“Not in the water.” Aurora shook her head, then lifted one gloved hand toward the tallest of three jagged ice spires. “There…”
Following her gesture, Jared squinted up the sheer wall of frost. Halfway to the summit, a cavern of blue ice yawned, its mouth obscured by swirling mist that never dispersed. That mist carried a presence—subtle, ancient, and vast. It seeped out in slow breaths, coiling round them with the oppressive majesty of something that had ruled these wastes long before mortal memory.
Cold, feral, imperious, the aura rumbled with a bestial violence barely held in check, like winter itself deciding whether the intruders were worth sparing.
“What… What is that?” Jared’s pupils constricted, heartbeat thundering inside his ears.
“The ice soul blood lotus guardian spirit beast,” Aurora answered, every syllable turning the freezing air brittle. “One of the original natives of Eternal Ice Plains… For more than a thousand years, it has watched over the lotus. The two exist in symbiosis; the flower drinks in venomous chill and iron-rich lifeblood from the earth, while the beast cultivates on the lotus’s distilled frost essence. If we wish to harvest the lotus, we must secure its permission, or… defeat it outright.”
Vermilion’s face blanched. “Defeat it? Then… how strong is that creature?”
Aurora glanced sideways at him. “When I first stepped onto this tundra several millennia ago, it already stood at Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Seven. Where it ranks now… even I cannot say.”
Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Seven, several millennia ago! The thought struck like a shard of black ice. Vermilion inhaled sharply, the ember of hope in his chest snuffed out before it could warm him. A being of that caliber—Aurora herself might wrestle with it for days, and the three of them together would be snowflakes against a glacier.
Jared’s brow knit into a hard line. Level Seven back then… If it has advanced even one rank since, we’re talking Level Eight or Nine, perhaps higher… I can push my limits to feel an upper Level Eight and dance with a Nine, but anything beyond would swallow every trick I possess and still come for more… Worse, spirit beasts at equal rank already outmatch human cultivators in raw brutality.
“Lady Aurora, there has to be another way,” Clara blurted, her voice a brittle chime in the stillness.
“There is…” Aurora inclined her head. “I may attempt parley, offer treasures of equal worth. Yet the creature is proud, volatile, and bound to the lotus by a bond forged over centuries. It may refuse outright, and if it does… What that beast despises above all is the mortal taint clinging to human cultivators. Yesterday, your group hacked its way here, blood mist billowing into the heavens. It sensed you instantly. The only reason it kept its claw was out of respect for me.”
Jared fell silent for a heartbeat, his breath fogging in the frigid air. “And if the attempt at parley fails?”
“Then, Jared… your fate will rest on your own shoulders.” A thin smile ghosted across her lips. “I can suppress the barrier encircling the Frostpool long enough for you to slip into the basin. Whether you pluck the blood lotus or perish beneath the ice depends entirely on your skill.”
Unable to hold back, Vermilion barked, “Lady Aurora, can’t you fight beside him?”
She shook her head, silver locks chiming against her pauldrons. “The beast and I struck a pact long ago—non-interference. It guards the blood lotus while I keep my boots outside the basin. I command Northern Abyss Palace, and it spares my people. Should I break that covenant, its fury could grind the palace to frozen rubble.”
Her gaze shifted to Jared, keen as moonlight on steel. “Know this… The guardian carries a trace of Ancient Frost-Drake blood. It is not pure, yet still formidable. Dragon’s power, or any divine-beast aura, stings its senses like fire. If you possess such a card, play it now.”
Ancient Frost-Drake blood… Dragon’s power… I carry the pure Golden Dragon bloodline. Spirit beast or divine beast, before Golden Dragon, they should kneel… The power inside me isn’t fully awakened, yet authenticity may outweigh sheer force. I have to try!
“I understand…” Jared drew a deep breath, resolve kindling behind amber irises. “Lady Aurora, open the array. I will meet the spirit beast.”
“Jared!” Vermilion blurted, panic flaring. “That creature stands above level five of the True Immortal Realm. You…”
“This is our only chance,” Jared cut in. “Whatever happens, I must attempt it. Selene cannot wait much longer.”
Vermilion’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again, ending in a long, resigned sigh. He slapped Jared’s shoulder hard enough to rattle his bones. “Be careful, kid… If the odds turn impossible, retreat at once. We’ll find another cure for Selene.”
Clara’s concern glittered like frost in her eyes. “Please… Please come back to us alive.”
Jared nodded to them both, then crouched to rub the small fire unicorn’s blazing-warm head. “Little one, I may need your help.” The creature nuzzled his palm, ember-maned, and loosed a low, eager growl—battle lust incarnate.
Lady Aurora’s eyes softened with a flash of approval. “You have courage. If the fight turns hopeless, fall back to the basin’s edge. I will reactivate the barrier and shelter you, for a time.”
With that, she raised both hands and wove sigils, murmuring words older than winter. An ice-blue rune blossomed on her brow. A deep hum rolled through the valley, reverberating like a glacier groaning in its sleep. The colossal ward shrouding the basin rippled—an ocean of cerulean light disturbed by unseen wind.
Directly before Jared, the veil parted, peeling back into a slim fissure just wide enough for one body. From that slit poured air so bitterly cold and rank with iron that he shuddered despite himself.
“Go…” Lady Aurora whispered.
Jared offered Vermilion and Clara a final nod, saluted Lady Aurora, then became a streak of golden light as he slipped through the gap and vanished into the frozen basin. The small fire unicorn loosed a deep, rumbling snarl that fluttered embers across its golden mane, then bounded after Jared, metal-hard hooves sparking against the mirror-slick ice.
Behind him, the fracture in the array zipped shut like a reversed lightning bolt, erasing all trace of entry and leaving the barrier smooth, cold, and whole again. Outside that shimmering veil, Vermilion and Clara stood rigid, shoulders squared, their eyes locked on the vanishing outline of Jared’s back as though sight alone might haul him safely home.
A few paces farther off, Lady Aurora waited in absolute stillness, gaze dark and distant, the faint lift of her chest the only sign that anything stirred beneath her snow-pale composure.
The instant Jared stepped into the basin, the temperature plummeted, at least tenfold colder than the world outside, and the air slapped his cheeks like knives honed on midnight. Ice-deep chill gnawed at his bones, and even with chaotic celestial essence swirling around him, silvery threads of frost needled past the shield to bite his flesh.
Beneath his boots, the ice was not clean white but veined with ghostly crimson, as though slow blood coursed in secret channels beneath the frozen skin. A coppery reek mingled with an acrid, poisonous tang hung in the air; each breath felt heavy, thick, and slow, stalling the flow of his essence the way tar snuffs a flame.
