The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 126: Grip of Winter

Chapter 126: Grip of Winter

The soft crunch of the snow beneath our feet echoed hollowly through the village, bouncing off the frozen walls and returning to our ears. A large mound of snow dominated the village square, rising as high as any of the single-story homes. Unlike the pure frost coating the ground, the pile seemed much darker, crimson almost.

"They didn’t..." Soltair muttered, kicking into the pile.

A sharp clatter rang out as several fragments of bone scattered before his boot. Surprised by the sudden stench of blood, which wafted through the break in the snow, I took several steps back before I steadied myself. Surely, this entire pile couldn’t be...

Fyren whipped his sword from its sheath and slashed toward the pile. Flames arced from the blade and coiled around the pile. Steam erupted as the searing flames hit ice, rolling out to obscure the entire village. The stench of boiling blood replaced the metallic tang from before, so potent my eyes watered. In between coughs, I summoned a gust of wind to clear the air.

Within seconds, the roiling banks of steam dissipated, revealing the most gruesome sight I’d ever witnessed. Bile rose in my throat as I gaged. I thought I’d gotten used to the sight of carnage, but this was on another scale entirely.

Fyren was the first to respond, shaking his head and saying, "I suppose we no longer need search for the villagers."

It was as he said. Nothing less than the population of a village could create such an immense pile of bodies. The flesh had sloughed from the bone, leaking through the cracks and filling the pile like putrid cheese. The starchy white of the remaining skeletons had been soaked in blood, retaining its color even as Fyren’s fire evaporated the fluids. Free of its icy constraints, the putrid slurry flowed outward, slowly creeping toward our feet.

Trithe backed away, her face blanching with revulsion. "I...who would do this?" she stammered.

"It’s similar to that other demon cult we discovered. But even that paled compared to this," Soltair replied darkly. His face twisted in disgust as he gingerly stepped atop a corpse, reaching up to grab something within the pile.

From all appearances, it was a scale, similar to the ones that coated my tail and horns. But, unlike my gentle ridges, this was thick and heavy, stretching as wide as a dinner plate. It seemed translucent but was so saturated with blood that its original color was impossible to determine.

"Dragon scale?" Soltair asked, waving the dripping scale toward Trithe.

"How would I know?" she yelped, backing away as his movements sent droplets of blood flying toward her.

"Didn’t they teach you this in your classes? Man, I thought you were supposed to be the dragon expert!" he complained.

"How could you say that at a time like this," she retorted.

Soltair took a deep breath, the teasing curl of his lips returning to a more sober expression. "You’re right, I’m sorry. I was only trying to lighten the mood."

"Perhaps it was heavy for a reason," she muttered.

Fyren cleared his throat, finally moving his gaze from the pile. He’d been staring thoughtfully from it ever since, as though observing something the rest of us had missed. "Regardless, we can’t just leave them here. The ceremonies clearly complete, but it would dishonor their memories to leave them arraigned in such a grisly manner."

"Of course. I’ll take care of it," Soltair said. He raised his hand and summoned seven magic circles, preparing to cast a familiar spell.

"H-hey!" I cried, backpedaling. "I don’t think that’s necessary! Shouldn’t we conserve our strength to confront whoever did this?"

He tilted his head back and smiled, looking me confidently in the eyes. "You’re not the only one who’s grown, Xiviyah. Something like this is simple."

"It wasn’t just about you," I muttered, quickly throwing Adaptive Resistance into the Nexus with Link Ability.

Fyren and Trithe were quick to join me several hundred feet away, at the edge of the village. "Is this far enough?" I asked nervously.

"It should be fine. He looks like he’s restraining himself. Probably." Trithe sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than anything.

A few seconds later, the village blazed with light as the Solar Flare descended. Adaptive Resistance held up remarkably well with the distance between us, the spell simply deflecting away without so much as troubling my soul. The Sunpurge on my shoulder ached, but that was as much from memory as a resonation with the Sun Magic.

The Solar Flare consumed the entire heap of bloody core, leaving a small crater behind. The collateral damage was significantly smaller than the last time he cast the seventh-level spell. It seemed he really was gaining more control of his formidable abilities.

