Zaphara blinked into blinding whiteness, her eyes squinting against the sharply reflecting light of an endless snowfield. The icy wind brushed through her hair, yet instead of cold, she felt an odd familiarity. It took her a moment to realize that she was no longer in the dark crypt but in another plane – in the domain of her goddess.

  Crystella stood only a few steps away. Never before had Zaphara seen her so clearly. In the past, she was always just fleeting emotions or faint whispers in prayers, but now she appeared in radiant robes that made the snow seem dull in comparison, so pure were they. Her hair gleamed in a silver-white sheen, and in her cool eyes lay a hint of gentle yet unforgiving power.

  Zaphara immediately fell to her knees, bowing her head. 'Oh Crystella…' she whispered reverently. 'It is an honor to see you like this. What have I done to be allowed to stand before you?'

  Crystella stepped closer. The snowflakes swirling around her seemed to sparkle with crystal clarity with each movement. 'You have always been faithful to me,' the goddess began with a soft but penetrating voice. 'Since childhood, you prayed to me; your village offered sacrifices in my name. And even when you were robbed of your home, you never lost faith. I value that.'

  Zaphara exhaled in relief until she noticed the faint furrow on Crystella's brow. 'However… you reek,' the goddess continued, her tone now sharper. 'You emit an aura that is not mine. You have interacted with another being and dare not speak of it to me? Who do you think you are? You deceive yourself if you think you can simply bypass me!'

  Zaphara's eyes widened in shock. 'No! I meant to tell you everything, I swear! Yesterday…' She fell silent under Crystella's angry gaze.

  'Just because I am silent does not mean you should keep things from me,' Crystella interrupted coldly. 'Or has my long silence been enough for you to lose your trust in me?'

  Ashamed, Zaphara lowered her head. 'I… did not dare to disturb you. Forgive me…'

  Crystella scoffed softly, then let her gaze drift disdainfully over Zaphara. 'And now you are dying a pathetic death. I truly expected more from a Priestess of Winter.'

  With her head bowed, Zaphara remained kneeling in the snow, silent. Shame burned in her chest, and she hardly dared to breathe. Quietly, she awaited the judgment the goddess would pass upon her.

  'Tell me: Do these people you travel with mean anything to you?' Crystella finally asked, her voice almost bored.

  Zaphara answered without hesitation, 'No. They are merely… means to an end. The only one who matters to me is you.'

  A thin smile played on Crystella's lips. 'Good.' She let Zaphara stew in the silence for a moment before continuing, 'Then I will make you an offer: I will save your life and the lives of these… insignificant mortals. Just this once. In return, I will take everything that makes you who you are – your soul, your past, your present, your future. Do you accept?'

  Without hesitation, Zaphara raised her head. 'I thank you! Of course, everything already belongs to you, Crystella. I am in your debt and infinitely grateful that you are sparing us.'

  An icy sparkle appeared in Crystella's eyes, but her smile remained cold. 'Foolish girl. But that's not all. You will report to me as soon as you learn anything about that black figure who saved you and your group – that figure you failed to mention. And you will do so completely, continuously, with no exceptions.'

  Though her heart raced, Zaphara agreed without hesitation. 'Yes, of course. I swear it.'

  Crystella nodded slowly. 'Good. Then I will kill the monster you failed against and spare your companions. Because…' She curled her lips briefly. '…I am well aware of the circumstances that led them down here. Now go – your task is not yet finished.'

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Just as she was ready to leave and felt the intense cold beginning to fade, Crystella spoke once more, 'And Zaphara, one more thing… keep an eye on that Talon. You might be surprised at how interesting he could be for you.' A wicked, almost mocking grin crossed Crystella's face.

  Zaphara wanted to ask more questions, but the world around her was already starting to blur. The snow-covered landscape frayed, and the face of the goddess faded into blinding white.

  She awoke in the same hall where she had fallen unconscious just moments before. But everything had changed. Frost covered the walls and floor like a jagged, glittering mountain of ice. Icicles jutted up from the edges of the stone slabs, and from cracks and crevices, snow-white mist rose, as if the air were freezing cold. Of the monstrous creature itself, only a gruesome sight remained: torn pieces of flesh, all covered in hoarfrost. In the center of the room, impaled on a gigantic ice spear, was its skull – eyes wide open in a final, silent scream.

