Kieran's back hit the wall with a jarring thud, the cold stone bruising into his spine. His breath came fast, chest heaving, as his trembling hands fumbled to pick up the bloodied stone shard he had dropped during his retreat. The growls deepened, guttural and resonant, the sound vibrating through the marrow of his bones. Shadows shifted and surged forward, their unnatural shapes solidifying into a cluster of creatures with glowing, pitiless eyes that reflected his every movement.
He gripped the shard so tightly his knuckles paled, the jagged edge biting into the soft skin of his palm. His arm throbbed where the first creature's claws had torn through his flesh back in the other chamber, a hot and raw pain that sent streaks of nausea through his stomach. The coppery taste of fear sat heavy in his throat, but as much as he wanted to run, there was nowhere left to go. The beasts had encircled him, their sinewy legs clicking against the frozen bones scattered across the uneven floor.
One of them moved closer, its angular frame dipping low. The sound of frostbitten bones cracking under its jagged claws filled the oppressive silence. The others followed, spreading out, a coordinated pack. Their glowing eyes burned a wavering luminescent white, like the dangerous edge of a storm cloud. Kieran's fingers twitched against the damp, gritty shard, his survival instincts screaming at him to do something.
But it was no use. He knew in his heart he couldn't fight all of them. There would be no wild and desperate victory like before.
"No," he whispered aloud, his voice cracking. His muscles remained stiff with exhaustion and terror, though his chest heaved with frantic breaths. His gaze darted between the creatures, watching their slow, predatory approach. "This can't be it."
The closest creature lowered itself to pounce. Kieran's pulse thundered in his ears as he raised the stone, clutching it as if it were anything more than a meaningless scrap of sharp rock. The thing lunged.
Time seemed to stretch out, slowing everything but the pounding of his heart. Kieran felt a bolt of lightning rip through his stomach—not pain, but an ancient, feral impulse forcing its way out of him. A biting cold blossomed from somewhere deep within, spreading through his veins like liquid frost. It wasn't just cold. It was power.
The air changed. The creatures froze mid-movement, their snarl-etched faces filling with hesitation. Kieran barely grasped what was happening. One moment his hands had gripped stone, the next, ice surged out from beneath him in a swell of sharp, crystalline beauty. The frost spread fast, racing outwards across the ground in jagged cracks that shimmered faintly in the dim light.
The leading creature tried to retreat, its screeching cry echoing through the chamber, but it had already begun to freeze. Frost spread over its gaunt frame in an instant, encasing its mangled bones in intricate shards of glittering ice. One by one, the pack met the same fate, petrified mid-pounce by the glacial wave. The last thing Kieran saw in their glowing eyes was a flicker of primal fear before the frost overtook them entirely.
The ice wasn't clean. It ripped upward in sharp, spear-like formations, piercing into the creatures' frozen bodies. Cracks split the air like gunshots as the pressure built within the thick ice, and the creatures shattered, scattering in a spray of jagged shards that littered the ground.
When it was over, silence reclaimed the space. Kieran blinked, trying to process what he was seeing. The bone-riddled floor was now a brittle expanse of ice. The world no longer smelled of damp blood and stale decay. It smelled cold, hollow, untouched.
But Kieran? He felt the opposite. He collapsed to the ground, hands slipping against the ice before he managed to stabilize himself. Every limb trembled violently, and his breath left him in staggered gasps that turned to visible mist in the air. Exhaustion bore down on him in waves, a bone-deep ache that stole every ounce of strength. His head pounded, his body drenched in sweat despite the cold.
And then, like a storm breaking through cracked glass, the memories came.
There was no warning. One moment he slumped forward, eyes locked on the frozen creatures, and the next he was someone else.
He was standing atop a snowy plain that stretched endlessly in all directions. The figure he was—in the memory or dream, or whatever this was—stood tall and calm, their face obscured. They lifted their hands, and the tundra answered. Frost leapt at their command, shards forming blades that cleaved through stone, tendrils of snow weaving into shields that repelled fire and light. The person exuded confidence, mastery.
The image shifted. Now they were kneeling beside a frozen lake, its surface silent and clear, reflecting a face Kieran could not quite make out. A mournful gaze fell over the still water, hands pressed heavily into the snow. The ache of grief soaked into his chest, unfamiliar but painfully sharp. It felt personal, like an old wound freshly reopened.
The memories faded. Too soon. Disorientation seized him, and he gasped, clutching his chest—not in pain, but in emptiness. The frozen chamber was silent once more. This time, the clarity scared him more than the previous chaos. He wasn't just battling beasts and trials anymore. He'd inherited something profound, something he didn't yet understand. Who had this body belonged to? What had made them so powerful, so full of sorrow?
And what would the cost be for him now?
Still shaking, Kieran forced himself upright. He pressed a hand to the wall for support, his fingers leaving faint imprints in the frost-covered stone. The sharp angles of the shattered creatures glittered like stars around him as he stumbled onward toward the exit. There was no glow, no warmth, only a faint ridge carved into the chamber's far wall where ice had not yet crept.
He felt it before he saw it. Something new. Subtle vibrations in the air, thrumming softly against his temples, pulling him forward like a whisper threading through the silence. Ahead, the ice gave way to a smaller, circular chamber. Inside it, an obelisk of black stone rose from the ground, its surface etched with glowing blue runes. A low, rhythmic hum filled the air around it, resonating like a heartbeat. The only other exit from the room was a gate carved with similar runes, and beyond it, faint shadows suggested a passage further into the depths.
Kieran's knees nearly buckled. Another test. Another trial.
The memory from earlier flickered faintly at the edges of his mind. That person's calm control, the frost that bowed to their will like an obedient hound. Could he do the same? His magic had saved his life, but it wasn't his. It was wild, untamed, and the thought of calling on it again terrified him. But he had no choice.
Hands trembling, he walked to the center of the chamber. The stream of energy coursing around the obelisk felt colder with every step, seeping into his skin, rooting itself deep inside his core. Closing his eyes, Kieran reached inward, feeling for that familiar, sharp presence. It answered slowly, reluctantly, as though testing his resolve. Frost gathered at his fingertips, extending outward in delicate patterns.
The memory's guidance felt faint but reassuring, just enough to steady him. He inhaled, willing the ice forward, and it obeyed, forming a thin lattice that wove around the obelisk's exterior. The magic rippled to life, and the runes on the gate flickered before blazing with renewed energy. With a low creak, the gate shifted open, revealing the path forward.
Kieran collapsed to his knees again, breath coming ragged and thin, but his lips curled into something close to a smile. He had survived the horrors of the last chamber, tamed the edge of his magic just enough, and taken one step closer to mastering it.
But there was no comfort in the victory. The faint hum of the obelisk behind him seemed to echo with whispered purpose. Whoever the original owner of this body had been, they had left something behind. Power, pain, and fragments of a history Kieran suspected he was only beginning to understand.
Silently, he stood, his legs shaky but firm beneath him. If there were answers to be found, they lay farther ahead. With a final glance back at the frozen carcasses and the icy wasteland he had created, Kieran stepped through the gate into whatever came next.