The old man’s hand was frail, but he still shook Yig’s with confidence. “I suppose you’re here for the sword,” Thuzen said, pulling back fro

  The old man’s hand was frail, but he still shook Yig’s with confidence.

  “I suppose you’re here for the sword,” Thuzen said, pulling back from the shack.

  “Yes, that’s why. Do you mind if I ask why you’re here?”

  “Well… I mind a little. But to be fair, my living situation is a bit peculiar at first glance. I was asked to guard this entrance as a favor for a good friend. He said that one day his daughter would come looking for the sword he left behind, and that I’d need to guide her through. But he did say I could help anyone else who came looking—if she couldn’t get here first. Seemed a bit harsh, but that’s what he asked of me.”

  “I’ve come to get it for her,” Yig replied, uncharacteristically formal. “The daughter, that is.”

  “Right. Well, not exactly how he would’ve preferred it, but there’s nothing in the rules against it.” Thuzen let out an awkward chuckle, his voice dry and tired with age.

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” Jordan said, “how do we enter?”

  Shack grimaced. “We walk in. That’s how we enter.”

  “Don’t be so quick to whip out sarcasm, young lad,” Thuzen said, shaking his staff. “Your man has the right idea—there are many wrong ways to walk in, and only one correct one.”

  Thuzen shuffled to the cave wall and knocked his stick against it three times in a practiced rhythm. The icicles clinging to the cave roof trembled, then dropped one by one—some shattering, but most piercing the icy ground. The old man turned back to the group.

  “Are you still sure you want to enter?”

  Yig nodded.

  “Very well.” Thuzen waved them forward. They walked across jagged terrain, stepping carefully around chunks of fallen ice. After moving a fair distance ahead, Thuzen raised his staff again and tapped out the same rhythm. The effect repeated—more icicles falling in precise succession. A few feet later, he did it once more.

  “How many times do we have to do that?” Shack asked.

  “We?” the old man replied, feigning offense. “I believe I’ve been doing the heavy lifting. And that was the last time, lad.”

  “What would’ve happened if we didn’t?”

  “What do you think?”

  Shack looked rattled by the implication. But Yig didn’t understand why. Surely the threat of dark soldiers slaughtering their friends outweighed the risk of being impaled by a few icicles?

  The deeper they went, the colder it became. The ceiling arched overhead in jagged, uneven curves. Icicles were fewer now, but they clustered in menacing bundles. Echoing through the tunnel came a steady dripping sound. As one drip faded, another took its place. Beneath their feet, ice chips crunched softly, and their hot breath hung visible in the air.

  “Old man—what was your name again?” Jordan asked.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Thuzen.”

  “Right. Thuzen… do you know why it’s so cold in here?”

  Darleth was definitely one for theatrics. I’m not sure how he did it exactly, but I know he was the one who placed it here.”

  Yig’s attention peaked at the mention of the name. They all knew who Thuzen was talking about when he referred to his friend—except maybe Shack. But even so… this strange man saying the hero’s name so casually… it felt strange. Of the few in Chestnut who had known Darleth personally, even fewer felt comfortable speaking of him. After all, he was the one who left—an action far too significant to forget in the town.

  “Place what?” Jordan asked.

  “The enchantment. Or whatever he would’ve called it.”

  “It’s supernatural?”

  “Oh yeah, definitely.”

  Yig’s ears perked up. “Supernatural? How long did it take him to create it?”

  “I don’t know. I rarely keep track of time. But I’ll tell you this—he was a smart one when it came to that kind of thing.”

  “Can you do anything like that?”

  “Yep.”

  Their heads snapped toward the old man, eyes wide with shock.

  “Whoa, that got you lot excited, didn’t it?” the old man chuckled.

  “What can you do?” Jordan asked.

  “Oh, simple stuff really. Push things, pull things… float things.”

  “You’re saying you can control things with your mind?”

  “No, no. I merely force objects in a direction.”

  “Doesn’t sound that supernatural,” Shack remarked.

  Thuzen shrugged.

  A far stronger, chilling gust swept through the group, nearly knocking some off their feet. Their heads twisted as it hit, eyes locking onto the same tunnel.

  The old man smiled. “We’re close. Tread with caution.”

  Yig stepped toward the source of the gust, fists clenched. “We’re close to the sword?”

  “That… and something else.”

  “What?”

  His grizzled grin widened. “I’m not quite sure yet. Shall we go find out?”

  After rounding a few corners, they came upon a large archway marking the entrance to an ornate chamber. Ice climbed the walls, forming shapes like fangs and claws. Along the ground, thick ridges of bright blue ice had formed platform-like hills. At the far end of the cave, atop one of these icy platforms, stood a sword with a glowing cyan blade, stabbed a few inches deep into the ice. Its hilt was solid gold, carved into the shape of a falcon’s head. Without a moment’s hesitation, Yig burst into a sprint toward the sword.

  Thuzen chuckled.

  “Yig, you idiot!” Jordan yelled. “What are you doing?”

  Yig didn’t flinch. His pace didn’t slow. His sole focus was the sword—nothing else mattered. The sooner he got to it, the sooner Jordan and Shack would be out of danger. As he drew closer, a figure began to form from the swirling snow. Within seconds, the body of a gray-skinned, skeletal creature emerged. Its limbs were thin as bone, its fingernails stretched a foot long, and its bloodshot eyes glared with unnatural intensity. A wide, toothy grin split its face, and a long, scarred tongue dangled from its mouth.

  Draped across its back—held in place by the horns jutting from its forehead—was a black cloak. Patches of ice clung to it like a patterned crust, some jutting outward like jagged icicles piercing through the fabric. Frost hissed from its grinning teeth as it exhaled and locked eyes with Yig.

  With a single leap, Yig launched forward and punched the creature square in the face. The impact rippled across its skin.

  Instantly, a stabbing chill swallowed his knuckles. Ice crept up his hand, binding him to the creature as they both crashed onto the slick ice floor. Yig pinned the creature’s shoulder with his foot and hammered his frozen fist in a desperate attempt to break free. The creature raised a clawed hand and struck toward Yig. With no time to spare, Yig twisted into a roll, nearly breaking his hand in the awkward maneuver.

  The creature’s claws wrapped around Yig’s arm, peeling his fist away from its face. It hoisted him high, spun him midair, and hurled him backward toward the others.

  His team rushed to his aid. Jordan caught Yig in open arms, sliding backward across the icy floor until the momentum slowed. He laid Yig down gently, then bolted forward with Thuzen, pulling the battle hammer from his back.

  “Why did you do that?” Shack shouted, crouching beside Yig.

  Clutching his side and speaking through clenched teeth, Yig replied, “I was getting the sword!”

  “What about us?”

  “I… I didn’t want you to—”

  “If Jordan didn’t bash it into your head, then I sure can! We’re not letting you do this alone!”

  Yig broke eye contact with a frustrated snarl. He heard Shack sigh, then charge toward the creature, drawing two daggers from his waist.

  Yig rose to one knee and peeled frozen chunks from his bleeding hand. His eyes welled with tears as he watched his friends, thoughts spiraling.

  Please just leave. After all, it’s my dream. Isn’t it? Don’t do it for me… what good has that ever done?