A sharp point of steel suddenly erupted from the white surface, frantically slicing through the powder. The snow collapsed inward, revealing the dark, muddy hole beneath. Ravon hauled himself up over the frozen edge, gasping as the freezing mountain air hit his lungs.
He immediately turned around, reaching his calloused hand back down into the pit. "Grab on."
Lyra's small, gloved hand caught his wrist. He easily pulled the little witch out of the trench. She landed softly on the snow beside him, immediately dusting the white powder off her black dress.
Ravon shivered, pulling the collar of his heavy blue fur coat tight against his neck. "I am freezing to death in a heavy coat. You are wearing a short dress. Aren't you cold?"
"No," Lyra answered, adjusting her pointed hat. "This dress is enchanted to regulate core temperature against extreme weather. Though it does require mana refilling to function."
Ravon stared at her. "You really are a rich kid, aren't you?"
"It is not my fault that you are completely broke," she replied dismissively. She poked him hard in the ribs with the end of her staff. "Start walking. The peak is still an hour away."
Ravon grunted, turning to trudge through the deep snow. "Are you absolutely sure we can find Soulfrost scales just lying around up there?"
"Yes," Lyra said confidently. "I spent two weeks researching Cryovax's habits in the Arkenfall archives. The dragon prefers to roost on the highest spires of the mountains. He sheds naturally."
"He sounds like an arrogant beast."
"Just pray to whatever deity you believe in that he doesn't decide to visit this specific peak while we are scavenging," she warned.
They pushed through the brutal incline, their lungs burning in the thin air until the slope finally leveled out into a wide, jagged plateau. The wind howled across the flat expanse of ice and snow.
Lyra didn't waste a second. She tapped her staff against the frozen earth three times. Three bulky rock golems pulled themselves from the ice, shaking off the frost.
"Search the perimeter for silver scales," Lyra commanded.
The three golems immediately split up, lumbering off in different directions across the plateau.
Ravon watched them go. "This plateau is massive. I think we need more than three golems."
"Three is my current active limit," Lyra said. She looked at him thoughtfully. "However, I could easily teach you the summoning spell. With your mana capacity, you could summon at least one golem to help search."
Ravon looked out over the empty snow, his expression instantly closing off. "No thanks. I can just search with my own eyes."
Lyra frowned, stepping around to block his path. "Why are you so aggressively opposed to learning new magic? Is it a mental block? Or is it genuinely a past trauma?"
Ravon tightened his grip on his scabbard. "It just doesn't interest me."
"Why?"
Ravon let out a heavy breath, the cold air stinging his throat. "Because the last time I tried to learn advanced magic... when I used the tornado spell... I lost control of it completely. I nearly killed my little sister, the one person I swore to protect forever."
Lyra's analytical expression softened slightly. "So, a trauma is involved. I cannot force you to learn something you are terrified of. But I will say this: your reasoning is completely illogical."
"How is it illogical?"
"Tornado magic is an complex, high-tier elemental manifestation," Lyra explained. "If you only knew basic spells, casting a localized tornado shouldn't have even been physically possible. Losing control wasn't a failure of your ability; it was a freak magical accident caused by an unstable core. You can't let one anomaly cripple your potential."
"You aren't going to make me change my mind," Ravon said stubbornly, walking past her.
"I don't want to," Lyra called after him. "I just wanted you to know you are being an idiot."
They spread out, scanning the blinding white snow.
Fifteen minutes later, a glint of light caught Ravon's eye. "Look! I found one!"
He rushed over to the small, shining object buried in the powder. He dropped to his knees, excitedly digging it out with his bare hands. He held it up triumphantly.
It was just a perfectly smooth, reflective chunk of ice.
Lyra let out a sharp, mocking laugh from across the plateau. "Wow! That is one hundred percent a Soulfrost! Incredible find, muscle-head!"
Ravon scowled. He dropped the ice, scooped up a massive handful of loose powder, and packed it tightly together. Without warning, he hurled the snowball straight at her.
Smack.
The snowball hit Lyra squarely in the shoulder, exploding in a shower of white across her enchanted dress.
