The History Of The Frozen Ruins

The very second Vastarael stepped into the open doors of the cathedral, the massive wooden doors snapped shut.

"Great. Typical horror stuff."

He combined his Soul Vision with his normal vision. But to his shock, even after he did that, he couldn't see the souls.

Instead, he was looking at a church.

His golden eyes glowed faintly as he activated Soul Vision once more, combining it with his normal sight to pierce through the veil of shadows. But instead of seeing the swirling mass of trapped souls he'd spotted from outside, his vision revealed something far more mundane... yet equally unnerving.

The once-brilliant glow of the souls had vanished entirely, leaving him staring at the interior of a church, decrepit but eerily preserved. The sight before him sent a chill down his spine.

Rows of wooden benches lined the expansive hall, their surfaces warped and splintered from centuries of neglect. The faint scent of decay hung in the air, and the floor beneath him was a mosaic of broken tiles coated in a thin layer of frost. Each step he took caused the brittle tiles to crunch softly, the sound amplified by the unnatural silence.

The walls, once adorned with vibrant murals, were now cracked and faded, the artwork barely discernible beneath layers of grime and ice.

Massive stained-glass windows lined the sides of the cathedral, their fractured panels casting fragmented beams of dim light onto the snow-covered floor. The colors had dulled to a sickly mix of blues and grays, giving the entire place an unsettling, lifeless hue.

At the far end of the aisle stood a massive statue of a goddess, looming over the altar. The figure was carved from dark stone, its surface worn smooth in places yet jagged in others. Her form was draped in flowing robes, but... the proportions were twisted and wrong.

Her arms were too long, her hands too sharp, and her head tilted at an unnatural angle, as if she were watching from above. Her face was the most horrifying of all: eyes hollowed out, a gaping smile that stretched unnaturally wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth carved into the stone.

Vastarael's gaze lingered on the statue but he couldn't deny the faint shiver that ran through him.

Behind him, Phaenora's holographic form appeared, flickering erratically as if affected by the oppressive energy in the room.

The moment her eyes fell on the statue, she let out a sharp, high-pitched scream.

[AHHH! Nope, nope, nope! This is where I'm out! This is officially nightmare fuel!]

She clutched her head, her incorporeal form darting behind Vastarael like a frightened child.

[What is that? Why does it have teeth? GODS, WHY DOES IT HAVE TEETH?]

Vastarael tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow after hearing her scream.

"You're scared of a statue? Seriously?"

[Excuse me? It's not just a statue. It's a demon-spawning, cursed, pure horror monstrosity! Look at it! It's smiling like it knows we're about to die! Are you not seeing this?!]

She jabbed a glowing finger toward the statue, her form quivering as though she might bolt at any second.

He sighed, crossing his arms as he studied the statue again. The longer he looked, the more unsettling it became. There was something... alive about the way its empty eyes seemed to follow him, its jagged smile frozen in malicious glee.

"Alright, I'll admit it's creepy," Vastarael said finally, his voice calm but edged with tension. "But screaming about it isn't helping. Besides... I didn't think you'd be the type to scare so easily."

Her holographic form flickered indignantly.

[I'm not scared... I'm practicing situational awareness! Big difference! And you should be more worried too, because statues like that? They're never just statues. You're about three steps away from unleashing something that's going to eat your pretty face!]

"Well, let's hope it's a picky eater," Vastarael muttered, stepping closer to the altar.

The air grew heavier as he approached the statue, the temperature plummeting even further. Every instinct in Vastarael's body screamed at him to back away, but he pressed forward, his footsteps echoing ominously in the hollow silence. Even his Heat Runes seemed to dim slightly, as if the oppressive energy of the place was swallowing their warmth.

Phaenora, still trailing behind him, whispered frantically.

[Veneri, I'm serious. This place is wrong. That thing is wrong. Just… get out before it's too late.]

But he ignored her, his focus shifting to the altar beneath the statue. There, faintly etched into the stone, was a series of Xinoraci Runes, their shapes twisted and unfamiliar. The carvings pulsed faintly, as though alive, and the energy emanating from them was unlike anything Vastarael had felt before.

"This isn't just a cathedral," he murmured, his golden eyes narrowing. "It's a tomb. And something doesn't want us here."

Behind him, Phaenora groaned.

[Told you. I'm so done with this. First chance we get, we're leaving and burning this place to the ground.]

Vastarael didn't respond, his attention fully consumed by the chilling realization that they were not alone in this place. He read the runes aloud while his fingers touched them gently.

"Here lies the Priestess of the Winter Labor, Peccavi. May she forever rest in the mountain gardens."

[She doesn't look like a priestess to me. She's a demon. Let's get out of here, please...]

"Hang on. Are those... murals on the walls?"

As Vastarael's sharp gaze caught the faint outlines of murals etched into one section of the cathedral walls, he felt an unusual pull. Phaenora, still flickering nervously by his side, tilted her holographic head and muttered;

[Murals? Here? I swear, this place just keeps getting creepier.]

