The next day, we waved goodbye to the villagers of Hollowmouth as we moved towards the north, to the frigid range of the Dragonclaw Mountains. Our travel would be slower than usual, though, as Mick somehow convinced the village elder to lend us a few packs of extra supplies in the form of rations, torches, cold clothing, and a pair of climbing gear.
As we travelled, Mick would pull out a medallion. Wooden in make, but it had a gorgeous carving across its face. From the angle of which I could see, it seemed like an insignia bearing a dragon head.
"What's that for?" I asked, feeding into my curiosity.
"Some kind of pass," he replied as he tossed the medallion my way. I raised my hand in instinct and felt the item rest comfortably against my palm before I studied the medallion once more, confirming my assumptions. Although, as I looked closer, I could see that the wood lacked damage or crude cuts along its design. It felt as if a true professional, maybe one from House Verdant or another from Adamant, carved this insignia with careful precision. It was beautiful.
"The elder said that we might face a checkpoint. A bastion, he says. We need that to pass through the gates. Told me it was some kind of confirmation that we could pass through and explore the mountains." He added, clarifying the use of said medallion.
"And if it doesn't work?"
"Guess we gotta find another way through." He'd shrug
Soon, we could feel the cold settling in. Our steps begin to land on softer ground, causing footprints to form in whatever layer of snow was around us at the time. The fresh powder crunched under our footwear as we continued to tread carefully towards the north. As the snowy breeze blew by, I couldn't help but shiver against its icy breath.
The cold wasn't a familiar sensation as winter occasionally passes through the seasons, but the cold of the North was something entirely different. Even with the sun in the sky, hidden behind a blanket of gray clouds, one would typically feel a hint of warmth during the day. However, the northern cold bit into your skin at every opportunity, like a rabid animal searching for food.
What caught my attention, though, was the fact Mick seemed to be used to these climates. He did not react to the change in climate, nor was he disturbed by the sudden cold. Despite being distracted by his own gear as well, he seemed to be moving as if he had memorized these paths before. I couldn't help but wonder if Mick is an Adamant. He never really wore any colors during the trials, nor was he sporting any family insignia. Strange.
As I continued to wonder about this, I was swiftly brought back to reality when Mick pointed forward and called out.
"There it is!" He pointed towards the space beyond the cliffs and into the horizon. Looking over at where he was pointing, we could see a large structure built along a gap within the mountain range. The walls seemed to be as black as coal, a beautiful but intimidating contrast compared to the orderly plains of white we had seen so far.
It would take a while longer until we had arrived on the straight road that leads to the Bastion gates. The large structure we had seen from the distance had now turned into a towering wall that stretched for quite a distance as it stood against the mountain range. Guards, wearing the same armor as we had seen patrolling the streets of the district but with more fur and leather padding, seemed to be posted all along the wall. Some stood by the wooden and metal gate, while others were spread out along the wall, patrolling the wooden platforms and manning the large ballistae stationed on the towers that support this massive structure.
There weren't as many visitors in comparison to the roads leading towards House Adamant; however, the only life I could see around us were the guards, Mick and I, and the various bones from large creatures that seemed to be scattered and buried across the stretch of snow. I would have guessed that this bastion does not only serve to keep things out but keep things in as well...
Upon our arrival, a guard would raise his hand and walk up.
"Citizens, turn back now. This is a dangerous area." The guard spoke, her voice echoing under the thick metal plate helmet.
"We're here for a quest!" I spoke back, pulling out the medallion. As I let it hang on my hand, I couldn't help but be anxious. Although the elder told us that this was our way to pass through the gates, a nervous chill would still run down my spine.
The guard would stow her spear before walking up and inspecting the medallion before nodding.
"Right. However we still-"
Before she could say anything else, a loud drum beat would echo from the top of the wall with soldiers seemingly rushing towards their positions. Before we could even react to the sound, we would hear a scream rushing from the wall followed by a loud thud. Turning around, we would see a soldier crushed by the fall and crunch of his own armor. Blood spread out across the fresh snow. His bones piercing whatever cloth and gap it could find.
