The Sovereign-V2: C11: Star Fête’s Ashes

The Sovereign-V2: C11: Star Fête’s Ashes

The air in the hidden warren didn’t just freeze; it screamed. Hoarfrost exploded across the roughhewn walls with the sound of shattering glass, jagged white lightning bolts spreading faster than thought. The lone lantern’s flame guttered and died, plunging the cavern into near total darkness, broken only by the frantic crimson pulse of the Twin Star scars on Shiro and Kuro’s forearms and the icy constellations swirling in Ryota’s and Corvin’s eyes. Breath misted and froze instantly, falling like diamond dust. A wave of absolute, soul numbing cold rolled forth from the tunnel Mira had indicated, the passage meant to be their escape route, carrying a sound like a million frozen voices whispering in unison, an echo of the Frostway’s suffocating dread and the Garden’s petrified screams. Beneath it, the horrifyingly distinct scrape scrape scrape of crystalline claws on stone grew louder, closer.
"It ends where it began."
Shiro and Kuro’s voices, grim and perfectly synchronized, hung in the sudden, suffocating silence that followed their declaration. The words weren’t defiance; they were grim acceptance, a recognition of the nightmare circling back to claim them.
Then chaos erupted.
"LIGHT! NOW!"
Ryota’s roar shattered the paralysis. He surged forward, a mountain of scarred plate and fury, planting himself between the encroaching darkness and the group. Starbreaker ripped from its harness, the massive blade flaring with Polaris light, a sudden beacon that pushed back the shadows, revealing the horror advancing from the tunnel mouth.
It wasn’t a Hound. It was wrongness given form. A shifting, multi limbed silhouette woven from jagged shards of absolute zero ice and solidified void shadow. It had no distinct shape, flowing like spilled ink across the frozen floor, but the claws, dozens of them, needle sharp, crystalline, scraping the stone with that awful sound, were terrifyingly real. Eyes, or voids that served as eyes, pulsed with a sickly blue white light deep within its shifting mass. The cloying sweetness of decaying lilies, thick as Nyxara’s Garden, washed over them, mixed with the sterile reek of deep space.
Mira
shrieked, stumbling back, clutching her fractured crow lens. "The cold! It’s thinking! Hungry! So hungry!" Her crow let out a deafening KRAWWK!, wings beating frantically against the unnatural freeze.
Juro
was already moving, a shadow with knives. He darted low, not towards the main horror, but towards the periphery where the frost was rapidly spreading up the walls, seeking to encase them. His blades flashed, hacking at the encroaching ice tendrils with desperate speed. "Don’t let it seal us in! Move! Find another way!"
Corvin
didn’t shout. He flowed like oil on water towards the advancing entity. His gloved hand, bearing the dark stone ring that seemed to devour the scant light, snapped upwards. Not towards the creature, but towards the ceiling above it. He didn’t snap his fingers; he twisted his wrist. There was no sound, but a massive, ice encrusted stalactite directly above the shifting void form
detonated
inward. Frozen shrapnel and tons of rock hammered down onto the creature, driving it back into the tunnel entrance with a screech of shattered ice and furious, subsonic vibration. The ground shook. Dust and ice rained down.
The ring. That fucking ring. The thought was a jagged ice shard in Kuro’s mind, piercing through the blinding agony radiating from his corrupted arm and the terror of the advancing void. As Corvin moved, the ring glinted dully in the Polaris light, the dark stone absorbing the radiance around it. Where…? It wasn’t just familiar; it was a ghost from a half remembered nightmare, a shape glimpsed in forbidden archives his father had once drunkenly bragged about melting down. Oji vaults? Before Ryo purged them? A sigil of the Old Families? Gelidus? His mind scrabbled, a battlefield choked with pain and static. The heavy setting, the way it seemed to drink light… Mother? Did she…? The slippery memory vanished, drowned instantly by a fresh, searing lance of agony as the frost tendrils in his arm pulsed violently, reacting to the proximity of the Blight entity. Never mind just the Ice fucking with me again. Kuro dismissed it as an illusion created by the agony.
