CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Gates Unsealed

"Let thy breath be renewed." The words left my mouth, steady and deep, but the moment they did, something snapped loose inside me. A wild surge of mana roared up from the ice orb hovering before me—raw, untamed, flaring like a signal fire. It pulsed outward, sharp and cold, the same way it did when people stepped beyond the ward's edge into the fog, thick with corruption. My head tilted back, eyes drawn to the sky. The ward's barrier, usually a faint shimmer most never noticed, glowed stark against the gray, runes pulsing red, jagged cracks splintering across it like veins in breaking glass.

A shiver crawled over my skin, prickling every nerve. The mist I'd conjured twisted in front of me, coiling like it had a mind of its own. Ice spread faster now, creeping over the streets, climbing the buildings—forming shapes that made no sense, jagged and wrong. I froze, my instincts screaming. Something was watching me. I spun around, scanning the thickening mist, but nothing met my eyes, just the heavy gray pressing in. Still, I felt it: countless gazes, cold and unblinking, buried in the shroud. My breath hitched, heart thudding against my ribs. I couldn't see them, but they were there.

Above, the ward shuddered harder. The red glow deepened, cracks multiplying, spreading like a web about to give. It was fighting—straining against something dark seeping through, but it was losing. I felt it in my bones: wills clashing, tearing at each other, spilling into my mist, into the ice. They shaped it, warped it into human forms stretched too thin, beast limbs bent backward, no reason or order, just chaos born of corruption.

That raw clash of intent hit me like a wave, unsettling even me. So many voices, so many desires, all clawing at the mana around us—it churned my stomach, made my hands tremble. I turned to the ice wall behind me, needing something solid to anchor me. That's when I saw it.

Hundreds of faces etched into the frost, staring out with mouths gaping, eyes hollowed, frozen in screams. Horror carved every line, despair twisting their features into masks I couldn't unsee. Some I recognized, dead people from the barricades, their bodies long cold. Their shrieks filled my head, piercing my ears, loud and real, like they were trapped inside me.

Fear spiked, though it wasn't mine, but the Dirgethinner's. I whipped around. The crimson beast loomed ahead, its skeletal frame quivering as my mist swept over it. That mournful hum it always keened shifted and cracked into a wail of agony. The corruption didn't care it had a core; it dug in anyway. Its oily skin bubbled, rippling like something alive writhed beneath. Its long arms twitched, dragging uselessly across the ground.

Then its mouth gaped wider, teeth glinting wetly. A new sound tore out, a guttural scream, as an arm—pale, warped, not its own, burst from that maw. It stretched upward, clawing at the air, impossibly long, while the beast's body buckled. Boils erupted across its frame, popping with a sickening squelch, black ichor oozing out. It collapsed, legs snapping under its weight, a final shudder rattling its spine before it went still, dead and broken by whatever nightmare had claimed it.

Then the sounds came. Whispers at first, faint and scattered, drifting from every corner of the mist. They grew and swelled into a chorus, hundreds strong, voices overlapping in a wail of torment. Not just humans but beasts too, howling, pleading, cursing. Some begged forgiveness, others spat hate at fates they couldn't escape. The mist thickened more, so dense I could barely see a few meters ahead, the air heavy and suffocating. Around me, ice twisted into new forms, humans with too many limbs, beasts fused with faces, all locked in silent screams.

One shape stopped me cold. Near my feet, a small boy carved in ice sat hunched, arms wrapped tight around an even smaller girl. He held her close, shielding her like a fragile thing. I stepped closer, drawn in, and a voice cut through the din—soft at first, trembling. "Don't worry, sis," he said, clear as if he stood beside me. "Father's coming back soon." My chest tightened. Two kids hiding from the beasts, waiting for help that never came. His words kept going, soothing her, promising safety. Then they broke apart, shattering into screams, high and desperate, as claws must've found them. Their cries joined the chorus, echoing with the others trapped in the ice.

I reached out, fingers brushing the boy's frozen shoulder. The ice creaked and then cracked. His head jerked, neck splitting with a dry snap, turning to face me. Hollow eyes locked on mine, unblinking, and his hand shot up, grabbing my arm. Cold bit into me, sharp and deep, his grip impossibly strong. I yanked back, twisting free, and his arm broke off, brittle and shattering into chunks. The rest of him crumbled, his sister's form collapsing with him, both dissolving into a pile of frost. A sudden gust swept through, scattering the dust into the mist, gone like they'd never been.