My eyes lock onto that very same dead body, and suddenly the noises of my surroundings begin to fade into muffles. I could only hear my breath. How it slowly falls into shallow exhales and quick inhales. I could feel my heart. Beating like the drums that echo from the bastion walls and just as intensely. I could see Oscar. Bloodied and torn to shreds in place of that soldier's body. The dark began to surround me. Screams begin to fill the back of my mind before Mick and the guard manage to snap me out of my trance by dragging me closer to the gates.
"Yo, Torin! You alright, bud?!" he yelled, leaning against the wall, brandishing daggers in his hands. "You kinda froze for a quick minute there! We ain't got time, we gotta move!" He continued, looking outside as if he was hiding from something.
I shook my head to regain my composure before peeking out and seeing massive creatures flocking the wall. I couldn't see clearly what they were from this point of view, but whatever they were, they seemed to be dangerous enough to combat an Adamant Bastion. I pulled back, taking a deep breath before turning to the guard.
"What's happening? What's attacking us?" I asked, settling my bag down to draw Obsidian from the side.
"Cloaked, or at least something similar. We've been calling them Wraiths. For some reason, they can appear without the help of the Eclipse. It's been a problem for months now." the guard explained, grabbing her spear before turning back towards us.
"You two are adventurers, correct? Help us defend the wall, and we will reward you greatly. We need all the help we can get." she pleaded.
Mick and I looked at each other. Without even saying a word, I could already tell Mick was ready to accept. In turn, I couldn't help but agree.
"Lead us up there." Mick replied.
Pushing through crowds upon crowds of heavily armored soldiers, we walked through torch-lit hallways and climbed stairways before eventually turning a corner to a wide room leading to a rope lift.
"This way, we can get up to the top faste-"
A deafening snap echoed as the rope broke, prompting soldiers nearby to scream warnings. A heavy crash resonated through the lift shaft. Once the dust settled, it became clear that the lift was destroyed, the rope having frozen and snapped due to a sharp object. Blood marks were visible among the rubble, a clear indication that some soldiers had been on the lift when it fell.
"Shit. This way." The guard quickly turned around and led us back towards the flights of stairs within one of the towers.
Soldiers continued pouring through. Some screaming at their fellowmen about supplies and arrows. There were some leaving themselves behind to load up boxes of ballista ammo on a flat cargo lift as they quickly but carefully used the nearby crank to lift it up to the top of the wall. Their coordination seemed like chaos at first, but the more I observed the soldiers, the more I realized that they seemed to be working in routine. It was as if this entire thing happened all the time to them, and the practice of their stations had become second nature at this point.
The higher we went, the colder it got. However, we soon discovered that it wasn't because of the height or the snow. As we pushed through one of the doors that led to the top of the walls, we would be audience to soldiers fighting Cloaked dressed in a white haunting cloak instead of the usual darkness that surrounds them. The Cloaked appeared to be more physical in nature, with frozen bodies wrapped in dark tendrils beneath their cloaks. These bodies were as thin as their skeletons, their eyes absent, and their hands replaced by long, icy claws that seemed to have grown out of their fingers.
The sound of yelling and haunting moans fill the wall. As well as the loud snapping of rope against wood as ballistae keep firing against the seemingly endless swarm of undead.
These Wraiths seemed to be causing a small storm causing a significant drop in temperature and ultimately slowing down the soldiers inside. However, this did not stop the soldiers from fighting back as they pushed through the piercing cold and took down quite a few of these undead combatants with ease. Those taken out by the soldiers seemed to break apart like shattered ice and a plume of smoke seemed to escape the white sheets that cover their being.
Without skipping a beat, both Mick and I decided to join the fight. Running in, I swung Obsidian and crushed the skulls of a couple of Wraiths before being forced to grab one and throw it to the ground.
