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The boots of the extermination company crunched to a stop at Snowhaven's entrance. Landre stood at the front of the formation, the mountain air biting at her face. Behind her, two banners swayed slightly in the cold wind—the Church's radiant sun and the Kingdom's crowned crest.
Nothing had changed since Landre last fled this place. The same empty houses, the same eerie silence. Only now, a blanket of mute snow covered everything, pristine and untouched.
Despite the elevation, the air felt unnaturally thick. Gray fog drifted between buildings, clinging to the ground in patches.
Commander Varius raised his hand and motioned forward. The company advanced slowly into the village, weapons drawn.
Paladins formed the frontline, swords and shields raised. Templars moved to flank Landre's position, their cloaks flowing slightly, armor gleaming dully in the weak light. Behind her stood two Inquisitors, wands secured at their belts, ceremonial lappets draping from ears to shoulders.
Guild adventurers and soldiers split up, moving between the empty houses. Doors creaked open. Boots scraped across wooden floors. One by one, they emerged shaking their heads—nothing.
One of the Guild adventurers knelt, examining the ground. "Not a single footprint. Not even wildlife." He stood, brushing snow from his gloves. "They know. Instinct tells them to stay away from whatever's beneath."
Landre's breath formed small clouds that dissipated quickly in the cold. She clutched her prayer book tighter. The extermination force spread out around her gave some comfort, but couldn't fully dispel the dread settling in her stomach.
Landre's eyes fixed on the dark opening in the mountainside. "The villagers... they must have returned to the mine."
She'd come prepared this time. No more running.
The group picked up their pace toward the mine entrance. No one spoke.
Landre took a breath and followed.
The mine's mouth gaped before them—a jagged opening carved into the mountainside, supported by weathered timber beams. A yawning darkness stretched beyond, swallowing the weak daylight. The chill emanating from within felt different from the mountain air—unnatural, almost hungry.
"We're here," she said, her voice steady despite the knot of tension in her chest.
Landre raised her hand, drawing on her light magic.
"Where shadows gather, let thy Light guide the faithful," she intoned.
A small orb of pure white light formed above her palm, hovering for a moment before drifting into the mine entrance. It illuminated rough-hewn walls, support beams, and a sloping path that descended into the earth—penetrating perhaps thirty paces before darkness swallowed it again.
"Nothing," muttered one of the Templars, his voice tight with anticipation.
Commander Varius stepped forward, eyes narrowed as he studied the entrance. "How deep is the mine?"
The Guild Master, Helyns, consulted a small notebook. "To our last record, it was a mana crystal mine, depleted half a decade ago. The locals had tried to dig deeper but nothing was found."
"Limited space within," Sarvin said, checking his blade. "We should station guards outside to secure our rear."
The Commander nodded. "Agree. Vanguards! Form the line."
A group of soldiers broke off from the formation, taking positions around the mine entrance. The rest pressed tighter together, narrowing their ranks.
A hulking adventurer stepped forward, clad in thick armor. A mace hung at his hip, and a big round shield of metal strapped to his back. Other shield soldiers moved to join him.
Landre conjured another light mote, this one brighter and set to float above her head. It moved as she did, casting her shadow before her on the rough stone floor.
"Ready?" Commander Varius asked, receiving nods all around.
They descended carefully, the darkness swallowing them step by step.
The air grew heavier with each step. Breathing became work.
Something glimmered along the rocky surface. Landre paused, squinting ahead.
"Look," she whispered, pointing.
Crystals had formed along their path—not just scattered fragments, but entire veins running through the walls and ceiling. They reflected her light mote, multiplying its glow into countless tiny stars that sparkled throughout the tunnel.
Sarvin stepped closer to one of the walls, running a gloved finger along a crystalline formation. "But you said this mine was depleted."
Helyns frowned, consulting her notes again. "According to records, yes. Years ago."
One of the adventurers—a weathered woman with a scar across her cheek—approached the wall and chipped off a small crystal with her dagger. She held it up to Landre's light, turning it over in her fingers.
"These are normal crystals. Don't worth much," she explained, tossing the fragment aside. "The pure ones could sell for a fortune—they're used to make weapons, trinkets, full of magical properties. These are just... pretty rocks."
The group continued forward cautiously until they reached a junction where the path suddenly split into two tunnels—one continuing downward, the other curving to the right.
Commander Varius raised his hand, signaling the group to halt. "What do we do?" he asked, looking between the two tunnels.
The scout who'd examined the footprints earlier stepped forward, crouching near the junction.
"Let me," he said quietly.
The group fell silent as he pulled a small pouch from his belt. He loosened the drawstring and revealed glittering powder inside—fine as sand but shimmering with its own faint luminescence.
He tossed a handful into the air.
The dust scattered, glowing softly as it fell. But instead of settling on the stone floor, the particles hung suspended in mid-air, drifting like tiny magical motes caught in invisible currents.
Some particles descended slowly and settled on the ground, forming distinct shapes—outlines of human feet, all pointing toward the downward path. Dozens of them, overlapping, as if many people had walked this way.
The particles still floating in the air began to pulse. Gently. Rhythmically. In and out, in and out. As if something far below was breathing, and the air itself moved with each slow exhalation.
The scout straightened, his expression grim.
"Downward," he said finally, gesturing to the sloping tunnel. "This path... it's newly formed. Recently dug." He touched the wall where crystals already encrusted the surface. "Yet the crystals have already grown."
The path spiraled downward into a natural cavern. The group followed it deeper, weapons ready.
The walls widened with each step, the narrow mine shaft opening into something vast. Their footfalls echoed despite their caution, multiplying through the darkness.
Crystals covered every surface now, dense and gleaming. Landre's light mote refracted through them, scattering into a thousand fragments that made distances impossible to judge.
