The Tale Of The Four Winter Labors

Vastarael, his eyes narrowing with curiosity, broke the silence.

"Peccavi, what exactly are we looking at?"

Her gaze didn't leave them.

"I'll show you the story of the Winter Labors. Watch, and I will explain."

Farrynelle folded her arms but leaned closer, her emerald eyes gleaming with interest despite her skepticism.

"This better be worth it."

She immediately formed a mural on the table and it shifted, forming an image of a towering god shrouded in an icy storm. Its figure was indistinct, wrapped in a veil of frost and shadow, but its presence was powerful.

"Long ago," Peccavi began, "a god descended upon the Erna Isles. Its power was immense. It was not a creator nor a protector, but a force of devastation. The god came not to give but to take land, life, and will. It claimed the Isles as its own."

The image on the table shifted to show the god raising its hand, shards of ice falling from the heavens like spears. Xander's expression darkened as he stared at the figure.

"Did the people fight back?"

Peccavi shook her head.

"They tried, but they were mortal. Their strength was no match for divinity. Instead, they submitted instead. And the only people who lived in the isles are the Raukerai and other human cities, like the Volxane Kingdom which army you're commanding and... my city and other cities too."

The painting changed again, showing a gathering of humans kneeling before the god, their faces contorted in fear and despair.

"Among those who submitted were four individuals who pledged their loyalty to the god in exchange for power. Their allegiance was rewarded with a fragment of the god's power and they became its champions, the four Winter Labors."

The mural morphed, depicting four figures standing tall, each radiating an aura of frost and death.

Farrynelle frowned, leaning closer.

"Four champions? And they just… what? Froze the entire Isles on their own?"

Peccavi nodded, her expression grim.

"They did more than that. Each of the Labors embodied one of winter's cruelest aspects, spreading its curse across the land."

She gestured to the first figure, wreathed in swirling storms.

"The first was the Blizzard's Wrath, a being who commanded the raging snowstorms that blinded and buried entire villages and cities."

The image shifted to a second figure, this one surrounded by falling mountains.

"The second was the Avalanche's Might, whose power caused mountains to crumble and crush all beneath their weight."

Another figure emerged, this one cloaked in ice that spread across the ground.

"The third was the Permafrost's Grasp, who froze the earth itself, rendering soil and water lifeless."

Finally, the mural showed a fourth figure, their presence exuding a chill so profound it froze everything in its path.

"And the fourth was the Sheer Cold's Grip, whose touch brought death, halting hearts and lives with a single breath."

The images faded, leaving a desolate landscape of frozen ruins.

"And the god? What role did it play in all this?" Xander asked.

Peccavi hesitated for a moment, then touched the table again. A new image emerged, one of the god seated on an icy throne, watching its Labors spread destruction.

"The god gave them their power but did not control them. It didn't need to. The Labors were bound to their titles, their very existence tied to the winter they embodied. They were its tools, its enforcers. And as long as the god remained, so too would the Labors."

Farrynelle's hand clenched into a fist.

"So, the only way to stop this hellscape is to kill the god itself?"

"Yes," Peccavi replied simply.

Xander studied her carefully before he questioned.

"You speak of this as if you've lived it. What aren't you telling us, Peccavi?"

Her expression faltered, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face before she steadied herself.

"Because I have," she admitted. "In my first life, I faced one of the Labors... and failed."

The mural changed again, this time showing a younger version of Peccavi, standing against a monstrous figure cloaked in a blizzard. The image flickered, showing her defeat and the devastation that followed.

She was turned into a monster, the same statue Vastarael saw back in the cathedral.

"But the Orchestral Vialex granted me a second chance. I regressed, sent back to relive the moment I failed. And this time…I killed one of them, the Blizzard's Wrath. But... there was a price."

The painting showed Peccavi standing over the fallen body of the Labor, her own figure beginning to shift and change. Black chains surrounded her.

"When you kill a Labor, you take its place. Its power, its curse, its role, they become yours. That is how the Winter Labors endure. Unless the god is destroyed, the curse cannot be truly eradicated. They are eternal."

Farrynelle stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief.

"You… you became one of them?"

Peccavi nodded. "I did. For a time, I was the Blizzard's Wrath. However, I didn't want to involve more people to die so I usually sent them away. Two young girls once appeared to the ruins of my city one day and I managed to take them to safety. If they stayed longer, the souls in the cathedral would have consumed them."

Vastarael knew that she was talking about Taryenne and Rienne when they saw the Refuge of Winter, also known as the Blizzard's Wrath. He didn't understand why she attacked him with a fanatical desire to save him and then gave up the second he defeated her past self.

'Maybe she thought that I was an enemy and killing her first self made her realize that I didn't meant any harm?'

He shrugged and shook the thought off as Peccavi continued her story.

"By pledging myself to Lord Vastarael, I broke free from the god's hold. The extreme blizzards that once plagued the Isles ended with me. The storms are still fierce, but they are no longer deadly."