As we gathered back together, Soltair glanced at Fyren. "Any ideas what’s going on here?"

"A few, although they’re little more than theories. But if I had to guess, I would point at a demonic cult, perhaps originating in that village in the swamp. Judging by the scale of the sacrifice, they were probably trying to summon an actual demon lord, which I suppose means we should be grateful they failed. Otherwise, the war we’re stalling would be upon us in a matter of days."

"Then what about the scale?" Trithe asked, pointing at the translucent plate in Soltair’s hand.

Fyren shook his head. "Hard to say for sure, but it might have been part of the sacrifice. Considering the tracks we found, I can only assume the dragon survived and absorbed the energy

"Which means it’s we’re dealing with an Infernal Dragon," Soltair concluded, clenching his hand tightly about the scale. "Nice!"

"It won’t be so simple," Fyren reminded him. "An infernal creature is usually stronger than its host. Mundane creatures lose all control and go on a rampage, but something like a Dragon would retain its cunning. It’ll have full possession of abilities, plus the ice element, judging by the changes in the environment."

"Why ice?" I asked.

"That’s probably the type of Demon Lord they tried to summon. Regardless, our first step is to track the creature down, then investigate it," Fyren said.

I shifted nervously, glancing at the enormous magic circle around the mountain. "If it’s got the energy of a Demon Lord, do you think we should request backup? Perhaps one of the other heroes can-"

"No, we got this. Even if it has that much power, it won’t be able to control it as well as the other demons we fought," Soltair replied confidently.

"But it’s a dragon." Trithe rolled her eyes, her voice uncharacteristically flat. "They’re probably much more skilled at wielding immense power than any regular demon."

"True, but there’s four of us," Soltair countered. "And if it’s attributes are ice and demon, then we can’t lose. All of our attacks will be super effective!"

Even if I only vaguely got his reference, his words held merit. Seeing neither of them were willing to back down, I volunteered a solution. "Why don’t we find it first, then make a decision."

Soltair smiled wide, nodding emphatically. "Great idea. Any ideas where it might hole up, Trithe?"

"I told you, I’m not a dragon expert."

"It’s over there," I said, pointing at the nearby peak with a sigh. Was there some sort of lover’s quarrel going on right now?

While we began the hike up the snowy slopes, I explained about the magic circle, which grew more detailed as we got closer. The runes, visible only to the Eyes of Fate, held power that approached the eighth circle. Its scale and magical density were far greater than anything Soltair had achieved, but it had some drawbacks. The spell required a constant flow of mana to retain its effects, meaning whoever was responsible for the sudden winter was nearby, and greatly weakened. I refused to believe anyone could sustain such a powerful spell and still have plenty of mana to spare.

The sky had begun to darken as we reached the upper peaks. The vista behind was breathtaking unique: a bleached-white tundra stretching nearly to the horizon.

"It’s spreading fast," Trithe said grimly. "I think that’s Viriden over there."

I nodded, able to confirm her guess with my sharp vision. The distant lights of Viriden, almost two days’ journey away, twinkled at the edge of an expanding circle of ice. While the city lacked expansive fields and farmland, which would have been crippled by a summer flash freeze, it would undoubtedly be feeling its effects by tomorrow. Without time to prepare firewood for the low temperatures, many would freeze before the night was over. The men, women, and children I’d saved would die.

"Calling for help is no longer an option," Soltair said, "we need to hurry."

"Agreed," Fyren said, surprising me.

I looked up in surprise as Fyren laid a hand on my head. "You want to save them, right?" He chuckled wryly at my nod and ruffled my hair. "Then what else needs to be said?"

Ducking away from his paw-like hand, I cast one more look at the distant city before setting off once more. What kind of hero would I be if I couldn’t save the one place that treated me kindly? The people there had found their way into my heart, just as Thron and Selena had. No matter what kind of monster, demon, or dragon we had to fight, I was determined to fight.

Soltair quickly regained the lead, his voice echoing my thoughts. "Let’s kill a dragon."

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