Mick was more agile in his approach. Instead of using the daggers as normal, the man would throw these weapons at the flying Wraiths, the ones that have flown out of reach from the soldiers below and have evaded the ballista fire. The daggers would imbed themselves into wherever they could land before the one Wraith would combust into fire and the other would be weighed down by a stalagmite that formed around the dagger. He had these daggers tucked away in some sort of a harness that wrapped around his chest from underneath the jackets he wore, allowing him to draw and fire daggers at a whim.
However, as we continued to fight, it became clear to everyone that this swarm of enemies seemed endless. These creatures kept emerging from the walls of the storm, as if they were birthed from the cold itself. It felt as if... They were being created...
It was only an assumption, so as I fought, I searched for any hint of a sigil. A glow, a mark, or any sort of clue that lifeblood was being used by something or someone. However, fighting and searching had left me at a standstill. I couldn't do one without neglecting the other. I had to choose somehow. Maybe I should hide for a moment and gain my bearings?
As I started to assess the situation, my eyes caught the slightest glimmer of a thin thread floating across the battle. The faintest glimmer of white energy hovered across the storm. I turned my head to see where this thread was leading, and it seemed to draw me back to the far end of the battlefield, connecting to a dead soldier slumped against the battlement. I couldn't help but wonder what this could mean. Was it possible for a dead soldier to be the source? Could it?
I spun around and dashed through the chaos of battle toward the soldier. However, as I drew closer, more Wraiths emerged to obstruct my path. I swung my weapon, driving them back and clearing a route, while Mick seemed to sense my intentions and joined me in fending off the enemies that were swooping in.
As I arrived, I planted a foot firm against the ground and with two hands pressed against the handle of Obsidian, I twisted my body and started a swing against the dead body.
I expected a connection. A disgusting crunch against the helmet and maybe crushing the body itself. However, my pickaxe was stopped midair by a barrier. Obsidian bounced back and my balance was broken. A sigil disappearing from the body's hands before the dead soldier began to move.
"RETURN TO THE TRUE GOD!" The body screamed before striking a dagger against my side.
I grit my teeth against the pain as I fell on my back. The soldier pulls the dagger back before preparing a downward strike from his position on top of me, but instead of bringing the dagger downwards, the soldier's hands were stabbed by Mick's daggers and were then frozen solid through their reactive magic. With this chance, I pushed him off and brought Obsidian up before smashing downwards into the man's chest, planting obsidian deep into his armor and body.
The soldier would lie limp and as if on cue, the Wraiths soon disappeared. Debris of their frozen corpses came raining down like hail as the storm slowly dissipated, opening the wall to the natural snow of Dragonclaw Mountains. Silence rolls over the battlefield as the last of the Wraiths broke apart.
This silence fell short, however, as the soldiers soon erupted into a cheer. Each soldier started to celebrate their victory, and I couldn't help but join in on the mood as I grew a wide smile myself. Mick soon joined in and cheered along with the soldiers. However, my own celebration was cut short as I turned towards the dead body that laid before me. I knelt down, clutching my wound as I did so before pulling the helmet off the soldier.
This unveiling revealed a man with his face filled with mysterious markings. From any of my studies, I had never seen any of these markings anywhere. They seemed to be chaotic in design. Geometric yet not symmetrical. It was as if he was trying to imitate the symbols of the main Primal elements but in a crude fashion. It felt incomplete. What's worse is that these markings weren't made from ink nor lifeblood. They seemed to be carved out of his own skin and healed over from whatever source of makeshift medicine he could find.
Who-- or what-- he is, he seemed to be connected to the Eclipse somehow. This was a massive break. However, as I tried to stand, my vision began to blur and my mind ached with a splitting headache. My body refused to stand and soon, I collapsed on to the floor. Once again, in a pool of my own blood. I turned my head towards the guards on the wall, and as my eyes begin to close, among the crowd of guards rushing over to help, I could barely see the silhouette of a woman dressed in white standing among the crowd. I wondered who she could be before I surrendered my consciousness.