Alvian, unseen, kicked the back of his knee. The spell misfired, blowing up three Acolytes.
The confusion was total. By the time Valeria and the squad hit the line, the enemy formation was already broken.
They breached the Sanctum.
The interior of the Frost Sanctum was a cathedral of nightmares.
The walls were lined not with stone, but with frozen bodies. Villagers, travelers, missing students—all encased in clear ice, their faces frozen in eternal screams. They were arranged in spiral patterns that funneled mana toward the center of the mountain.
"By the Founders..." Elara gagged, covering her mouth. "They're... they're batteries."
"Don't look," Alvian ordered sharply. "Focus on the living. We can't help the dead."
They were in the Subvaults, the lower levels of the complex. The air here was thick with violet mist.
"We need to go up," Valeria said, checking the map. "The ritual chamber is at the summit."