Vastarael crossed his arms, thinking deeply.

"And the other Labors?"

"They remain," Peccavi said. "And if we kill them, their curses will end as well. But each death brings us closer to the final battle. The god will not remain idle."

Farrynelle smirked, her confidence returning.

"So, the plan is simple. Kill the Labors, face the god, and end this winter nightmare."

Peccavi's gaze darkened.

"Simple, yes. But not easy. Each Labor is as powerful as a Divine, and the god… it is unlike anything you've ever faced."

Peccavi traced her fingers along the edge of the mural. The image shifted again, revealing Permafrost's Grasp, a monstrous figure encased in ice. Around it, a wasteland of frozen rivers and lifeless tundra sprawled across the table.

"In my opinion, we should target the Permafrost's Grasp first. He's stronger than I ever was as the Blizzard's Wrath, but he's weaker than the Avalanche or the Sheer Cold. More importantly, taking him down first won't disrupt the balance as much as the others."

"Balance? What do you mean by that?"

Peccavi nodded toward the table, her crimson eyes meeting his briefly.

"The Labors are interconnected, My Lord. If one falls, the others grow stronger to fill the void."

The mural began to shift, illustrating her words. The figure of the Permafrost's Grasp shattered into countless icy shards, and the territories of the remaining Labors expanded, their influence growing darker and more oppressive.

"For example," Peccavi continued, "if we kill the Avalanche's Might first, the snow that blankets the Isles will vanish. But without the snow, the ice of the Permafrost and the cold of the Sheer Cold will grow stronger. The absence of snow will make the ice harder, sharper and deadlier, and the cold will become a suffocating void that kills without mercy."

Farrynelle frowned, leaning closer to examine the moving images.

"So, by killing one, we make the others more powerful?"

Peccavi nodded gravely. "Exactly. The Labors adapt. The wrong sequence can turn a difficult battle into an impossible one."

Xander, who had been listening intently, crossed his arms.

"And you're certain the Permafrost's Grasp is the right target to start with? What makes him the weaker link?"

Peccavi gestured toward the icy figure on the table, its form towering and menacing but lacking the raw fury of the Avalanche or the bone-chilling presence of the Sheer Cold.

"He's strong, but his domain, ice, is more static. Unlike the blizzards or avalanches, ice doesn't spread rapidly. It's territorial and confined. Killing him won't destabilize the Isles as much as the others."

The mural shifted again, showing the Permafrost's Grasp falling, his icy territory dissolving into a cold but manageable landscape. Snow still fell lightly in the background, and faint winds stirred the frost.

"If we eliminate him," Peccavi continued, "the ice will recede. Snow and cold will remain, but they'll be manageable. The Avalanche and the Sheer Cold will still be powerful, but they won't gain as much from his death. It keeps the balance intact."

Vastarael leaned forward, his hands resting on the edge of the table.

"And after him? What happens when we move on to the others?"

Peccavi hesitated, her gaze flickering.

"That's where it gets riskier. The sequence matters. If we kill the Permafrost's Grasp, we'll need to move quickly to the Avalanche's Might before the Sheer Cold consolidates power. Each step must be calculated, or we risk making them stronger."

Xander huffed, crossing her arms.

"So basically, we're walking a tightrope. One wrong move, and we're done for."

Peccavi nodded, her expression solemn. "Exactly."

Xander's brow furrowed as he studied the mural.

"What about the god? Will it interfere while we're taking down the Labors?"

*The god doesn't control them but it's not idle. It's watching and waiting. The more we disrupt its influence, the more likely it is to act. By the time we face the final Labor, it will know our every move."

A tense silence fell over the group as they absorbed her words. Vastarael broke it with a steady, determined voice.

"Then we make sure every move counts. We start with the Permafrost's Grasp. Peccavi, how do we find him?"

Peccavi waved her hand, and the mural shifted again, revealing a frozen river winding through a jagged landscape of ice cliffs and glacial caverns. At the heart of the image stood a crystalline fortress, glittering with an unnatural light.

"He resides in the Obsidian Runic Spire in Halo Islands," she said. "We'll have to cross the ocean and head to the islands but we'll have to pass through the Island of Peony first."

Farrynelle smirked, her eyes gleaming.

"Disrupting terrain? Sounds like my kind of job."

Xander nodded with a grin. "And I'll handle the frontline. I can take whatever his guards throw at us. Vastarael will act as support. He's a mage after all."

Vastarael glanced at Peccavi, his golden eyes softening.

"And you? Are you ready to face him again?"

Peccavi's gaze hardened, her voice steady. "I am. However... it will be even more difficult than before."

Vastarael gave a nod before elaborating their next actions.

"Good. Then we'll rest for the next few days, plan on how to face the Permafrost's Grasp. Then, we'll move out to kill a Divine... Seriously, we're buying more than we can chew here..."