Haruto
was beside Shiro, his starlit dagger humming, its light a thin silver shield against the encroaching cold. "Shiro Kuro! The scars! Can you push it back? Like in the cavern?" His voice was tight, analytical even amidst the terror.
Shiro gritted his teeth against the white hot fire grinding in his fused wrists. The scared palm pulsed erratically, resonating with the entity’s entropy of cold. "Kuro! Now! Harmony, not force!" He thrust his scarred palm forward, not at the creature Corvin had momentarily stalled, but at the wave of absolute cold radiating from it, threatening to freeze their blood solid. He focused not on destruction, but on barrier, on the memory of Aki’s hand clutching his, on the shared oath burning in his communion stone.
Kuro gasped, staggering. The static in his arm was a deafening roar, the frost tendrils writhing beneath his skin like trapped serpents tasting their kin. Harmony. Not force. Shiro’s words cut through the chaos. He slammed his good hand against Shiro’s outstretched arm, palm to scarred forearm. The contact sent a jolt through them both, Shiro’s agony, Kuro’s invasive cold, their shared terror and defiance.
FZZZZTTT WHUMPPP!
A ragged helix of swirling crimson and amber energy, laced with visible sonic distortions, flared into existence just as the wave of devouring cold hit. It was still raw just like every other time a last resort; it was raw, desperate, fuelled by immediate peril. The helix screamed as the absolute cold slammed into it, ice crystals forming instantly on its surface, cracks spiderwebbing through the helix.
This text was taken from NovelFire. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The backlash was immense it took a few seconds to kick in but once it did.
Shiro felt the
agony laced with death as white hot agony detonated in his nerve flayed wrists. It felt like the scar tissue was tearing open again, exposing raw, screaming flayed nerve endings to liquid nitrogen. The bones within, fused into a permanent, aching mass, vibrated at a frequency that threatened to shatter them into dust. He felt the crystal in his palm superheat, burning his flesh from the inside, a molten brand searing his life force. His vision swam with black spots edged with crimson fire. Every tendon in his arms felt stretched to snapping, muscles locking in sympathetic torment. A guttural scream tore from his throat, raw and ragged, echoing the shield’s sonic distortion. TOO MUCH! IT’S RIPPING ME APART!
Kuro felt
the invasive frost in his arm EXPLODED in response. It wasn't just spreading; it was digging. Needles of pure, alien cold burrowed deeper into marrow, scraping along nerve pathways with the sound of broken glass grinding on bone. The static buzz wasn't noise; it was a physical violation, a million insectile legs scrabbling inside his veins. He felt the grey translucence surge past his elbow like spilled poison, skin tightening, becoming brittle parchment over frozen stone. A fresh wave of nausea, thick and metallic, rose in his throat as the Blight feasted on the volatile energy they unleashed, mapping the pathways with predatory glee. His corrupted hand spasmed uncontrollably, fingers clawing at empty air, tendons standing out like frozen cables under impossible strain. He choked back vomit, tasting ozone and decay. IT’S EATING ME! FROM THE INSIDE!
But the helix held, barely, turning the lethal wave into a bone aching chill that still stole their breath but didn’t instantly freeze them solid.
"THROUGH HERE!"
Juro yelled from the opposite side of the chamber. He’d hacked through a curtain of thick, frozen roots partially concealing a narrow fissure in the rock. "Go! GO!"
Ryota didn’t hesitate. "MIRA! HARUTO! NOW!" He grabbed Mira, practically throwing her towards the fissure. Haruto was right behind, his dagger flickering, slicing at ice tendrils trying to seal the opening. Corvin gave one last twist of his ringed hand towards the tunnel entrance where the void entity was already reforming, shoving another section of rockfall down. He then turned and flowed towards the fissure, a silent, dark shadow.
"Shiro! Move!" Kuro rasped, shoving Shiro towards the fissure. The shield flickered and died as they broke contact. The wave of cold hit them fully, stealing Shiro’s breath, making his fused bones shriek. They stumbled after the others, scrambling through the jagged fissure just as crystalline claws scraped the stone where they’d stood moments before.