I staggered back, breath shallow, staring at where they'd stood. The mist pressed closer, a living thing now, out of my hands. Ice kept forming in wild, uncontrolled ways, twisting into shapes that mocked life: a beast with human hands clawing at its own face, a woman with a jaw stretched too wide, frozen mid-scream. The ward's red glow pulsed overhead, weaker now, runes flickering as cracks widened. My mist wasn't mine anymore. It pulsed with those wills, those dead, and I felt them still, watching, waiting, their despair soaking into everything.

Fear gripped me then, cold and tight, a sharp pang digging into my chest. Even my mind library couldn't shield me. Nothing in me was ready for this. The horrors piled up too fast, too many, overwhelming every shred of calm I'd ever known. I clawed at my arms, my neck, my face, checking my skin, terrified I'd see it bubble and twist like the Dirgethinner's had. I held my breath, waiting for the pain, the betrayal of my own flesh. Nothing came. Not yet.

But something was wrong, worse than I'd feared. My mana was slipping away, draining fast, like blood from an open wound. I hadn't noticed at first, too caught in the chaos, but now it hit me: the mist wasn't mine anymore. It churned on its own, spreading wide and wild, heedless of my reserves or the people it threatened. Despair clawed up my throat, raw and choking. The second rule, everything I'd learned about control, vanished from my grasp.

The mist was surging, rising fast, no longer held low. Panic seized me. I staggered forward, hands outstretched, pouring the mana I had left into the wall. It thickened, creaking as it grew to fifteen meters, then twenty, the ice stretching upward in uneven slabs. The cost was brutal; my heart core throbbed, a deep ache spreading through my chest. I didn't care. This mist was like the fog—worse, maybe. It'd corrupted a crimson beast with a core; it'd tear through everyone inside the ward if it breached the wall. They had nowhere to run, trapped behind me, defenseless.

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I pushed harder, teeth gritted, willing the ice higher. Twenty-five meters now, the top thinning out, brittle and jagged, ready to snap under its own weight. My muscles burned, straining against the effort, my vision doubling as black spots danced at the edges. I collapsed against the wall, one arm pressed to its cold surface, gasping for air. "I hope that's enough," I muttered, voice ragged, barely audible over my own heaving breaths. My core pulsed painfully, each beat a stab through my ribs.

But the mist didn't stop. It climbed higher, thicker, sprawling beyond my reach. I couldn't feel its edges anymore. My senses, sharp even in the fog, failed me here. Five miles? Seven? More? I had no way to tell, no control left to pull it back. The voices swelled with it, whispers turning to wails, a deafening chorus of anguish pressing on my skull. They drowned my thoughts, splintered my focus. And those eyes were everywhere, unseen, boring into me from the mist. My instincts flared, useless, screaming threats I couldn't find. I was exposed, raw, a speck in the chaos I'd unleashed.

Worse came next. I sensed them like beacons flaring in the distance, sharp and bright through the mist. Corrupted beasts, birthing far beyond my sight, their cores twisting just like the Dirgethinner's had. Even with the mist so thick I could barely see ahead of me, their presence cut through, clear as daylight, undeniable. Pain lanced through me again, sharper now, my core straining past its limits. My knees buckled, but I caught myself against the wall, nails scraping the ice. What was happening? How could this spread so fast?

"What have I done?" I whispered, staring into the gray. My voice trembled, small against the howling din. I'd touched the cycle of life and death, linked forever. Bringing Wulric back, pulling him from that endless loop—had I broken it? Was this punishment, a reckoning for defying nature's rules? A stab of pain hit my skull, deep and sudden, like something tore loose inside. My vision flickered, memories crashing in unbidden.

Meris. I saw her face, pale and still, the day I'd saved her. I'd felt it then too, a brush of corruption, a defiance of the cycle when I'd pulled her back from the edge. Or had I? The memory blurred. Had it been real, or just my fear playing tricks? I couldn't tell. "What have I done wrong?" I screamed, head thrown back, voice cracking as it echoed off the ice. The sky didn't answer, just pulsed red with the ward's failing runes, cracks widening overhead.

Had I shattered the cycle twice now? Resurrection, renewal, they were part of it, weren't they? "Resurrection and renovation are part of the cycle, are they not?" I shouted again, desperate, fists clenched against the wall. Something cold brushed my shoulder, an ice hand, reaching from the wall where I leaned. I flinched, shoving it away by reflex. It snapped off, brittle and hollow, shattering on the ground. "It's… just ice," I muttered, forcing the words out, trying to believe them. But I looked up, and my breath caught.

The wall wasn't just ice anymore. Thousands of faces stared back—etched deep, mouths gaping, eyes empty, a gallery of torment stretching as far as I could see. Not hundreds but thousands, their pain carved into every frozen inch. The voices spiked, louder, clawing at my mind, screams, sobs and curses blending into a wall of sound I couldn't shut out. My head throbbed, vision swimming again, doubling the faces into a nightmare haze.

