Chapter 16 – Echoes Beneath the Ice
The wind had changed.
As Kael and Lys trekked down the Icerend ridgeline, the air no longer stung with the bite of unnatural frost. It was just cold now—mundane, almost forgettable. The kind of chill that came from weather, not magic.
Kael didn't trust it.
Every few steps, he paused. The flame in his chest—the Silent Core—burned steady but low, like a lantern in a deep cavern. Its presence made the world feel more real, more sharp. Colors were richer. Sounds clearer.
But it also meant something was coming.
Something following.
Lys noticed it too.
"Don't look back," she murmured, hand brushing her hip where her blade was sheathed. "But we're being tracked."
"Human?" Kael asked.
"No." Her breath misted between them. "Too quiet."
They picked up the pace, leaving the broken towers behind. The snow turned to ice-crusted soil, then to frozen rock. Eventually, they found a narrow trade road—long abandoned, yet still walkable.
By dusk, they'd reached the edge of an old miner's village—abandoned like everything else in the Icerend region. Crumbled stone homes half-swallowed by snow. A collapsed forge. A bell tower, snapped in half.
Kael motioned to it. "There. We hold out till morning."
They made camp in the ruined bell chamber, barely shielded from the wind. Kael set a fire using the last of his emberwood, its crackle too soft for his liking.
Lys sat with her back to the stone, sharpening her blade with a piece of soulglass.
Then she froze.
"Kael," she said, voice low. "What do you hear?"
He cocked his head.
A hum.
Like metal vibrating.
No. Not metal.
A voice.
Not words. Not language. Just intent.
Then, like a knife sliding free of a sheath, it arrived.
A figure stepped into view just beyond the firelight—hooded, tall, robes trimmed with frost-bitten silk. No breath, no heartbeat. A black sigil glowed on its chest. Behind it, five others emerged, identical in posture, though each shimmered slightly different—as if reality bent awkwardly around them.
Kael's flame flared inside him.
> System Alert: Entities Identified – Wyrm Cult Vanguard
Designation: Frostborne Apostate – Soulbound Servants of the Second Mouth
Threat Level: High
Warning: Unknown ritual influence detected. Host may be of interest to opposing dragon faction.
Lys rose, blade half-drawn. "Cultists?"
Kael nodded once. "Worse. Apostates."
The lead figure stepped closer, pulling back its hood.
Where a face should've been—there was only polished glass.
It reflected Kael.
And the fire inside him flared brighter.
"You bear the breath of flame," the figure said, voice like frost cracking bone. "It does not belong to you."
Kael stood slowly, Emberfang in hand.
"Too bad," he said. "I'm not giving it back."
The Apostates moved as one.
Lys surged forward, blade flashing. Kael followed, fire trailing behind him in molten arcs. The Apostates struck back with cold that bit into the soul—shards of frozen Qi, condensed curses etched into the air.
Kael dodged the first, letting a fire arc counter it—and slammed into the second with a shoulder-check and burst of internal heat. The Apostle staggered, robes charring.
Lys danced through two others, blades carving spirals of mist and steel, but her strikes lacked full weight—their bodies weren't entirely there.
"Hit their cores!" Kael shouted. "The sigils!"
He called the flame deeper—not just the fire, but the will behind it. The Wyrm's breath answered.
Flames exploded from his palm in a spiral, draconic runes etched across the gout of fire. It slammed into the lead Apostle and shattered its illusion—leaving a corpse behind.
Dead.
For real.
> System Notice: Silent Flame Pulse Engaged – Soulbrand Effect Triggered
Target's spiritual core ruptured. Apostate link disrupted.
The remaining Apostates reeled back.
They did not retreat.
They knelt.
And from the shadows behind them… something stirred.
A woman stepped forward.
Not cloaked. Not masked.
Her hair was white-gold, her robes sleeved in midnight silk. And across her back was a weapon too large for elegance—a spine-forged glaive, humming with frozen wyrm energy.
Kael's grip tightened.
He recognized the aura.
A High Cultivator.
And from the look in her eyes, she recognized him.
"Red Flame Heir," she said, voice calm and unreadable. "How far you've wandered."
Kael's heart thudded.
Lys stepped protectively beside him. "Who the hell is she?"
Kael answered without looking away.
"…My sister."