They spilled into a narrower, lower tunnel, the air marginally less frigid but still biting. The sounds of the void entity’s frustrated screeches and the grinding of rock echoed behind them, muffled by the collapse Corvin had triggered. They ran, a ragged, pain wracked group, guided only by the pulsing light of their scars and Ryota’s Polaris gaze. Kuro clutched his corrupted arm, the grey pallor now past his elbow, the static a constant, maddening counterpoint to his ragged breathing. Shiro cradled his wrists, every jarring step sending fresh bolts of agony up his arms, each impact a hammer blow on raw nerves.
Mira, guided by fragmented crow visions and whispered memories from the avian chorus only she could hear, led them through a series of twisting, downward sloping passages. Finally, she stopped before a section of the tunnel wall that looked no different from any other, rough, damp stone crusted with hoarfrost.
"Here," she whispered, her voice raw. She placed a hand flat against the stone, her fingertips tracing a pattern invisible to others. "Old barracks. Lady Veyne’s. Sealed long ago. The crows remember... a hidden way." Her fractured lens caught the faintest glimmer on the stone, a stylized hearth flame intertwined with a star, etched with fading precision.
Ryota stepped forward, his Polaris eyes widening. Recognition, sharp and painful, etched lines of grief onto his weathered face. "Elara..." he breathed, the name thick with memory. He placed his massive, gauntleted palm directly over the faint sigil, the metal scraping softly against the frozen stone. With a groan of long unused mechanisms protesting the frost, and a shower of ice dust like frozen tears, a section of the wall slid inwards and then aside. A wave of stale, cold air rushed out, carrying the scent of old leather, dry rot, faint woodsmoke, and the ghost of lamp oil.
They stumbled through into a cavernous space. Ryota’s Polaris light flared, illuminating
Lady Elara Veyne's Sky Hearth Barracks
. It was a sanctuary reclaimed by time and frost. Low stone platforms lined the walls, each bearing neatly folded, thick wool bedding, now dust laden sculptures under rime ice. Wooden weapon racks stood sentinel, empty save for a few training staves leaning precariously, their wood bleached pale by cold and age. A massive central hearth, cold and filled with decades of compacted, frozen ash, dominated the space like a dead heart. Tapestries hung on the walls, faded masterpieces depicting celestial maps, swirling nebulae in vibrant sapphire and amethyst, and constellations Haruto recognized, Kaya’s intricate work. One large tapestry showed the magnificent Star Tree in full bloom, heavy with bioluminescent flowers under a vibrant night sky, just as Ryota had described it, a stark contrast to the weeping, poisoned corpse they’d fled in the Garden. The air hung heavy, not just with cold, but with the palpable ghosts of camaraderie, disciplined study, and the unique warmth of a place dedicated to protecting wonder. Faint scratches on the stone floor near the hearth might have been from booted feet practicing drills, now filled with ice. The silence here was profound, layered over the memory of laughter and earnest debate.
"This was her 'Sky Hearth'," Ryota said, his voice thick, echoing slightly in the vast, cold space. He gestured around, his Polaris light tracing the faded tapestries, the empty racks. "Not just soldiers. Stargazers. Archivists. Engineers. Protectors of the celestial currents Kaya charted. Elara believed joy was a shield against the dark... and trained her people to be the flame." He walked to the cold hearth, placing a gauntleted hand on the soot blackened stone mantle. His knuckles, bruised and scraped from the Frostway fight, were bone white against the dark stone. "She hosted the last Star Fête here. Weeks before Kaya vanished. Laughter shook the rafters. Spiced wine flowed... starlight danced with the blossoms..." His voice hitched. He slammed a fist against the hearthstone, the impact a hollow THUD that echoed like a funeral drum in the stillness. "Now it’s just another frozen tomb. Another exhibit in Nyxara’s gallery of despair."

V2: C11: Star Fête’s Ashes