The mountains of Noril stretched endlessly into the sky, their jagged peaks tearing through the clouds like the teeth of some forgotten beast. The air grew colder as the children—no, the warriors they were becoming—marched upward with the rest of the empowered villagers at their side. Snowflakes drifted lazily, though the tension in the group was anything but calm. Every crunch of boot against the ice sounded louder than it should have, echoing between cliffs.
Cain walked in front, shoulders squared, his silver hair catching faint glimmers of morning light. He had not said much since the attack on Kiralyn. Rage still lived inside him like a wildfire, smoldering and waiting to consume everything. Every child they passed, every hollow-eyed villager that limped behind them, added weight to his resolve. He couldn't let their suffering be for nothing.
Lucien trailed just behind, hood drawn, his gaze sharp and restless. He fiddled with a dagger in his hands, spinning it over his knuckles absentmindedly. The twins' newfound crushes walked near him—Liora, with her warm brown eyes and braid that reached her back, and Elias, tall and wiry with his bow slung over his shoulder. Lucien could feel the shift whenever they glanced at the twins, the quiet awkwardness of emotions too fresh to name. For once, Lucien didn't tease. The gravity of their journey pressed down too heavily.
Ayden limped at the rear, bandaged arm tight against his chest. He cracked jokes now and then—some half-hearted, some forcing a laugh out of Elias and Liora—but even his humor felt subdued. His eyes lingered on the horizon too often, searching for threats that might leap from shadow.
Rei kept her place at the center, guiding them with quiet certainty. Her dark cloak whipped in the wind, and she carried the scroll they had taken from Kiralyn. Whenever Cain caught her eyes, he saw something unspoken there—fear. Not of their enemies, but of what the scroll demanded.
Halfway up the mountain, they paused at a ridge. Below, the valley stretched, scarred by blackened earth where fire had swept through. The smoke of the attack on Kiralyn still clung to the air. Liora's hands tightened around her bow.
"They burned everything," she whispered. "Even the orchard."
Cain's jaw flexed. He placed a hand on her shoulder, awkward but steady. "We'll rebuild. After this."
Rei shook her head. "Not after this. Villages won't matter if we fail. There won't be orchards or rivers or children left to save. You must understand—the seals aren't just locks. They're consuming you piece by piece. With every one we break, it will demand something in return."
"Then let it demand from me," Cain snapped. "Not from them. Not from the kids. I won't—"
"Cain." Lucien's voice cut sharp through the wind. "Stop pretending you get to choose. If the seals want you, they'll take you. Same goes for me. Same goes for all of us."
The two brothers locked eyes, a storm brewing between them. For a heartbeat, it seemed fists might fly. But then Ayden staggered forward, placing himself between them with a tired grin.
"Look at us," he said, voice hoarse. "We're freezing, bleeding, half-dead, and still bickering like kids fighting over scraps at the table. Maybe... maybe that's the point. Maybe that's what keeps us human."
Cain's anger softened, if only slightly. Lucien sheathed his dagger. Rei's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't argue.
They moved again, climbing until the snow grew waist-deep and the sky turned gray with the promise of a storm.
At last, they reached a plateau where jagged stones circled a frozen altar. The structure was ancient, carved long before kingdoms rose and fell. Symbols were etched into the ice itself, glowing faintly as they approached. The air thrummed with power—dangerous, unrelenting.
"This is it," Rei said, voice trembling despite her usual composure. "The seal of Noril."
Liora stepped closer, breath fogging in the cold. "What do we do?"
Rei held out the scroll. The red ink shimmered as if alive, twisting into shapes that shifted too quickly to comprehend. "One of you must open it. The seal will decide who bears its trial."
Silence followed. None of them wanted to move. Cain's hand twitched, but before he could reach, Elias stepped forward. His green eyes burned with determination.
"My village is gone," Elias said. "My parents... they didn't make it out. If there's even a chance I can carry some of the burden, I'll do it."
Lucien's throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to drag Elias back, but the look in his eyes was unshakable. For once, Lucien didn't have a sharp retort. He simply nodded.
Rei placed the scroll in Elias's hands. The moment he touched it, the ground shuddered. The altar cracked, ice splintering like glass. Symbols erupted in crimson light, and a voice boomed across the mountain, ancient and merciless.
"WHO CLAIMS THE BURDEN OF NORIL?"
Elias stood tall, though his hands shook. "I do."
The air split open. A figure emerged from the altar—an armored wraith with a helm of horns and eyes like burning coals. Its sword was carved from frozen fire, crackling with energy.
The villagers gasped. Children clung to one another. Even Cain took a step back.
Rei whispered, "The Guardian."
The wraith raised its blade. "TO PROTECT THE SEAL IS TO DESTROY THE WEAK. TO BREAK IT IS TO PROVE YOUR WORTH. SHOW ME YOUR STRENGTH, MORTALS."
Snow whipped into a blizzard. The group braced themselves. Elias notched an arrow, his breath steady despite the storm raging around him. Cain unsheathed his blade. Lucien twirled his dagger once, then let it rest at his side, eyes narrowed.
Ayden cracked his knuckles, muttering, "Guess we're not freezing to death after all."
The Guardian struck first, sword slicing through the air with a roar that shattered the stone beneath their feet. The battle for Noril had begun.
And somewhere, far below in the palace, their parents still waited, unaware of how close their children stood to the edge of becoming something more—or something monstrous.