The Frozen God (2)

Behind him, a spectral form shifted and pulsed, and from it emerged massive black hands that clawed at the ruins with horrifying precision. Each hand left marks of destruction, crushing the ancient stone structures like brittle glass.

The priestess clutched the Orchestral Vialex tightly to her chest. Her white cloak, once pristine, was tattered and stained. Her crimson eyes glanced back briefly, wide with terror.

"If we slow down, we're dead!"

Vastarael nodded, his legs burning as he forced himself to pick up speed. Both of them were running at unnatural speeds, moving faster then the human eye can see, including the priestess.

The ground trembled violently beneath them, cracks spreading like veins through the ice. Around them, the frozen city twisted unnaturally, as if the god's presence alone corrupted its very existence.

The first hand came down with a thunderous crash, obliterating an ancient watchtower to their left. The shockwave sent shards of ice and stone hurtling through the air, forcing Vastarael to dive to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly debris. He rolled across the frozen ground, springing to his feet as another hand smashed down mere meters from where he stood.

The two of them sprinted through the maze of ruins, dodging as the god's massive hands slammed into the ground in a relentless attempt to crush them. Each strike sent tremors through the air.

Dozens of smaller black hands sprouted from the ground like spectral weeds, clawing at their feet. Vastarael swiped at them with his glaive but the sheer number of them made it impossible to clear a path.

One of the hands lunged at the priestess, its fingers coiling around her ankle like a serpent. She stumbled, the Vialex slipping from her grasp and skittering across the ice.

Vastarael reacted instantly, his glaive slicing through the shadowy appendage. The severed hand dissolved into black mist and he grabbed the priestess's arm, pulling her upright.

"Don't stop!"

"But we need the Vialex!"

He ran towards it and grabbed it instantly before turning back and handing it to her.

The god roared, reverberating through the ruins.

"You cannot flee from me, mortals! Your resistance is futile!"

Vastarael felt the oppressive weight of its words in his very soul but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. But he was offended.

"I'm an immortal you ugly freak!"

The city's entrance loomed ahead, an arched gateway half-buried in snow and ice. Beyond it was freedom, a vast expanse of tundra untouched by the god's influence. But between them and the exit stood the final obstacle.

It was a sea of spectral hands, writhing and reaching, blocking their path. Above them, a colossal hand formed from the god's energy, its fingers stretching outward like the talons of a predator preparing to strike.

"We're not going to make it!" The priestess shouted, panic seeping into her voice.

"Yes, we are! Run faster!"

Summoning every ounce of strength, he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the gateway, his speed doubling despite the burning pain in his legs. The spectral hands lunged at them from all directions, some mere inches away from grasping their limbs even as they ran at unbelievable speeds.

Vastarael twisted and turned as he struck down hand after hand using his glaive with one hand, his other holding the priestess.

The colossal hand above them began to descend, its massive shadow swallowing the ground beneath it. Vastarael's mind raced, calculating their trajectory. It would crush them before they could reach the exit. He tightened his grip on the priestess and dismissed his Divine Weapon.

He immediately unleashed a massive wave of sapphire that formed a huge ramp in front of them, which almost drained the little essence he had. The black hands began to crawl around it, trying to break it down.

A giant hand was about to smash them from above as hundreds of others were behind them and on their sides, and also below them.

"Jump!"

They both leaped on the ramp as the hand came crashing down, the impact shattering the ground beneath them. For a heart-stopping moment, they were airborne, the icy wind whipping past them as they soared through the gateway. The smaller hands reached for them, grazing their cloaks but failing to grab hold.

They hit the ground hard on the other side, tumbling across the snow before coming to a stop. Vastarael groaned, his body aching from the impact, but the bitter cold against his skin was a welcome reminder that they were alive. The priestess coughed, clutching the Vialex tightly to her chest as she struggled to her knees.

Behind them, the god's massive form loomed at the city's entrance, its black energy swirling like a storm. It reached for them, its colossal hand extending through the gateway, but it stopped short, unable to cross the threshold.

The god let out an enraged roar, its spectral form writhing in fury as the gateway's metal doors sealed itself shut, trapping it within the frozen ruins.

Vastarael lay on his back, staring up at the sky, his breath fogging the air. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the world was silent. The oppressive weight of the god's presence was gone, replaced by the stillness of the tundra.

