Chapter 20: The Hunt Begins

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blood. Faye crouched behind a jagged outcrop, her breath slow and controlled despite the lingering ache in her body. The battle in the cavern had drained her, but there was no time for weakness.

Not now.

Not when the Empress's hunters were closing in.

She could hear them in the distance—boots crunching over frostbitten grass, the occasional murmur of hushed voices. They moved with precision, spreading out, circling the ruins where she and her allies had taken shelter.

"They're getting too close," Lyra whispered, adjusting her grip on her blades. "We need to move."

Kael didn't respond immediately. He stood near the edge of the broken stone wall, watching the approaching forces with an unreadable expression.

Riven shot him a glare. "If you've got something to say, say it."

Kael exhaled. "They're the Empress's best. They won't stop until they've found us." He turned to Faye. "Running won't work. They'll track us, corner us."

Faye studied him carefully. "Then what do you suggest?"

Kael's eyes gleamed in the darkness. "We make them think they've found us."

---

The hunters moved through the ruins, their leader raising a hand to signal a halt. He tilted his head, listening.

The wind howled through the crumbling stones. The night was silent otherwise—too silent.

Something was wrong.

Then—

A whisper of movement.

A soft breath.

Too late.

An arrow whistled through the air, embedding itself in the first hunter's throat before he could react. He collapsed without a sound.

Chaos erupted.

Lyra dropped from her perch, twin blades flashing in the moonlight as she tore through the nearest enemies. Riven surged forward, his spear crackling with raw energy as he met a hunter head-on, their weapons clashing in a burst of sparks.

Kael was a ghost in the shadows, his dagger slipping between ribs, silent, deadly.

And then—

A pulse of magic.

Faye stepped forward, her pulse steady, her breath curling in the icy air.

Frost answered her call.

The ground beneath the hunters' feet turned slick with ice, creeping over their boots, locking them in place. One of them cursed, struggling to move—before a jagged spike of ice erupted from the ground, impaling him instantly.

Faye didn't stop.

She moved like the storm itself, her newfound power coiling around her like an extension of her will. A flick of her wrist sent a wave of frost surging forward, freezing weapons, limbs—bodies.

And above them all—

Talis descended.

The massive dragon landed with an earth-shaking thud, his glowing eyes burning with fury. His wings spread wide, and in the next breath, he roared—a blast of pure, glacial power ripping through the battlefield, turning everything in its path to ice.

The hunters never stood a chance.

One by one, they fell.

And when the storm settled—

Only silence remained.

Faye let out a slow breath, her pulse thrumming with the cold, exhilarating power coursing through her veins.

She turned to Kael.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then he nodded.

She didn't trust him. Not completely.

But for now, they had won.

And the hunt was only beginning.

The bodies had barely turned cold when the night trembled with a new threat.

Faye felt it first—a shift in the air, something dark and insidious curling at the edges of her senses. It wasn't just magic. It was something deeper.

A presence.

A will.

The Empress was watching.

Talis lifted his head abruptly, his ice-blue eyes narrowing toward the horizon. A low, warning growl rumbled from his throat.

Riven turned sharply. "What is it?"

Kael's expression darkened. "We need to leave. Now."

Lyra scoffed, wiping blood from her blade. "We just won. You want to run already?"

But before anyone could argue—

A pulse of power surged through the air.

The ruins around them groaned as if the very stones were in agony. The icy ground beneath Faye's feet cracked, frost splitting like veins of lightning.

Then—

Shadows erupted.

From the fractures in the ground, dark tendrils shot up, writhing, hungry. They moved like living things, snaking toward the bodies of the fallen hunters.

And then—

They rose.

The hunters who had been frozen, impaled, slain—they moved.

Their heads snapped upward, eyes hollow, dark magic pooling in their veins like ink. Bones cracked. Flesh stretched unnaturally.

Riven took a step back, grip tightening on his spear. "No." His voice was firm, but there was an edge to it. A rare thing. Fear.

Kael's jaw tightened. "She's claiming them."

Faye's breath hitched.

The Empress wasn't just watching.

She was here.

Not in body—but in power.

She was taking the dead for herself.

And then the hunters—no, the cursed—turned toward them.

And attacked.

---

Faye barely had time to react before one of the reanimated hunters lunged for her, his frost-covered armor cracking as he moved. His blade came down in a savage arc—

She dodged, rolling aside just as the strike shattered the stone where she had been standing.

Lyra was already moving, twin daggers flashing. She plunged one into the throat of a cursed soldier—only for him to keep moving, unfazed by the steel in his flesh.

"They don't die!" Lyra snarled, yanking her blade free, flipping backward just as the soldier swung wildly at her.

Kael was faster. His blade slashed across the cursed hunter's neck in one swift motion, severing his head clean from his body. The corpse collapsed—but the darkness still writhed beneath its skin.

Faye's pulse thundered.

They weren't just risen.

They were bound.

Talis roared, unleashing a torrent of frost toward a cluster of the cursed. The ice consumed them, locking them in a frozen tomb—

But they kept moving, even through the ice.

"They're not alive," Riven shouted, blocking a strike aimed for Lyra's back. "Frost won't stop them."

Faye clenched her jaw. Her magic was still surging, but if frost wouldn't end them—

Then she needed something stronger.

She turned, planting her feet. The cold inside her veins coiled, but she pushed deeper—beyond ice, beyond frost.

The power that had awoken in her bones during the fight against the Empress—it was still there, waiting.

She reached for it.

And let go.

The air around her fractured.

A blast of absolute, soul-crushing cold erupted from her, but this was no mere ice storm.

It was something older. Something ancient.

The cursed froze—not just their bodies, but everything inside them.

Magic. Life. The bond to the Empress herself.

The first soldier let out a strangled gasp as his form cracked—

And then—

He shattered.

Not into ice.

Into nothing.

The others followed, their darkened bodies collapsing as their bonds broke—as if they had never existed at all.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Faye exhaled, her vision blurring for a moment. Her limbs ached, her breath uneven.

This power—it wasn't normal.

It wasn't just frost.

It was annihilation.

She shuddered.

And in the distance—

A single whisper carried through the night.

Low. Amused.

"So, the little Frostborn has learned a new trick."

The Empress's voice.

Faye's blood ran cold.

The fight wasn't over.

It had just begun.