Chapter 8: No Ordinary Relic

The skies above Germania had cleared, but tension clung to the air like smoke. The Imperius drifted quietly, sails stretched taut against a brisk northern wind. Below, Marcus Domitus stood on the observation deck, watching the snow-laden wilderness slip away beneath them.

The fort was behind them, but the weight of the battle remained on his shoulders. His hands rested on the cold brass rail, knuckles white as he struggled to process the strange encounter with the Iron Wolves.

"They weren’t fighting for territory," Marcus whispered to himself. "They were testing us."

"Testing what?" Gaius Varro asked, appearing beside him. His expression was unreadable, his usual smirk replaced by something closer to concern.

Marcus shook his head. "They were probing. Learning how we fight."

"Lovely," Gaius muttered, rubbing his neck. "What happens when they’ve learned everything?"

Marcus stared into the distance. "Then they’ll stop testing. And they’ll strike for real."

Inside the ship’s war room, Marcus, Seneca, and Gaius gathered around the central table, where a map of the northern frontier flickered beneath an eterium-powered projector.

"The scouts have confirmed what we feared," Seneca began, adjusting the dials of the projector. "The barbarians are rallying, but it’s not just them. Other factions are emerging—groups that have never cooperated before."

Marcus folded his arms, his gaze fixed on the glowing map. "They're working together. But who’s uniting them?"

"Not a who," Seneca replied grimly. "A what."

The projector hummed, revealing new data—an intricate web of movement patterns converging toward a single point deep within enemy territory. "This," Seneca continued, "is what they’re after."

Gaius leaned in, eyes narrowing. "What is it?"

"Something ancient," Seneca whispered, "buried beneath the ice. Whatever it is, they believe it holds the power to shift the balance of the war."

Marcus’s brow furrowed. "And if they get to it first?"

Seneca’s expression darkened. "We lose everything."

The Imperius veered toward the snow-covered peaks looming on the horizon. Marcus ordered his men to prepare for an expedition—this mission would take them deeper into enemy territory than any of them had ever gone before.

The plan was simple but dangerous: a small team would infiltrate the enemy's gathering point, discover what lay hidden beneath the ice, and destroy it if necessary. There was no room for hesitation. The success of this mission would determine the fate of the empire.

Gaius clapped Marcus on the shoulder, his grin returning, though there was little joy behind it. "At least we’re heading toward something interesting this time."

Marcus gave him a wry look. "Define interesting."

"Something that could kill us," Gaius replied with a shrug. "What else?"

The Imperius touched down at the base of a narrow gorge, where jagged cliffs towered over them like the walls of a prison. Marcus led the way, his steps cautious but steady. The cold bit deep, and snow crunched beneath every step as they descended further into the frozen wilderness.

Seneca followed close behind, carrying a set of strange devices—one that emitted soft clicks, indicating energy levels buried beneath the ice.

"Do you hear that?" Gaius asked, his voice low.

Marcus paused, listening. The wind whistled through the gorge, but there was something else beneath it—a low, rhythmic vibration, almost like breathing.

"It’s coming from below," Marcus said quietly. "Whatever it is, it’s not dormant."

They reached the entrance of a cavern carved into the mountainside, hidden behind a frozen waterfall. The air grew still as they stepped inside, and every breath felt heavier, as if the walls themselves pressed in on them.

"Stay sharp," Marcus warned. "This place hasn’t been touched for centuries, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe."

The cavern floor sloped downward into a wide chamber. In its center stood a massive obelisk, covered in strange carvings that glimmered faintly under the pale light of their torches. Around the base of the structure, shards of eterium lay scattered like broken glass.

Seneca knelt beside the obelisk, running his fingers over the inscriptions. "These markings..." he whispered. "They predate anything I’ve ever seen. This is no ordinary relic."

Marcus drew closer, unease settling in his chest. "What do they say?"

Seneca shook his head. "I’m not sure. But whatever this is—it’s not Roman. And it doesn’t belong in our world."

A sudden tremor shook the cavern, sending loose stones skittering across the floor. Marcus drew his sword, his instincts flaring as the vibrations grew stronger.

"We need to move—now!" Marcus shouted.

But it was too late.

The obelisk began to hum, its carvings glowing with an eerie blue light. The shards of eterium on the ground vibrated violently, as if resonating with the energy from the obelisk. Then, with a deafening crack, the obelisk split open.

From within the structure emerged a figure—tall, gaunt, and wrapped in tattered robes. Its eyes burned with a cold fire, and its presence radiated power. This was no ordinary foe.

Gaius took a step back, gripping his sword tightly. "What... in the gods’ names is that?"

The figure raised a hand, and the air around it shimmered. In an instant, a blast of energy surged toward them, throwing the group backward. Marcus hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs.

"Get up!" Marcus roared, struggling to his feet. "We fight or we die here!"

The figure moved with impossible speed, its robes billowing like smoke as it attacked. Marcus and Gaius fought side by side, their blades clashing against the figure’s ethereal strikes. Every swing felt like cutting through mist—solid one moment, insubstantial the next.

Seneca scrambled to his feet, frantically adjusting one of his devices. "If I can disrupt its energy field—"

"No time!" Marcus shouted, deflecting a blow that nearly severed his arm. "Just do it!"

Seneca twisted the final dial and slammed the device into the ground. A pulse of energy rippled through the cavern, disrupting the figure’s form. For a moment, it flickered—its body shifting between solidity and shadow.

"Now!" Marcus yelled. "Take it down!"

Gaius lunged forward, his blade slicing through the figure’s chest. With a final, agonized cry, the figure disintegrated into a cloud of ash, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

The cavern fell silent once more, save for the labored breathing of the survivors. Marcus sheathed his sword, his body aching from the battle.

Seneca crouched beside the shattered obelisk, his expression grim. "That... was just a fragment," he whispered. "There’s more buried deeper beneath the ice."

Marcus exhaled slowly, wiping sweat from his brow despite the cold. "Then we destroy everything we find—no matter what it takes."

Gaius gave a tired chuckle, wiping his blade clean. "At least we’re getting good stories out of this mess."

Marcus shook his head, a weary smile tugging at his lips. "Let’s hope we live long enough to tell them."

With the obelisk destroyed and the cavern quiet once more, the group gathered their gear and made their way back toward the Imperius. The storm had passed, but Marcus knew the real danger was still ahead.

As they ascended toward the surface, one thought lingered in his mind: If these fragments were just the beginning, what horrors lay waiting beneath the ice?