He was extremely glad to be alive.

The priestess turned to him.

We made it…" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the cold wind.

Vastarael let out a shaky laugh, his golden eyes glimmering with relief.

"Barely. I have never experienced a life and death situation like that. We escaped."

For now, they had survived. And Vastarael had one vow he swore to fulfill. The hatred he had for that god was limitless. He lured an innocent woman and led to the destruction of her people.

Vastarael lay on the cold snow, his breath slow and ragged as he stared up at the overcast sky. The echoes of the god's enraged roar still rang faintly in his ears, but the oppressive weight of its presence was gone. For now, they had escaped. They had survived.

But survival wasn't enough. Not for him.

He sat up slowly, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. As he gazed at the frozen wasteland stretching before them, his voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

"One day... I will kill that god."

Peccavi looked at him, startled by the venom in his words. Her grip on the Vialex tightened as he turned his golden eyes toward her.

"Will you help me, Peccavi?"

Her response was immediate, her voice trembling with emotion but filled with unwavering conviction.

"Yes, My Lord. I swear it. That god ruined everything I held dear. I will fight by your side until the day we destroy it."

Vastarael gave her a nod, a flicker of gratitude passing through his features.

"Good. Then we'll begin by surviving what comes next."

Peccavi tilted her head.

"What do we do now? Where will we go?"

Vastarael stood as he stretched, his gaze scanning their surroundings. They were on the outskirts of the frozen city now, perched on a narrow cliffside overlooking the tundra below. The ruins lay ominously behind them, the lingering shadow of the god still visible as a faint distortion in the air.

He stepped to the edge of the cliff, his eyes narrowing as he looked into the distance. The wind howled around them, whipping his white curls against his face as he activated his advanced vision. A faint golden glow pulsed in his irises as his vision sharpened, focusing on a disturbance far below.

Through the falling snow, a formation of soldiers moved steadily across the icy plain. Thousands of men and women in thick armor trudged forward, their banners flapping violently in the wind. The air around them crackled with faint magical energy, and at their head rode a woman atop a pale warhorse.

Vastarael's eyes locked onto her immediately.

Her presence was commanding, her posture rigid with authority. She wore a sleek but practical suit of battle armor, lined with fur to fend off the cold. Her face was stern, yet hauntingly familiar, framed by shoulder-length wavy lightning blue hair that danced in the cold wind. Her piercing gaze scanned the horizon, as if she were searching for something..or someone.

His lips twisted into a wry smile.

"So she's here…"

Peccavi approached cautiously, the wind pulling at her tattered cloak, peering over his shoulder. Her eyes followed his gaze to the marching army below, her expression darkening.

"Humans? Are they heading for the ruins?"

"No," Vastarael replied. "They're moving toward the migration path. Which means they're heading for the caravan."

Peccavi frowned, her grip tightening on the Vialex.

"Do you know her? The woman leading them?"

Vastarael exhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving the figure in the distance.

"Yes. A... friend. Someone I never thought I'd see here. Seems she got a different side quest."

The priestess gave him a curious look, but Vastarael didn't elaborate. Instead, he straightened his posture and took a step back from the edge.

"We're going to meet her."

Peccavi blinked, her expression skeptical. "Are you certain that's wise, My Lord? They don't look particularly friendly."

Vastarael chuckled dryly, running a hand through his snow-dusted hair.

"Wise? No. Necessary? Absolutely."

His smile faded as his tone grew serious.

"If she's leading that army, then this situation is more complicated than I thought. And if the caravan is in danger, we need answers. Fast."

Peccavi hesitated but eventually nodded, her trust in him evident.

"Then lead the way, My Lord."

He glanced back toward the ruins one last time, the faint distortion of the god's presence a grim reminder of what they had barely escaped. With a deep breath, he turned and began making his way down the treacherous cliffside, Peccavi close behind.

As they descended, the cold wind carried the faint sound of drums and marching feet, the human army drawing closer with every passing moment. Vastarael's thoughts raced, the image of the woman's face lingering in his mind.

"Let's see what you're up to," he muttered under his breath, his steps quickening. "And why fate decided to bring us back together here of all places, Farrynelle Skyrover."