested—it would swallow him whole if he faltered.
A sharp wind tore through his makeshift cloak, forcing him to clutch it tighter against his body. His fingers, already stiff from the cold, barely moved as he pressed them to his chest, trying to protect the gash left by the frost-bear. He grimaced. The hastily tied bandage wasn't enough, and every jolt of movement sent fresh pain radiating through his body.
The taste of raw meat still lingered on his tongue, unpleasant but necessary. Hunger clawed at him constantly now, his body betraying its weakness at every turn. You can't afford to stop. Keep moving.
Through the blinding snow, something caught his eye—a faint shimmer, almost like a mirage. His heart leapt, though his mind screamed caution. Every beacon in this wasteland could be a trap, a cruel trick to lure him closer to death. Yet, with nothing but the storm behind him, Shroud pressed forward.
The shimmer grew clearer as he approached: an enormous ice formation, jagged and towering, like the remains of some ancient titan frozen in time. At its base, a dark opening yawned wide, beckoning him into its shadow.
A cave. Shelter. Or something worse.
Shroud hesitated at the threshold, peering into the darkness. The wind roared behind him, biting at his exposed skin. He tightened his grip on his cloak and stepped inside.
The cave's interior was colder than he'd imagined. The walls glistened with frost, and the ground was slick beneath his boots. Stalactites hung above like teeth, glinting faintly in the dim light that filtered through the entrance.
Shroud moved cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. Deeper inside, the air became heavier, laced with a strange stillness that made the hairs on his neck stand on end. He found a corner near a cluster of ice formations and collapsed against the wall, his legs trembling with exhaustion.
Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he glanced at the crude bandage on his chest. The bleeding had slowed, but the wound was far from healed. His stomach twisted with hunger, a gnawing pain that refused to be ignored. He retrieved a small strip of frozen meat from his pouch and bit into it, chewing slowly despite its awful texture.
The taste was bitter, the cold making it almost impossible to swallow. Still, he forced it down. Survival wasn't supposed to be pleasant.
For a moment, Shroud allowed his head to rest against the icy wall, his eyelids heavy. His body begged for sleep, but his instincts screamed at him to stay alert. This was not a place of safety.
Then, a sound cut through the silence—a faint scraping, almost imperceptible.
Shroud's eyes snapped open, his hand instinctively reaching out. He willed the energy of the Wraithwalker to answer his call. At first, there was nothing—a terrifying void—but then the familiar hum of spectral energy began to coalesce. The hilt of his double-edged sword formed in his hand, glowing faintly in the dim light.
The scraping grew louder, accompanied by a faint clicking. It echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the walls in a way that made it impossible to pinpoint the source. Shroud forced himself to stand, leaning on his sword for support.
From the shadows emerged a figure—long-limbed and skeletal, its body coated in jagged frost. Its glowing blue eyes locked onto him, unblinking. The creature moved with an unnatural grace, its claws tapping against the ice as it approached.
Shroud's grip tightened on his weapon. He forced his breathing to steady, though every instinct screamed at him to run. There's nowhere to run. Fight or die.
The creature let out a shrill, ear-piercing cry before lunging at him.
Shroud sidestepped, his sword slicing through the air. The blade connected with the creature's shoulder, sending a spray of ice shards cascading to the ground. The beast staggered but recovered quickly, its movements now more deliberate, more predatory.
It swiped at him with its claws, and Shroud barely managed to parry the blow. The force of the impact sent him sliding backward, his boots skidding on the icy floor. Pain flared in his injured chest, but he grit his teeth and pushed through it.
The creature lunged again, faster this time. Shroud summoned Ethereal Step, his form flickering as he phased out of the beast's path. The ability drained what little strength he had left, and he stumbled as he reappeared, his vision blurring for a moment.
The creature hissed, circling him like a wolf stalking wounded prey. Shroud tightened his grip on his sword, willing his legs to stay steady.
"You're not taking me down," he muttered, his voice barely audible.
The creature leapt once more, claws extended. This time, Shroud didn't dodge. He stepped forward, bringing his sword up in a calculated arc. The blade struck true, slicing clean through the creature's neck.
The beast collapsed in a heap, its body cracking and splintering like ice underfoot. Shroud fell to his knees, gasping for breath as his sword dissolved into mist. His hands trembled, and he pressed them against the icy floor to steady himself.
Among the creature's remains, a faint glow caught his eye—a crystalline core, pulsing faintly with energy. Shroud reached for it, hesitating for only a moment before crushing it in his hand.
A wave of warmth surged through him, dulling the ache in his wounds and restoring a fraction of his strength. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
He leaned back against the wall, his head resting against the frozen surface. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, the cavern now eerily silent once more.
This is just the beginning.
Shroud pushed himself to his feet, his body protesting with every movement. He glanced back toward the cavern's depths, where more shadows loomed. Whatever else waited for him in this frozen hell, he would face it head-on.
Because giving up wasn't an option.
The storm outside had lessened by the time he emerged from the cave. The sky above was still gray, but the blizzard's fury had subsided to a whisper. Shroud pulled his cloak tighter around him and set his sights on the horizon.
The trial would not break him. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how many monsters he had to face, he would survive.
Because he had to.
End of Chapter