Her laughter stopped instantly. She slowly turned her head, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "You have crossed a line."
She immediately dropped her staff, scooped up a terrifying amount of snow, and packed a significantly larger, harder snowball. She whipped it at Ravon with pinpoint accuracy, catching him right in the chest.
"Hey!" Ravon yelled, laughing. He rapidly packed three smaller snowballs, firing them in a quick volley.
For the next ten minutes, the deadly, serious scavenge mission devolved into an absolute, chaotic snow fight. Ravon used his physical speed to dodge, while Lyra used her accuracy to relentlessly pelt him from across the plateau.
Their laughter echoed brightly in the freezing, dead air of the mountain.
A heavy, grinding footstep broke the moment.
One of the rock golems lumbered back into the center of the plateau. Clutched carefully in its thick stone fingers was a large, diamond-shaped object that gleamed with an ethereal, pristine silver light.
Lyra immediately dropped the snowball in her hand. "Look. We found one."
Ravon jogged over, brushing the snow off his coat. He stared at the massive scale. Up close, the silver surface was composed of thousands of microscopic, interlocking hexagonal shapes. "It looks beautiful."
"Enough complimenting the loot," Lyra ordered, pulling her dimensional pouch open. "Get back to work."
"You mean the snow fight?"
"No, you idiot. Find the second scale." She commanded the golem to gently drop the Soulfrost into her magical pocket.
They resumed their search. Ravon used the tip of his scabbard to probe the deeper snowdrifts. Near the southern edge of the plateau, his steel hit something solid that didn't feel like ice or rock.
He hurriedly brushed the snow away. Resting against a jagged rock was a second, perfectly preserved silver scale.
"I found one!" Ravon shouted.
Without thinking, he reached down and grabbed the diamond-shaped scale with his bare hand.
The moment his skin touched the silver, an intense surge of raw elemental magic shot inside his palm.
"Ah!" Ravon yelled, immediately dropping the scale. He clutched his right hand.
Lyra walked over, a smug, deeply satisfied smile playing on her lips. "And how did it feel?" she asked, intentionally teasing him.
"It felt incredibly hot!" Ravon gasped, rubbing his palm.
"Is your sensory network broken?" Lyra asked, raising an eyebrow. "Soulfrost emits a localized freezing aura that targets the soul. How could it possibly feel hot?"
Ravon broke into a grin. "What was I supposed to say? You already know it's freezing."
Lyra sighed. She tapped her staff against the ice. A single rock golem pulled itself from the ground, gently picking up the freezing scale and depositing it into her pouch.
"Aren't you only supposed to have three golems at a time?"
"I dismissed the search party because we found the final item," Lyra explained slowly, as if talking to a toddler. "Are you incapable of logical thought?"
"Thinking is your job."
"Yes, I suppose I cannot expect logical deductions from a you," she agreed easily.
"Can we go to the mining cave now?" Ravon asked, desperate to change the subject.
"If you insist." Lyra pointed toward a narrow, treacherous path winding down the far side of the peak. "According to the map, that path connects to the outer ring of abandoned Mithril mines."
"Let's go grab an ore."
As they carefully navigated the steep, icy descent, Lyra glanced over her shoulder. "By the way, I do not see a pickaxe attached to your bag."
Ravon offered a deeply awkward, sheepish smile. "I... forgot to buy mining equipment."
Lyra stopped walking. "Then exactly how do you plan to extract the most durable metal in the entire world from solid bedrock?"
"With my fists."
"Seriously?"
"I'll figure it out," Ravon promised, pushing past her.
An hour later, the path leveled out, leading directly toward a massive, dark opening carved into the side of the mountain. "Lucky!" Ravon grinned, jogging toward the entrance.
He stopped just inside the mouth of the cave. The entire tunnel was completely caved in, blocked by tons of massive, jagged boulders.
Lyra walked up behind him. "Unlucky."
Ravon drew his chipped sword. He channeled the red aura of Strength, swinging the blade in a furious volley of slashes. The enchanted steel cut through the heavy boulders like warm butter, leaving deep, clean slices in the rock.
