Alaric awoke to the sound of the wind howling through the mouth of the cave. The storm outside was relentless—snow falling in a white blur, and sunlight completely absent. The chill had crept into the cave, where the fire had long since died out, leaving the cold nearly unbearable.
He glanced at his companions. Ignis and Aaron were still asleep, unbothered by the temperature. How can they sleep in this cold? he thought. Ignis has his fire affinity... but Aaron?
He stood, stretching the stiffness out of his body, and stepped toward the entrance. The moment he set foot outside, an eerie shiver ran down his spine. It wasn't just the cold—something else was wrong.
He turned back instinctively. Where Aaron had been lying moments ago was now a puddle of thick black liquid. The grimoire was gone.
Alaric's heart sank.
Rushing over, he shook Ignis violently. "Wake up!" he demanded. "Where's Aaron?"
Ignis blinked groggily, brushing aside his long hair. "Huh...? Who's this?"
Alaric let go, and Ignis's head thudded against the ground. "Ow! That hurt!" he complained, rubbing his head. "Why do you look so—?"
"Where's Aaron?" Alaric repeated, calmer now but visibly tense.
Ignis squinted toward the puddle. "He was right there... That's weird. Did he melt? I've never seen someone freeze by turning into goo. He's always been strange."
"This isn't a joke," Alaric growled. "That was a clone or a decoy. He's gone. Probably out there doing something reckless again."
Together, they stepped outside, only to be met by a surreal, almost apocalyptic scene.
The sky was cloaked in dark clouds, from which white lightning rained down like falling stars. The snow was... black. It coated the mountain peaks and the land like ash. Strange creatures roamed in the distance—towering, white-furred beasts with ice formations jutting from their limbs and faces. Smaller versions moved among them, and flocks of glowing blue fireflies drifted above, their wings soft and white like feathers.
"I think he already found trouble," Alaric muttered.
Ignis squinted. "What now?"
"We test the creatures," Alaric said. "I suspect the large ones aren't intelligent—they move by instinct. Easy enough. But the flies... they're suspicious."
"Suspicious?" Ignis echoed.
"They're moving in formation. Coordinated. That's not random."
"So... they're the brains?"
"Exactly. They may even be controlling the bigger ones. If so, they're the true threat."
Ignis rolled his shoulders. "You always gotta make things complicated."
Alaric smirked. "You deal with the little ones and the flies. I'll shoot the large ones in the eyes and see how they react."
"Sounds like a plan."
The two sprinted forward across the snowy plain, arriving at a strange formation: a large, smooth dome surrounded by jagged mountains.
Alaric narrowed his eyes. "Change of plans. I'll lure the flies into that dome. You stick with the original idea—handle the others."
"'Orders,' huh?" Ignis muttered with a smirk.
Alaric broke off, drawing his bow and loosing arrows toward the flies. They responded instantly, following him as he ran toward the dome.
Ignis dashed toward the swarm of smaller creatures—twisted, humanoid figures with elongated limbs, crystalline claws, and glowing icy veins. Unlike the towering beasts, these ones were faster and more unpredictable. Drawing his sword, its blade wreathed in flickering flame, Ignis slashed through the first creature that lunged at him, slicing it cleanly in half as it burst into embers. Another came from his blind spot, but he spun, dragging his sword in a wide arc that ignited the snow around him in a fiery burst. "You want a fight? I'll give you one," he snarled. Three more charged together, but Ignis raised his free hand, firing a concentrated stream of fire that roasted one and disoriented the others. He closed the gap, blade blazing, cutting them down with swift, precise strikes. "No intelligence at all… Just instinct and rage," he muttered, panting lightly as the last one dropped, its blackened form steaming against the snow.
Perfect, he thought, glancing back as the towering beasts followed the flies. As he slid down the edge into the dome, Ignis was already waiting at the base.
"Let me guess," Ignis said, arms crossed. "You drag them here, and I roast them all. Right?"
"Exactly. You're smarter than you look," Alaric said with a grin.
"I know," Ignis replied with a small blush.
"Aww, are you blushing?" Alaric teased.
"No, I'm not!" Ignis snapped.
Alaric laughed, climbing up to the dome's edge. "I'll be up here. Your flames and I don't get along."
As the creatures poured in, Ignis raised his hands. The dome lit up in a blinding explosion of crimson fire. The roar of flames echoed through the mountains.
Even from above, the heat scorched Alaric. He slapped the fire off his clothes, then looked down.
The large creatures were gone. The smaller ones had been incinerated. But the flies... were still hovering above.
Ignis lay unconscious below, eyes turned white.
Alaric frowned. That shouldn't have happened. The dome... the symmetry… the layout… it's too perfect.
He dropped down, approaching Ignis—but stopped in shock.
The snow had melted, revealing not a dome... but a rectangular, man-made hall. Perfectly black walls. A smooth, flat floor. No roof.
His eyes widened. "This is a trap."
Before he could act, it was too late.
From above, a mechanical black ceiling slid into place, sealing them inside. Darkness swallowed the room, followed by an eerie chorus of shifting noises.