I slid down, back against the wall, hands gripping my skull. The cycle's rules weren't mine to bend. I'd reached too far, touched a realm I couldn't grasp. "That's right, Wulric," I rasped, voice low, nearly lost in the sorrow flooding around me. I'd meant to bring him back, forge a frost titan, a protector. I'd lost it all in that moment, forgotten the goal as the dead poured through. My mana was nearly gone, my core a flickering ember, straining to hold me together. The mist rose higher still, a tide I couldn't stop, and those distant corrupted beasts pulsed brighter, spreading, growing, a plague I'd birthed.

I slumped against the ice wall, chest heaving, the cold biting into my back. My gaze drifted, drawn back to the orb still hanging in the air, past the suffocating mist. It was impossible to miss, even through the gray haze: a massive, glowing sphere, flaring bright enough to pierce the thick shroud. It loomed larger now, swollen beyond what I'd shaped, its edges glinting with a harsh, unnatural light. My heart core ached, a relentless throb deep inside, still bleeding mana I couldn't stop. It drained me dry, pulling even when I'd lost control.

But it wasn't just me feeding it. I could feel that now. The orb's size had surged far past my reserves; I didn't have enough left to sustain this. My mana had been the spark, a flicker to ignite it, but something else drove it now, something vast, beyond my grasp. My will had stretched thin, frayed to breaking. My vision warped, shapes doubling, tripling, ice and mist blurring into smears of shadow. Still, I couldn't look away. I stared, breath shallow, as the orb pulsed once, twice, a heartbeat not my own.

Then it broke. A crack split the silence, sharp and deep, echoing like a bone snapping in the dark. The orb shuddered, ice splintering apart with a groan that rumbled through my ribs. Shards fell slow at first, glinting as they caught the ward's fading red glow, then faster, crashing to the ground in a deafening cascade. From the fracture, a shape emerged, hulking and unyielding, carved from frost that gleamed wet and cold. Its chest swelled wide, armored in thick, translucent slabs with mana trapped inside, pulsing faintly in blue-gray veins that snaked beneath the surface. Jagged edges spiked along its shoulders, wicked and sharp, like blades forged from a nightmare.

The ground quaked as it landed with a massive thud that shook the earth, rattling my teeth. Dust billowed up, mixing with the mist, as its arms unfurled: pillars of ice, thick and brutal, ending in fists like boulders. Knuckles bristled with spurs, gleaming cruelly, ready to crush anything in reach. Its legs slammed down next, stout and rooted, cracking the stone beneath with a sound like splitting rock. The air trembled, the impact rippling out, a tremor that clawed up my spine.

It stood faceless at first, a blank slab of frost towering over me, sixteen meters high, maybe more, dwarfing the Dirgethinner's corpse. I held my breath, watching, as cracks spiderwebbed across its head. Two hollow sockets tore open, flaring with a cold, white glow—eyes that burned without life, staring through me. More ice split, lower now, forming a maw that gaped wide and black. From it came a scream—low at first, then rising, a guttural roar that shook the ground again. The sound hit me like a blow, raw and primal, rattling my skull. Above, the ice wall groaned as thin spires at the top snapping off, tumbling down in chunks that shattered near my feet.

I flinched, hands pressing harder against the wall. "Hold," I whispered, a desperate plea to the frost I'd raised. If it crumbled now, if the mist poured over, everyone inside was lost. This thing, my strongest weapon yet, was my deepest fear, a plague born from my mistake.

The titan's scream faded, leaving a hollow ringing in my ears, and I stared up at it, chest tight. The mist swirled around its legs, tendrils licking at the frost, but it stood unmoved, a titan forged from the chaos I'd unleashed.

Then I felt it, deep and unmistakable. Mana pulsed within its icy frame, trapped in those glowing veins, but there was no core. No heartbeat, no crimson spark like mine or the beasts'. It was empty, alive yet not, and still I sensed it: a thread tying us together, faint but real. My breath caught as I traced the feeling, recognition creeping in. It was like Hazeveil—my cloak, my companion, woven into me in ways I couldn't explain. This titan wasn't just ice; it was part of me, born from my will, my mana's dying ember, and something darker I'd pulled from beyond.

I sank lower, knees weak, staring as it loomed silent now, faceless sockets fixed ahead, fists clenched at its sides. Wulric, reborn not as man but as this: a protector, a nightmare, a frost titan rising from the dead's realm. My spark had lit it, but its power wasn't mine anymore. The mist curled higher, the ward's runes flickered weaker, and I shivered. not from cold, but from the weight of what I'd wrought.

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