"Cutting them into pieces doesn't move them," Lyra pointed out dryly. "They are still blocking the path."
"I am cutting them into smaller chunks so your golems can haul them out easier!" Ravon argued.
"I am raising your life debt by six silver coins," Lyra declared.
"Why?!"
"Because labor costs mana, and extracting your Mithril is a personal endeavor, not part of our official guild quest."
Another reason why you don't have friends, Ravon whispered under his breath.
"What did you say?"
"I said, how incredibly generous of you!" Ravon smiled tightly. "Please summon your golems and help this poor, indebted swordsman."
Lyra tapped her staff. Two rock golems materialized.
For the next two hours, they worked in grueling tandem. Ravon sliced the massive boulders into manageable blocks, and the golems hauled the heavy stone out of the tunnel. It was exhausting, back-breaking labor.
Finally, the path cleared. They stepped deeper into the cavern.
"Why aren't you dismissing the golems?" Ravon asked as the stone constructs lumbered behind them. "The tunnel is getting narrower."
"I have summoned six golems today," Lyra explained, her voice echoing in the dark. "The initial summoning cost of a golem requires significantly more mana than simply maintaining an already active one. I am conserving my core."
"Ah. Makes sense."
As they ventured deeper, the pitch-black tunnel began to softly illuminate. Patches of glowing, bioluminescent blue mushrooms clung to the damp walls, casting a ghostly light over the exposed rock faces.
Veins of raw, unrefined minerals glittered in the stone.
Ravon stopped, staring at a cluster of smooth, blood-red gems protruding from the wall. "Those look incredibly expensive."
"Do not get greedy," Lyra warned sharply. "You promised. One Mithril ore."
"You are the greedy one! You literally just charged me six silver to move rocks!"
"And thanks to that manual labor, my mana core is currently sitting at half capacity," she retorted.
They kept walking. The air grew stale and heavy.
"What if Cryovax shows up while we are trying to leave?" Ravon asked, his paranoia spiking.
"I highly doubt an ancient, mythical dragon is going to fly all the way down to the base of the mountain just to challenge a child," Lyra dismissed confidently.
"A child? You are only one year older than me!"
"I am eleven years old, little boy."
"Aunty."
Lyra stopped dead. "You are not leaving this cave alive."
Ravon sprinting ahead down the tunnel. Lyra chased after him, her staff raised.
Ravon rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. Protruding from the dark gray bedrock at waist height was a jagged chunk of dark blue ore. It didn't glitter; it seemed to actively absorb the ambient light of the glowing mushrooms.
"Look!" Ravon called back. "I found—"
Smack.
The wooden end of Lyra's staff cracked hard against Ravon's cheek.
"Ow!" Ravon yelped, rubbing his face.
Lyra lowered her staff, looking at the blue metal. "Look. You found one."
"That is exactly what I was trying to say!"
Ravon stepped up to the raw ore. He took a deep breath, pulling his right fist back. He channeled a heavy surge of red Strength mana directly into his knuckles and drove a devastating punch squarely into the blue metal.
CRACK.
Pain exploded up Ravon's entire arm. The kinetic shockwave bounced completely off the ore, throwing him backward. "Ouch! Ouch, ouch!" he hissed, shaking his throbbing, bruised hand.
Lyra burst out laughing.
She leaned on her staff, thoroughly enjoying his misery. Once her laughter subsided, she pointed at the blue metal. The two rock golems lumbered forward.
They raised their massive stone fists and began to mercilessly pummel the ore. The deafening sound of stone slamming into metal echoed through the cavern.
After a minute of relentless strikes, a hairline fracture appeared at the base of the Mithril. However, the golems' fists were completely shattered, reduced to jagged stumps of useless rock.
Lyra dismissed the ruined constructs with a wave of her hand. "We need more golems to break it free."
"No," Ravon stopped her.
He stared at the blue ore. He had chipped Darius's sword. He had recklessly damaged the only treasure the man owned. I caused this problem. I have to fix it.
He stepped up to the rock face. Raising both fists, he flooded his hands with the absolute maximum output of red Strength mana his core could handle.
He threw a punch. Then another. And another.
