The Migoi's last thought before consciousness left him was not of anger or pain, but of snow. As the creepy mana that rival his masters necromany, snuffed out the unlife animating his body, a cascade of memories surged forth...Like a dam of emotion breaking free after years of suppression.
He remembered the crisp mountain air of his homeland, far to the north in the high peaks. Back when he was simply an ordinary yeti, not an undead thrall, he had roamed those snowy slopes without a care beyond food and family.
He remembered finding a mate, a strong, gentle she-yeti with fur as white as fresh snowdrift and the joy he felt watching their cub take its first wobbly steps. In those days, they lived in secluded peace atop the world, under cerulean skies.
Then he remembered the day everything changed...the day those treacherous humans bearing the sun emblem invaded their territory. The soldiers of the Kingdom of Sun came without warning, armed with blades, arrows, and cruel sorcery. They stormed the high caves where the yeti clan made its home.
The Migoi (for that was what humans called his kind in fear, "migoi"), remembered roaring in defiance as his kin were butchered. He remembered his mate's fierce, proud stance as she placed herself between the humans and their cub. She fought ferociously, slashing with claws like daggers, but the humans had come prepared—beast tamers with binding chains and fire-tipped spears.
He remembered her last scream.....an awful keen that split the air....as a spear ran her through. The memory of that sound alone hurt more than any holy blade or lightning ever could.
He remembered the wails of their cubs as heavy nets ensnared them, the little ones dragged away to be sold as curiosities or trained beasts by the victors.
He remembered himself.....once strong and proud and reduced to a broken heap on a ledge, blood pooling from dozens of wounds as he watched the soldiers carry off everything he loved in chains. As night fell on that massacre, he waited for death, almost welcoming it. The pain in his body was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.
But death did not come. Instead, a hooded figure approached through the swirl of mountain snow. Green eyes warm with pity peered from under a dark cowl. The figure knelt by the dying yeti.
"Hmm, little beast, it seems life has not been kind to you either," the stranger said softly. The Migoi barely understood the human words, but he sensed no threat in them, only curiosity and... understanding.
The yeti mustered the last of his hatred, glaring with one good eye at this new human. If he'd had strength, he would have torn the man apart, but his limbs were numb and frost was creeping into his wounds. His heart ached not just with physical agony but with grief beyond measure. Why did it hurt so inside, more than the spears or arrows? What crime had they committed except living where humans wanted to claim?
Perhaps the hooded human read some of these thoughts in the yeti's tormented gaze. "I hate them too, you know," the man whispered, reaching out a hand as if to comfort. The Migoi was too weak to snap at it. Warmth spread from the human's touch, dulling the pain slightly. The yeti could smell him and oddly, he did not smell of fear or malice, but of earth and decay and something ancient. "The hypocrites of the Sun will pay for what they've done to both of us."
The Migoi's vision blurred. He didn't understand. Who was this man?
"I can give you the strength to take revenge," the soft voice continued, almost tender. "One day, my Lord will claim the central lands and put down the tyrants of the Sun. He is not so different from you. He, too, lost everything to their cruelty."
The yeti's ears barely caught the words "revenge" and "strength." Something stirred within his shattered heart: the faintest ember of purpose. Could he see his cubs again? Could he avenge his mate? He tried to speak, but only a wet gurgle came out.
The hooded stranger seemed to understand. He placed a surprisingly gentle hand on the yeti's brow, right above a deep gash where an arrow had grazed. "I can't save your life," he said, sorrow in those warm green eyes. "But I can give you a second one. Not life as you knew it but something different. A chance to fight on."
The yeti knew what this man was now. He had heard the human soldiers whisper the title in frightened awe during the battle's onset, when green fire had erupted along the ridge and felled the clan's strongest warrior: Soul-Stealer. A necromancer.
He should have hated him, another human meddling in nature, playing with death. But in that moment, gazing into those understanding eyes, the dying yeti felt only a desperate hope. He didn't want to die. Not like this, alone in the cold, his family gone. If there was even a sliver of a chance to continue existing, to seek retribution, to possibly, maybe find what became of his cubs... he would take it.
He closed his eyes and, with the final thought he could muster, he accepted.
That night, under the howling mountain wind, the necromancer performed a dark miracle. With ancient rites and forbidden craft, he bound the yeti's departing soul to a new purpose. The yeti's broken body was knitted back together, infused with a flicker of the necromancer's own power. The creature that rose from the blood-soaked snow was no longer a mere yeti, it was something else, a ghost-fire burning in its dead eyes, a Migoi loyal to the Soul-Stealer.
The necromancer had smiled kindly and given him a name: Norgu. It meant "fierce snow" in some old tongue. It was the first time the yeti had been given any name.
From that day, Norgu served willingly. He owed his new existence to the Soul-Stealer, and in return he exacted vengeance on any Sun Kingdom forces the necromancer set him upon. It was satisfying work, at first, tearing apart those human soldiers like they'd torn his mate. But in quieter moments, Norgu felt the emptiness. He never found his cubs. He knew not whether they lived as captives or had perished on some far-off auction block. That void made him angry, and the necromancer channeled that anger to make him stronger.
Now, as he lay dying a second and final time in a distant forest far from any snow, Norgu felt... relief. The unholy fire sustaining him had been snuffed by that strange young outsider's power. The bond to his master was cut; he was free in a way he hadn't been for decades. And as the creepy mana and holy light consumed him, turning undead flesh to dust, Norgu felt the presence of his mate, of his clan, as if they were waiting just beyond a veil of white.
His glowing eyes dimmed, and a low, sad growl rumbled from his throat—less a threat, more a mourning. In it was all the sorrow he had carried, the regret, and yes, the gratitude for an end to it all.
In his final moment, Norgu saw a vision: a snowdrift under the morning sun, two small yetis playing while their mother watched. The image brought him peace.
Then the Migoi known as Norgu closed his eyes for the last time, and his massive body crumbled into cold ash, his spirit released to whatever beyond awaited—perhaps to finally join those he loved in the endless snows of the afterlife.
A/N : check out author's note at the end.