The storm pressed harder as the hours wore on, the wind lashing at Kael and Lira with icy fury. Each step through the snow felt heavier, their breaths shallow as the frost bit at their lungs. They hadn't spoken much since escaping the Frostbound soldiers, their focus solely on survival.
The medallion's pulse grew stronger with every passing hour, pulling Kael toward an unknown destination. He could feel it resonating in his chest, urging him forward. It wasn't a comforting sensation—it felt like being led by a chain, its grip tightening with every step.
Lira stopped suddenly, holding up a hand. "Wait."
Kael froze, his hand instinctively hovering near his sword. "What is it?"
She scanned the horizon, her blue eyes narrowing. "Do you see that?"
Kael squinted into the distance. At first, he saw nothing but the endless expanse of snow and ice. Then he noticed it—a faint shape looming in the distance, half-buried in the frost. It was massive, jagged, and unnatural.
"What is that?" he asked, his voice low.
Lira didn't answer immediately. She took a few cautious steps forward, her gaze fixed on the shape. "A temple," she said finally. "Old. Forgotten."
The word sent a chill down Kael's spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "How do you know?"
Lira glanced back at him, her expression unreadable. "Because I've seen one like it before. And if it's anything like the last one, it's not a place you want to go unprepared."
Kael frowned, the medallion's pulse quickening. "I don't think we have a choice."
Lira followed his gaze, her eyes falling on the faint glow emanating from Kael's pack. She sighed, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "Of course we don't. Lead the way, then."
The temple grew larger as they approached, its dark stone walls rising like jagged teeth from the snow. Time and frost had worn away much of its surface, but the intricate carvings that remained hinted at its purpose. Strange, twisting symbols lined the entrance, their meanings lost to the ages.
"Stay close," Lira said, her voice quieter now.
Kael nodded, gripping his sword tightly. He didn't need her warning to know this place was dangerous. The air around the temple felt heavy, charged with an energy that set his nerves on edge.
As they stepped inside, the wind died abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence. The interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of frost-covered walls. Their footsteps echoed as they moved deeper into the temple, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness.
Kael's cursed hand began to tingle, the black frost stirring uneasily. The medallion's pulse was almost overwhelming now, its warmth radiating through him.
"This place feels... wrong," Kael muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lira nodded, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "Temples like this were built to contain something. Or protect it. Either way, we need to be careful."
They reached a wide chamber at the heart of the temple, its walls adorned with more of the strange symbols. At the center of the room was an altar, half-buried in ice. On it lay a crystal shard, glowing faintly with a cold, blue light.
Kael felt the medallion in his pack thrum in response, its pulse syncing with the glow of the shard.
"That's it," he said, stepping toward the altar.
Lira grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Wait. Don't touch it."
Kael frowned. "Why not?"
"Because I've seen what happens to people who touch things like that," she said, her tone sharp. "Whatever this is, it's not just some trinket. It's connected to something powerful. Something ancient."
Kael hesitated, her words sinking in. But the medallion's pull was relentless, urging him forward.
"We don't have time to be cautious," he said, pulling free from her grip. "The Frostbound Order is still hunting us, and this might be the only way to stop them."
Before Lira could argue, Kael reached out and touched the shard.
The moment his fingers brushed its surface, the world around him exploded into light.
A wave of cold surged through him, sharper and more intense than anything he'd felt before. His cursed hand flared with black frost, the veins darkening as the shard's energy flowed into him. Images flashed through his mind—fragments of a forgotten world, ancient battles fought in the ice, and a towering figure cloaked in frost and shadow.
The figure's voice boomed in his mind, deep and commanding. "You bear the mark of the Black Frost. You are its vessel. Its weapon. Prove yourself worthy, or be consumed."
Kael fell to his knees, gasping for breath. The shard's glow faded, leaving only the faint pulse of the medallion in its place.
Lira rushed to his side, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. "What the hell were you thinking?"
Kael shook his head, struggling to speak. "It... it showed me something. A vision. There's something out there, something connected to this curse."
Lira helped him to his feet, her grip firm. "Then we'd better find it before the Frostbound do."
A deep rumble echoed through the temple, the walls shaking as chunks of ice began to fall from the ceiling.
"We need to move," Lira said, her voice urgent.
Kael nodded, his legs still shaky but steadying with each step. The temple was collapsing around them, the ancient structure unable to contain the shard's power any longer.
They ran, dodging falling debris and navigating the twisting corridors. The air grew colder with every step, the frost creeping up the walls and sealing off passages behind them.
Finally, they burst out into the open, the wind whipping at their faces as the temple caved in behind them.
Kael turned to look at the ruins, his breath visible in the freezing air. The medallion's pulse had settled now, its warmth a faint reminder of the power he had just unleashed.
Lira stood beside him, her expression unreadable. "Whatever you just did, it's going to make things worse."
Kael met her gaze, determination hardening his features. "Then we'd better be ready."
The storm raged on around them, but Kael felt a new fire burning inside him. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: the Black Frost was no longer just a curse. It was a weapon—and he intended to wield it.