He didn't stop. He turned himself into a living battering ram, unleashing a relentless, brutal flurry of strikes against the indestructible metal.
His knuckles split open. Blood splattered across the dark blue ore.
"Stop, you idiot!" Lyra shouted, her amusement instantly turning to genuine alarm. "You are going to shatter every bone in your hands!"
Ravon ignored her. The pain was blinding, but the red aura flared brighter with every strike. Blood splattered onto his face, soaking into the white fur of his coat, but he kept swinging.
CRACK.
With one final, devastating right hook, the thick vein of blue Mithril sheared cleanly off the bedrock, clattering heavily to the cave floor.
Ravon dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Both of his hands were mangled, dripping dark blood onto the stone.
Lyra was beside him in a second. She grabbed a fresh healing vial from her pouch, popped the cork, and forced the liquid down his throat.
"You are the biggest, most reckless idiot I have ever met in my entire life," she scolded furiously, though her hands were gentle as she inspected his ruined knuckles.
As the magical potion knit the torn flesh back together, Lyra unceremoniously kicked the heavy, bloody chunk of Mithril ore into her dimensional pouch. She pulled a clean cloth from her dress and shoved it against his chest.
"Wipe the blood off your face," she ordered.
"Thank you," Ravon mumbled. He summoned a small sphere of clean water, splashed it over his face, and scrubbed the dried blood away with the cloth.
"You have your ore," Lyra said, standing up and turning toward the exit. "Let's leave."
"As soon as we get back to Arkenfall, I am going to repair the sword," Ravon said, following close behind. "And then I need to write a letter to Mira and Darius."
Lyra reached up, her fingers brushing the silver skull whistle hidden beneath her dress. "I suppose I also need to write a letter when we return. But first, I desperately want a bath. I refuse to smell like you any longer."
"Through all the sweat and the fighting, you already smell exactly like me," Ravon teased.
"Absolutely not."
They navigated the long, winding tunnel back toward the surface. When they finally stepped out of the dark cave and back into the freezing mountain air, Lyra let out a long, relieved sigh.
"That cave was entirely suffocating," she breathed.
"So, our next destination is straight back to Arkenfall," Ravon confirmed, looking out over the frozen wasteland.
Suddenly, the ambient air pressure didn't just drop—it completely shattered.
An astronomical, paralyzing weight of ancient mana slammed down upon them from the sky. The physical force of the aura was so overwhelming that both Ravon and Lyra were instantly forced to their knees, driving them hard into the snow.
"Don't tell me—" Ravon choked, unable to breathe.
A colossal shadow eclipsed the sun, plunging the entire valley into darkness.
With a deafening, earth-shattering BOOM, a massive force landed directly behind them, completely blocking the entrance to the mining cave. The impact triggered a minor avalanche, sending tons of loose snow cascading down the slope.
Trembling, entirely unable to stand against the sheer gravity of the aura, Ravon slowly turned his head.
Towering over one hundred feet tall, standing proudly on four massive, muscular legs, was Cryovax.
The frost dragon was entirely encased in flawless, glittering silver scales. Its enormous, majestic wings were flared wide, casting a shadow that swallowed the mountain. But it was the eyes—ancient, glowing pools of piercing blue intelligence—that completely froze both souls.
Neither Ravon nor Lyra could move. It wasn't a spell holding them in place. It was the absolute, dominating presence of an apex predator.
Cryovax lowered his massive, horned head, exhaling a cloud of freezing vapor.
When the dragon spoke, its voice did not vibrate the air. It resonated directly inside their minds, deep and ancient like shifting glaciers.
You insects truly believed you could trespass in my domain without my notice? I sensed your pathetic auras the moment you engaged those mongrel wolves.
Hearing a mythical beast speak didn't shock Ravon. Nothing mattered except the sheer, overwhelming proximity to death.
He forced his frozen jaw to move. "Run."
Fighting through the paralyzing gravity of the aura, Ravon and Lyra scrambled to their feet. They turned and bolted, sprinting desperately down the snowy path.
Behind them, the ancient dragon let out a low, terrifying rumble that sounded like an avalanche.
You are not running away from me.