The Iron Pass was a narrow, jagged throat of black rock that served as the only gateway to the northern provinces. Under the Queen's rule, it had been transformed into a fortress of brass and heat. Huge pipes ran along the canyon walls, pumping artificial warmth into the air to prevent the natural snow from blocking the Vanguard's supply carriages.
Clevatess stood at the mouth of the pass, the wind whipping his raven-feather mantle around his frame. The midnight-black tunic he wore seemed to drink in the pale light of the morning, standing out against the gray stone of the mountains. Behind him, Alicia and Nelluru prepared for the ascent, their movements sharp and silent.
The heat here is unnatural, Alicia muttered, wipes of sweat already forming on her brow despite the high altitude. It smells like burning oil and rusted iron.
It is a fever, Clevatess said, his eyes scanning the Sun-Gate towers built into the cliffsides above them. The Queen thinks she can cure the world by burning away its nature. She has forgotten that a fever eventually kills the host.
High above, a metallic screech echoed through the canyon. A Sky-Reaper, a massive vessel shaped like a jagged shard of brass, drifted into view. Its underside glowed with a fierce orange light as it patrolled the clouds, searching for any sign of the resistance. The glass observation deck at the front of the ship glinted like a predatory eye.
They are looking for the shadow that broke the ridge, Nelluru whispered, her lime-green aura dimming to a faint flicker to avoid detection.
Then let them find the winter, Clevatess replied.
He stepped into the center of the pass and knelt, pressing his palm against the heated stone floor. The violet glow of his Absolute Zero surged downward, not as a blast, but as a silent infection of cold. The pipes along the walls began to groan. The brass, forced to expand by the heat and now suddenly commanded to freeze, began to buckle.
A sound like a thousand glass bells rang out as the pipes shattered, spraying freezing mist into the air. The artificial heat vanished in an instant, replaced by a biting, majestic cold that turned the sweat on the canyon walls into silver frost. The Sky-Reaper above lurched, its engines sputtering as the sudden drop in temperature choked its thermal intake.
The King had arrived at the gate, and the metal glass of the Queen's empire was starting to crack.
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