  Groaning, Zaphara clutched at her once grievously wounded side. What had just been a bloody wound was now a thin, blue-glowing scar. Her arm was also roughly healed, a cold shimmer of frost covering the spot where the monster had struck her.

  'What… the…?' she murmured. In her head, Crystella's words echoed, and she could still hear the winter wind whispering in her ears.

  “Stay where you are!” Seraphion barked, his blade – illuminated by both the red light and the frost – pointed directly at Zaphara. Beside him stood Talon, bow in hand, also aimed at her.

  “What did you do?” Talon growled, his voice a mixture of fear and anger. “Are you planning to kill us now?”

  Irritated and still dizzy, Zaphara rolled her eyes. “Calm down. I killed the monster.” She gestured vaguely at the impaled skull. “Satisfied? Or did you forget it nearly killed all of us?”

  Lunara, kneeling beside the fallen Aaron, cast Zaphara a shocked sideways glance. “Aaron… his arm… we can barely stop the bleeding. He can’t move anymore.” Shadows clung to her hand as she desperately tried to close the wound, but it was clear how weak she had become.

  Zaphara glanced over and frowned. “His own fault. Shouldn’t have wasted his heroic moment on me. Stupid fool…” Yet her voice held no real malice, more of a hollow feeling she quickly suppressed.

  Seraphion ignored her remark and hefted Aaron under his remaining arm. Though unsteady on his feet, he prepared to carry the dwarf. “We need to get out of here and find him medical help.”

  Lunara watched them with a crestfallen expression. “But… we’re somewhere deep underground beneath this forest. We might not even make it out in time to save Aaron.”

  Talon’s voice rose, trembling with tension, “Don’t talk like that. We’re not giving up until it’s truly over! Come on…”

  Zaphara shot Talon a cool sidelong glance, her thoughts lingering on Crystella’s last warning: “Keep a closer eye on him…” Her stomach knotted as a flicker of doubt stirred within her. But she said nothing aloud, merely lowering her chin.

  At the far wall, they discovered a passage leading deeper into the vault. The cold air, a lingering effect of Zaphara’s mysterious, overwhelming ice magic, made it hard to breathe. With every step, the ice crunched beneath their boots, threatening to send them sliding at any moment.

  As they passed the grotesque trophy of the monster, Seraphion’s gaze flickered to Zaphara. How powerful is this woman, he wondered silently, to destroy such a monster in one blow? Could she have done that at any time? If so, would Aaron have even stood a chance? A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe… maybe she could kill us too…

  At the end of the frozen hall, a narrow corridor opened up, its stone walls also gripped by Zaphara’s chilling power. From far ahead, a pale red light gleamed, accompanied by a sharp metallic scent. Blood. They all knew they were hardly prepared for another confrontation after the last battle. Aaron was gravely injured, Lunara nearly depleted, and Talon was out of arrows.

  “If that creature wasn’t the master of this dungeon, then we’re in serious trouble,” murmured Lunara anxiously.

  The passage led them into a spacious chamber that gave the word “nightmarish” a whole new meaning. The walls were stained blood-red, not with paint but with real streams of blood. Like tiny waterfalls, they trickled down the sides, dripping into narrow crevices in the floor. All of it converged in the center of the room, where a circular altar made of red stone stood. Every rivulet of blood flowed toward this altar, as if nourishing it.

  A pungent stench, sickly-sweet and rotten, filled the air. Here and there, a disturbed puddle bubbled, as if the blood was being pumped by a pulsing heart. Seraphion’s face twisted in disgust, and Lunara nearly retched.

  “Heavens…” Talon whispered, taking a step back.

  Zaphara, still bearing the marks of her wounds, stepped closer. On the stone slabs of the altar, she recognized the same runes that had glowed above on the stone circle and on the floor near the staircase. “This… it’s the same writing. This must be the true center – down here.”

  Holding their breath, they all stared at the eerie scene. The loud rushing of the bloodfalls and an irregular gurgling echoed through the room, as if massive pistons somewhere deep below were driving the crimson liquid. In this unholy silence, one realization became painfully clear: they had reached the very heart of this cursed dungeon.