The ruins loomed ahead, a labyrinth of jagged stone and frozen archways. They were ancient, older than the lands themselves, their walls etched with runes and symbols that Kael couldn't comprehend. His heart hammered in his chest, the Black Frost thrumming under his skin, as though it recognized the place, as though it was calling him home.
Lira moved with purpose, her eyes scanning their surroundings with practiced caution. She had seen these kinds of ruins before, but this was different. The air here felt thick, alive with something Kael couldn't place. It wasn't just the curse—it was the weight of history, the remnants of the king who had once ruled these lands.
As they ventured deeper into the ruins, the cold pressed in on them like a living thing. The silence was deafening. No birds, no wind, nothing but the sound of their footsteps and the faint crunch of ice beneath their boots. But Kael couldn't shake the feeling that something else was there, something watching them from the shadows.
"This place…" Kael's voice was barely above a whisper. "It feels wrong."
Lira didn't respond immediately, her gaze fixed ahead. "It's the ruins. They hold the echoes of the past. The king's madness still lingers here, and it distorts the land. The closer we get to the center, the stronger the pull will be."
Kael's hand instinctively twitched toward the Black Frost, feeling the curse stir. It wanted him to succumb, to unleash its full power. But he wasn't sure he could control it. Not here. Not with the weight of the past pressing down on him.
They reached the heart of the ruins, a vast chamber lined with crumbling columns. At the center, a massive stone altar stood, bathed in an eerie, unnatural light that seemed to emanate from deep within the earth. The air felt charged, as though the very ground beneath them was alive, humming with energy.
Lira stopped at the edge of the altar, her face grim. "This is it. The heart of the Black Frost."
Kael stared at the altar, his pulse quickening. The Black Frost inside him stirred violently, as if it recognized the place, as if it were calling to something deeper, something older.
"What is this place?" Kael asked, his voice hoarse.
Lira stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the altar. "This was where the king's power was sealed. Where the Black Frost was first bound to the land. The ruins are not just a monument to his reign; they are a prison. A prison for the curse."
Kael frowned. "A prison?"
Lira nodded. "The king, in his madness, tried to wield the full power of the Black Frost. But it consumed him, twisted him into something... less than human. He sought to bind the power here, to lock it away. But the curse was too strong. It broke free, and the ruins became its prison. The Black Frost was meant to be contained, but the king's influence still lingers. It calls to those who are weak."
Kael took a step back, his heart racing. He could feel it now, the full weight of the curse pressing against his mind. The Black Frost wanted him to take the power, to claim it for himself, but he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if he did.
Before he could say anything, a voice—low, guttural, ancient—whispered through the chamber.
"You have come… seeking the power of the Black Frost."
Kael froze, his eyes darting around the chamber. Lira's hand went to her sword, her body tense, ready for anything.
"Who's there?" Kael demanded, his voice shaky.
The voice continued, but it was not from a single source. It seemed to echo from every corner of the room, vibrating through the stone itself.
"I am the King. The first. The one who called forth the Frost and was consumed by it. And now, you stand at the threshold of the power I could never control. The power that will either break you... or remake you."
The ground trembled, and Kael stumbled back, his heart pounding. The Black Frost inside him surged again, a force that he couldn't control, as if the king's spirit, bound to the ruins, was trying to connect with him. The cold seeped deeper into his bones, filling his veins with ice. His breath came in sharp gasps.
"Kael, get away from the altar!" Lira shouted, her voice panicked.
But it was too late.
The altar began to glow, the runes etched into the stone lighting up in a sickly blue hue. The walls of the chamber seemed to collapse inward, distorting, bending as though the very fabric of the world was being twisted. Kael felt his vision blur, the Black Frost screaming for release, overwhelming his senses.
"You are the chosen one," the voice boomed, reverberating through the chamber. "The heir to the Frost. The one who will claim its throne… or fall to its power."
Kael staggered, clutching his head, the pain in his skull almost unbearable. The Black Frost was too much. It was clawing at him, suffocating him, and in that moment, he felt as though he were being torn apart from the inside.
Lira stepped forward, her sword drawn. "Kael! You have to fight it! The king's spirit is trying to take you over. You can't let him!"
But Kael could barely hear her. All he could hear was the voice, the overwhelming presence of the king's madness, the power of the Black Frost calling to him like a siren's song.
"You cannot resist. You will be mine."
Kael's body trembled, his hands shaking as the Black Frost erupted from his chest, curling around him like chains of ice. His vision turned white, the cold so intense it burned. He could feel the king's presence pressing into his mind, filling every thought, every breath, until there was nothing left of Kael. Only the Black Frost.
And then, a strange voice—Lira's voice—cut through the chaos.
"Kael, listen to me! You're stronger than this! Don't let it take you!"
For a moment, Kael found himself grasping for her voice, her words the last tether to his sanity. The cold continued to ravage him, but through the pain, he reached out. The Black Frost resisted, but he fought back, using his own will to push against the crushing force.
"I… I can't," Kael gasped, the words barely escaping his lips.
But Lira's voice cut through again, sharper, more urgent. "You have to! Kael, if you don't, we're both lost!"
And something in Kael snapped.
With a scream, he willed the Black Frost back, forcing it to obey his command. His hand trembled as he held it out, the frost dissipating around him. The voice of the king screamed in rage, but Kael refused to let it consume him.
For a moment, everything was silent. The light from the altar faded, and the air returned to its chilling stillness. Kael stood, panting, his body drenched in cold sweat. The Black Frost had receded—barely.
Lira approached slowly, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and fear. "You… You did it."
Kael didn't respond. His mind was still reeling from the assault, and the weight of what had just happened was crashing down on him. He had come so close to losing himself, to becoming just another victim of the Black Frost.
But he had resisted. For now.
Lira's voice broke the silence. "We need to get out of here. This place is cursed. The king's spirit is still tied to the Black Frost. And if you don't stop it soon, there will be no saving you."
Kael nodded silently, his gaze lingering on the altar. The ruins had given him a glimpse of what lay ahead—of the power that would either save or destroy him. And he knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.