The vanguard suddenly raised his fist, signaling for the group to stop. Everyone froze, weapons half-raised.
Something moved ahead as the path curved around a large stalagmite formation. Landre strained to see past the front line of soldiers.
"There," he whispered, pointing ahead where the cavern opened wider.
In the distance, barely visible in the scattered light, stood a solitary figure. Human-shaped but wrong somehow. Landre focused her light in that direction, revealing a villager—or what remained of one. Their skin hung loose from their frame as if it belonged to someone much larger. The figure swayed gently where it stood, but its eyes remained closed, face slack and unresponsive.
"Is that..." Landre began, recognizing the withered state she'd witnessed before.
"Be careful," Commander Varius cautioned, his voice barely audible.
Helyns gestured to one of her Guild adventurers, who silently nocked an arrow but held the draw. Everyone waited, muscles tense, for the figure to notice them or attack.
But no attack came. The figure simply stood there, swaying slightly, as if listening to music only it could hear.
"Why aren't they attacking?" Sarvin whispered, his confusion echoed in everyone's expressions.
Landre intoned another prayer. A second orb of light formed and merged with the first, rising higher, burning brighter.
The expanded glow revealed more of the cavern—and a sight that sent ice through her veins.
More villagers stood scattered along the walls and floor of the cavern. Large and small figures—men, women, and children—all transformed by whatever curse had claimed them. Some faced the walls, foreheads pressed against the cold stone. Others stood completely motionless.
"By the gods," Landre breathed, her hand instinctively clutching her prayer book tighter.
Landre watched the still figures with a mix of pity and dread. They advanced closer, vigilant with their weapons.
"It's almost as if they're..." she searched for the right word, "...sleeping."
"Or waiting," one of the Inquisitors moved to her side, voice low and tense.
Landre tilted her head, listening. The soft, raspy sound of breathing filled the cavern—dozens of breaths rising and falling in perfect unison. She shivered.
"They're all breathing together," she whispered. "Last time... they only attacked when one of them transformed."
Sarvin gripped his sword tighter. "What should we do with them?"
Landre studied the vacant faces, seeing echoes of the people they once were. These weren't monsters—they were victims.
"They don't seem to notice us," she said. "Or whatever's controlling them. We could risk waking it up if they're disturbed."
She straightened her shoulders. "We should continue. Just... don't harm them unless they attack. They're still people."
"I don't like this," Commander Varius muttered, eyeing the swaying figures.
"Neither do I," Landre admitted.
Helyns frowned. "We'll risk getting surrounded if they somehow wake up."
The decision hung in the air. They were here to exterminate the creature and save the villagers—if that was even possible now.
"We'll proceed with caution. Tight formation, shields ready," Commander Varius ordered.
They formed a tight formation around Landre, shields facing outward. Slowly, they began navigating between the unresponsive figures, every muscle tensed for the moment when those closed eyes might suddenly open.
The path ahead narrowed. Several villagers stood blocking the way, swaying between jutting stalagmites and sharp crystal formations. There was no room to pass in formation.
The company came to a halt.
"What should we do?" one of the Paladins asked quietly.
Commander Varius's jaw tightened. He didn't like what he was about to order.
"Break formation," he said finally. "Single file. Move through carefully. Do not touch them."
The shields lowered. The formation dissolved.
They moved forward one by one, sliding past the swaying figures. Landre found herself close enough to see their faces clearly for the first time.
A woman, perhaps thirty years old. Her cheeks had sunken inward, skin pulled tight over bone. A young boy, no older than ten, stood motionless beside her. An elderly man leaned against the cavern wall, eyes closed, mouth slack.
All of them hollow. All of them breathing in perfect unison.
The group reformed on the other side, shields rising again. The villagers hadn't moved. Hadn't opened their eyes. Hadn't acknowledged them at all.
They continued deeper into the mountain's heart.
The tunnel opened into a vast chamber. Darkness pressed in from all sides. Landre's light couldn't reach the far walls—only the tips of massive stalactites hung down from the void above, their crystalline surfaces catching faint glimmers.
Commander Varius held up his fist. The company halted at the threshold.
"Proceed with caution," he said quietly. "We don't know what's in here. And those villagers are still behind us."
"Two fronts," he ordered.
The vanguard split—half maintaining forward position, the others turning to watch their rear.
They moved deeper into the chamber, shields raised, weapons ready.
"Wait," one of the Templars whispered. "Something's reflecting the light. There, at the center."
"Saint Landre?" Sarvin asked, looking to her.
Landre redirected her light higher, guiding it toward the center of the chamber. The merged orb drifted upward, hovering above whatever stood there.
And then she saw it.
At the center of the chamber rose a massive crystal formation, different from all the others. This one was perfectly formed, its facets smooth and regular, unlike the jagged growths that covered the walls and ceiling. It stood from the floor like a translucent cage.
The light refracted through the crystal, illuminating what lay within in terrible detail.
A creature hung suspended inside. Its body was vaguely humanoid but wrong in every possible way. Leathery wings like those of a bat folded around its torso. Its skin had a sickly pallor, embedded with crystalline spikes that seemed to grow directly from its flesh. But most disturbing was its face—where a mouth should be, a circular opening ringed with teeth pulsated gently, like the maw of some grotesque worm.
"That's..." Landre whispered, unable to finish the thought.
"Alukah," Sarvin completed for her, voice tight with tension.
The creature hung motionless except for the slow rise and fall of its chest. Hibernating. Waiting.
Landre's heart hammered against her ribs as she stared at the monster. This was what had drained the life from an entire village, turning its people into hollow shells. This was what her brother had warned her about.
The squad spread out in practiced formation, weapons trained on both the crystal cage and the surrounding area. Everyone understood without being told—anything could happen at any moment. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a blade.