Chapter 35 The Frost Gate

The ground crunched beneath their boots as they crossed into the frozen basin of the Kharoth Tundra. Wind blew in from the north, biting at their faces. Even Revoli’s normally upbeat bounce was stiffened by the chill.

“Where’s the entrance?” Fara asked, squinting through the frost-covered ruins ahead.

Kai raised a hand, pointing toward a jagged stone arch partially buried in snow. “There. The Guild says this dungeon predates the old kings—some ancient crypt, maybe. Treasure inside, if we’re lucky. Sealed relics, if we're not.”

Skye stood beside him, her hood drawn low, but her golden eyes locked on the structure. She looked more ready than she ever had.

Fara gave a small nod. “We’re elites now. Should be nothing.”

Kai didn’t answer.

His breath steamed in the air as he watched his teammates. Their steps were light. Their backs were straight. They felt strong.

Because he was with them.

Some part of him wondered—Did I do that?

Back home—if that’s even what it was—he never got moments like this. The second he let his guard down, something always snapped him back. A sharp command. A slammed door. Cold water on his skin. His wife never bothered to whisper him awake. Just handed him the next task.

But this place… it didn’t end.

He flexed his gloved hand, slow and deliberate. His power hummed quietly beneath his skin—responsive, controlled. The world felt like it tilted slightly to meet his stride now. Like it listened.

They entered the dungeon in silence, boots crunching on frost. The walls inside shimmered—solid ice mixed with polished stone, reflecting the light from their torches in long, distorted patterns. Shadows twisted. Their breath clouded the air in thin plumes. The deeper they went, the more it felt like walking through the lungs of some ancient sleeping beast.

The first threat came fast.

Two yetis burst from a narrow alcove, their roars echoing like thunder between the frozen walls. Towering, white-furred monstrosities with curved tusks and frost-encrusted claws.

Fara was already moving—her spear-staff spinning in her hands like a dancer with purpose. She ducked beneath a wild swing and drove her weapon straight into the first yeti’s gut, pushing it back with a strength that didn’t match her slender frame.

Kai watched her land clean and keep moving. She was incredible.

Then the second yeti lunged for him.

The club swung wide, heavy and mean, but Kai didn’t flinch. He caught it mid-arc, boots skidding for half a heartbeat. Then he twisted, shoulder-slamming the beast so hard it crashed against the tunnel wall, cracking ice and bone alike.

The other yeti staggered toward him, but it didn’t get far.

Kai’s baton snapped out—once to the jaw, again across the temple. The creature spun and dropped, slamming face-first into a frozen pillar with a thud that made Revoli wince.

She blinked. “Okay. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

They pressed on.

Next were the spiders—thin, translucent things the size of small dogs, all skittering legs and twitchy bodies. Their fangs gleamed like crystal daggers, dripping venom that hissed when it hit the ice.

Skye moved like a ghost—slipping between limbs, slicing tendon and nerve with every clean arc of her blades. Fara handled the rear, sweeping groups of spiders into explosive traps. Revoli’s firebombs turned narrow halls into sudden ovens, the blasts pushing heat through the frigid maze.

Kai held the center. He didn’t try to move fast. He didn’t need to. Every attack that reached his space, he blocked or broke. Every opening, he filled. When spiders leapt, he knocked them out of the air like nothing. As if he'd seen the whole thing before.

But something was off.

He noticed it in the timing—tiny things. The adjustment between fighting something massive and then something fast. A delay. Not enough to get him hurt. But enough to nag at him.

Why did I miss the angle on that second one? I should’ve seen it.

The deeper they went, the more the thought stuck.

It didn’t stop him. But it made him wonder.

The tunnel opened into a chamber unlike the rest. Polished. Purposeful. Its walls glowed with runes buried deep in the ice—older than the dungeon, maybe older than the world. At the center stood a towering door carved entirely of translucent frost, laced with crystalline patterns that shifted like snowflakes under glass.

The Frost Gate.

“Skye,” Kai said quietly.

“I’ll check the perimeter.” She vanished into the side halls without a sound.

“Fara, rear guard.”

She gave a nod and fell into position, her breath steady.

That left him and Revoli. She stood close, shoulders tense but eyes curious. A small orb glowed in her palm, crackling faintly. Ready. Just in case.

The gate pulsed.

Then, without warning, it opened.

A wave of warm air rolled out, fogging the chamber. Steam drifted over the threshold—and with it came a sound. Wet footsteps. Something waddled into view.

A creature. Small. Almost cute. Its glimmering blue scales shimmered like lake water under moonlight. It blinked, head cocked sideways, and let out a soft coo.

“Aww,” Revoli whispered. “A baby dragon?”

She took a step forward.

“Revoli—wait.”

Too late.

The shimmer in its scales twisted violently. Then came the roar. Not small. Not soft.

The creature exploded in size.

Its body tore apart from the inside—limbs stretching, flesh ripping. Two more heads burst from its shoulders with wet, awful crunches. The baby was gone. In its place stood something primal. Ancient. Wrong.

Kai didn’t react.

“Brace!” he shouted.

The dragon charged.

Its tail swung wide and caught him mid-turn. He flew across the chamber, slamming into the ice. His head hit the ground with a dull crack. Blood ran down the side of his nose.

That one… that one hurt.

Fara cast a shield, glowing gold and bright, catching the next attack—but the hit shattered it like glass. The impact knocked her back, her feet dragging lines into the floor as she groaned, clutching her ribs.

Skye launched forward, ran straight up the beast’s tail, blades outstretched—but the left head twisted mid-air and caught her by the tail. She screamed.

The center mouth opened wide.

She was falling.

Arms flailing. Crying out. “KAI!”

The dragon never got the chance to bite.

Kai caught her.

One arm wrapped tight around her waist mid-drop, his other hand bracing their fall against the slick floor. Her face buried in his chest, body trembling from shock—but she was alive.

She gasped for air.

“I thought—”

“You’re okay,” he said, breathless. “I’ve got you.”

Then he turned.

Kai slammed into the dragon’s side, shoving it with enough force to send it crashing back into the Frost Gate, blowing the great doors off their hinges.

“On me!” he roared.

Revoli, shaken, tossed two lit orbs toward him. Kai batted them with his baton like a club—sending them sailing into the creature’s mouths.

The explosion rocked the chamber.

Fire met ice. Steam screamed through the air as the dragon thrashed in agony.

Kai didn’t stop.

He leapt, grabbed the nearest head, and slammed his fist between its eyes. The skull cracked, split, and went still.

The body staggered—then toppled.

Twitching. Smoking.

Dead.

Kai stood over it, chest heaving. Blood ran down his lip. His breath misted in ragged bursts.

For the first time… the girls saw him gasping.

Not a god. Not a phantom.

Just a man.

And very, very real.

From a shadowed alcove deep in the icy stone, Patrona watched.

Eyes narrowed. Cloaked in illusions undetectable to normal demi-human senses.

But Kai wasn’t normal.

As he stood, catching his breath, his eyes flicked sideways. Only for a second.

Just long enough to let her know—he knew.

Patrona smirked in the dark. He noticed her. Only for a second. A flick of his eyes. She tilted her head slightly, the faintest grin forming. "Interesting," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "He’s not like the others."