Ignoring her commentary, Vastarael strode toward the nearest mural. The intricate paintings were alive.

Literally.

The images moved in a seamless flow, transitioning from one frame to the next as though they were telling a story, each painting inching slowly along the wall toward the altar.

The first mural depicted a sprawling city of breathtaking beauty, its vibrancy so vivid it felt as though Vastarael could step right into the painting. The streets were bustling with life, filled with joyous humans clad in richly colored garments. Markets lined the avenues, their stalls overflowing with fruits, fabrics and trinkets that shimmered even in painted form.

At the heart of the city stood the very cathedral he now explored, though it looked far different in this depiction.

It rose majestically above the surrounding buildings, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens. The stained-glass windows glowed with ethereal light and the large statue at its entrance was serene and welcoming, a benevolent guardian watching over the people.

"This is what it used to be," Vastarael murmured, running his fingers over the mural's surface. Even through his gloves, he could feel a faint warmth emanating from it. "It was the center of their world."

Phaenora hovered closer, her usual jittery energy quieted by the mural's beauty.

[Huh. Almost makes you forget this place gives me corpse crypt vibes.]

The mural shifted, the colors growing darker. Vastarael took a step to the side, following the progression. The second mural was far grimmer.

A battlefield, stretching as far as the eye could see, where monstrous creatures clawed, bit, and tore at the city's defenses. The once-bright city was shrouded in smoke and ash, its walls crumbling under the onslaught.

Above the city gates stood a woman dressed in flowing white, her arms raised high. A radiant golden light surrounded her, illuminating the battlefield like a beacon of hope. Her face, serene yet resolute, hinted at her identity.

[That's the priestess. She must've been their protector.]

"She fought for them," Vastarael said, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied the scene. "They are Krepsunas... now that I think about it, when did they first appear to Spheraphase?"

The monsters, grotesque amalgamations of fangs, claws, and shadow, seemed to recoil from the light she emitted. But even her divine radiance couldn't hold them back forever.

The next mural made Vastarael's jaw tighten.

The monsters had broken through.

The once-thriving city was now a graveyard of shattered buildings and lifeless streets. The people who had filled the first mural with laughter and life were now painted in horrifying detail: bodies torn apart, faces frozen in terror, and blood staining the cobblestones.

The monsters roamed freely, their glowing red eyes and grotesque forms stalking through the wreckage. Vastarael could almost hear the echoes of screams emanating from the mural.

At the center of the devastation stood the priestess, her once-golden aura dimmed and flickering. Her face was etched with despair, tears streaking her cheeks as she knelt among the mountains of corpses, her white robes soaked in crimson.

[Okay, this is officially worse than I thought,] Phaenora said, her voice trembling. [This isn't just tragic... it's... it's cursed. I can feel it.]

The fourth mural's transition was almost unbearable.

The priestess was now completely alone, surrounded by tens of thousands of bodies. Her light had turned from gold to a deep, malevolent black, swirling around her like a living shadow. Her expression of sorrow deepened into... an overwhelming grief fused with rage.

In the painting, cracks began to form beneath her feet, spreading outward like spiderwebs. The city itself seemed to be collapsing, sinking into an abyss as her sorrow poisoned the land. Vastarael leaned closer, noticing how the details of her eyes shimmered with an unnatural glow. She wasn't just mourning.

She was transforming.

"She became something else," Vastarael muttered, his voice heavy.

[She became a monster,] Phaenora corrected, her voice flat. [The same kind of monster that destroyed her city.]

The final mural was a nightmare come to life. Vastarael froze, his breath caught in his throat as he took in the horrific scene before him.

The priestess, now unrecognizable, stood at the altar of the cathedral. Her form had twisted into something monstrous.

Her once-flowing robes were now tattered and fused with her body, her hands elongated into claws dripping with dark energy. Her face, frozen in a scream of agony, radiated malice.

Surrounding her were thousands of glowing, tormented souls, their spectral forms writhing in agony. They were chained to the cathedral's walls, their faces twisted in endless suffering. These were the very souls Vastarael had seen earlier with his Soul Vision, trapped here, forever bound to their priestess's curse.

The mural was so vivid it felt alive, as though the cries of the souls were echoing in the cathedral itself.

Phaenora recoiled in terror.

[Oh, gods. No. Veneri, we need to leave. This is bad... this is worse than bad. We are way out of our depth over here!]

Vastarael's golden eyes hardened, his jaw tightening.

"She's still here. And she's the one keeping them trapped."

Phaenora's holographic form flickered violently.

[You think she's still alive after all that? Seriously? Vastarael, that thing is NOT alive. It's something else. Something we don't want to meet. WE NEED TO LEAVE! NOW!]

But Vastarael didn't move, his gaze fixed on the mural's final, horrifying detail.

The priestess's eyes, dark and soulless, were staring straight at him.

"It's too late."

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A/N: Was it creepy?

I highly doubt it was...