The world was colder than it had ever been before. The storm that raged outside the ruins of the temple seemed to have taken on a life of its own, howling through the mountains like a beast searching for prey. Kael felt it deep in his bones—an unnatural chill that had nothing to do with the weather. The Black Frost in his veins had awakened something in the world, and he wasn't sure what it was, but he could feel it closing in.
Lira was already several paces ahead, her eyes scanning the horizon. She had a way of moving that was almost animalistic—silent, quick, and always aware. She didn't need to speak to convey the urgency of their situation; her every movement told Kael that they were being hunted.
"They'll be here soon," she muttered, never slowing her pace.
Kael's heart skipped a beat, his cursed hand pulsing uneasily at the thought. The Frostbound soldiers weren't the only ones hunting them now. He could feel the presence of something darker, something ancient, shifting in the wind. The medallion in his pack, once warm and inviting, now felt like a weight—an anchor dragging him toward an unknown fate.
"Who?" Kael asked, his voice low, a mix of curiosity and dread.
Lira's eyes narrowed as she scanned the snow-covered terrain. "The Frostborn."
The words hit Kael like a blow to the chest. The Frostborn were legends, ancient warriors who were said to be born from the very heart of winter itself. Some believed they were the original bearers of the Black Frost, cursed beings twisted by the same power that had claimed Kael. But others whispered that the Frostborn weren't merely cursed—they were the hunters of those who bore the mark, tracking down anyone who dared wield the Black Frost's power.
"You're telling me they're real?" Kael asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Lira nodded grimly. "They are. And they're coming for you."
Kael's hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword, the weight of it grounding him. He had always known that the Black Frost was dangerous, but he hadn't fully understood just how deep the curse ran—or how many would come for him because of it. The Frostborn weren't just legends; they were real, and they were far more dangerous than the Frostbound soldiers ever could be.
"Do you know how to fight them?" Kael asked.
Lira shot him a quick, sharp glance, her lips curling into a wry smile. "I've fought worse."
Kael didn't know whether to be reassured or terrified. He had seen her fight, and he knew she was no ordinary warrior. But the Frostborn were different—they weren't just soldiers or beasts. They were born of ice and death, their very existence tied to the cold itself.
The wind howled again, and Kael felt the temperature drop even further. They were getting close.
Lira's pace quickened as she led them toward a narrow pass between two towering cliffs. The path was treacherous, the snow deep and uneven, but it offered them some cover from the open plains.
"We'll make camp here," Lira said, stopping abruptly. "We need to prepare. They'll track us by the storm, and we need to be ready for whatever comes next."
Kael nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. The Frostborn would be coming, and they wouldn't give up easily. He could feel it—the pull of the Black Frost, urging him to embrace the power, to give in to its darkness. But every time he did, it cost him more. His cursed hand burned with an unnatural fire, the frost spreading up his arm in jagged lines. He gritted his teeth against the pain, forcing it back.
"We don't have much time," Lira continued, crouching down to gather snow. "The Frostborn won't stop until they have you, Kael. We need to find a way to fight them."
Kael looked at her, his jaw clenched. "What do you mean, 'find a way to fight them'?"
Lira met his gaze with a steady, unwavering look. "You don't have the luxury of ignoring this curse anymore. The Frostborn are a part of it, and they won't rest until they've either claimed you or destroyed you. You have two options—learn to control the Black Frost, or become its servant."
The words hung between them like a cold, silent threat. Kael didn't need to ask what happened to those who couldn't control the curse. He had seen it in the eyes of the soldiers who had succumbed to the frost, their bodies twisted and corrupted by the same darkness that now flowed through him.
"I don't want to become like them," Kael muttered, his gaze flicking down to his hand.
Lira's eyes softened, just for a moment. "Then you need to embrace the power. Fight it, control it. If you don't, it will consume you."
Kael clenched his fist, the black frost swirling around his fingers like a living thing. He felt the power beckoning him, urging him to take control, to use it. But a part of him—something deep inside—feared what would happen if he gave in completely.
The wind shifted, bringing with it the faintest sound. Footsteps. Kael's heart hammered in his chest as he glanced over at Lira, who was already standing, sword drawn.
"They're here," she said, her voice calm despite the danger.
The first Frostborn appeared from the shadows of the cliffs, tall and gaunt, their skin pale as ice. Their eyes were the color of frozen lakes, empty and cold, and their movements were unnervingly graceful—like they had no need for breath, no need for warmth.
"There are three," Lira said quietly, sizing up the enemies. "More will come soon."
Kael gripped his sword tighter, the weight of it a comfort in his hand. His cursed hand ached with every heartbeat, but it also burned with the promise of power. He had no choice now. If he didn't embrace it, he'd be torn apart.
The Frostborn stopped in front of them, their hollow eyes fixed on Kael. The leader of the three, a tall figure with long, frozen hair, stepped forward.
"You bear the mark of the Black Frost," the Frostborn said, their voice like the sound of cracking ice. "You have crossed into our realm, and for that, you will die."
Kael's grip on his sword tightened. "I'm not afraid of you."
The Frostborn's lips curled into a cruel smile. "You will be."
With a sudden movement, the Frostborn attacked, their bodies moving faster than Kael could track. But Lira was faster. She intercepted the first blow with a sharp clash of steel, her movements fluid and precise.
Kael didn't wait. The black frost surged through him, wrapping around his hand like a vicious serpent. He thrust his cursed hand forward, and a jagged shard of ice shot toward the nearest Frostborn.
The creature dodged, but Kael was already moving. He stepped into the gap, his sword raised high, and swung with all the force he could muster.
The Frostborn blocked the strike with ease, their icy blade clashing against Kael's sword with a sound that sent a shiver down his spine.
But Kael didn't back down. He pressed forward, the Black Frost flowing through him, a dangerous, reckless power that he couldn't control—but that didn't matter. Not now.
Lira was fighting the other two, her blade flashing like lightning as she parried and struck with deadly precision.
Kael's mind raced. He needed to find their weakness, their vulnerability. He couldn't keep fighting like this forever.
The leader of the Frostborn grinned, raising its weapon. "You are not strong enough to wield this power, mortal. It will consume you, like it has consumed so many before you."
Kael felt the Black Frost surge within him, and for the first time, he didn't fight it. He embraced it.
The ice cracked beneath his feet as his power exploded outward, an uncontrolled wave of energy that sent the Frostborn reeling. The leader's grin faltered as the blast hit, but it wasn't enough to bring them down. Not yet.
But Kael had made a choice. And he wouldn't stop until the Frostborn had been vanquished—or until he was the one left in the snow.