[Chapter 1] Simon - Reaching Earth's End

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The man crossed the frozen landscape, appreciating the isolation. Nothing could be seen in any direction except white. This was the third ‘night’ since his departure from the Black Citadel, but at this time of year the sun didn’t rise, so the measurement was meaningless.

He was dressed in black leather with a silk cloak. Ice coated his short brown hair. To an observer, he might seem unprepared for his surroundings.

A smug smile crept on his lips. It’s simplest not to fight the cold. He’d internally lowered water’s freezing point and allowed his temperature to drop. Of course, his body had shut down, but this didn’t matter. It wasn’t his muscles which propelled him onward. Manipulating corpses is what my profession is famous for.

By surrendering to the elements, he could enjoy this journey. People don’t realize how much noise their bodies make. With breath and pulse gone, he heard the crunching below his boots. Around him Katabatic winds howled softly, sweeping frozen puffs.

One of the deadest places on Enera, he mused. He had the ability to sense life. While convenient, it often left him drowning in the racket. This stillness was a refreshing change of pace.

He looked to the heavens. Magnificent. Billions of lights twinkled in the darkness. In this icy desert, the dying embers of paradise showed their full splendor. Nowhere are they as clear. His eyes wandered to the dancing southern lights dividing the starry sea. They resembled trails of smoke illuminated by a bright, yet unsteady green light.

No trace of man here… This let him escape the disgust he harbored, deep at heart. It’s the blissful ignorance which gets under my skin. Around Enera, good people lived fulfilling lives, not knowing or caring about the misery existing far away. It’s not something I can do. He’d witnessed horrible injustices, some centuries old, which were never redressed. No matter the happiness around, this gnawed at him. Wrongs must be righted.

The distaste was self-inflicted. For four hundred years, he’d hunted a madman, seeing the worse of humanity in his wake. Even this trip had everything to do with that monster.

He scowled. No, I’ll not think of him now. However, resistance was useless. The familiar scene flooded his mind as countless times before.

It was his oldest memory, worn and faded. He was outside, and, his family was impaled around him by golden spears. He too was pinned against the walls, arms and legs pierced. While screams resounded in the background, he cried, begging them not to leave, yet one by one they stop moving. The last was his oldest brother. He couldn’t recall any of their faces. It can’t be helped. He’d been a child. Still, the loss hurt.

He’d never forget what happened next. On the adjacent house, the young man responsible for the carnage appeared. Beautiful, with short blond hair, he smiled peacefully surveying his work. Then their eyes met, and the angelic face twisted in laughter. This wasn’t the cheap cackling of a petty villain. It was a genuine, out of control hilarity, as if he’d heard the funniest of jokes. He leaned on his golden spear to keep upright and appeared to be having trouble breathing. Finally, it was too much, and he collapsed. As his young self lost consciousness, the man still lay on the roof convulsing madly.

Absurd. His teeth grinded. Ending this absurdity was his driving purpose. It’s why I trek the arctic. Irritated, he focused ahead, determined to clear his thoughts. If he let old grudges dominate him, this place’s beauty would be wasted.

He squinted at the distant objects coming into view. Ice Pillars. They were ten feet thick and forty high, spaced out fifteen apart. My destination lies beyond.

Dark spots were scattered on the frozen monuments. Soon he drew close enough to determine what they were. Corpses, remains of trespassers. There were hundreds. The message is clear. If even one person was frightened off, then it’d be a life saved.

It’s likely a pointless effort. Ahead, sealed under ice, lay secrets more valuable than all the gold in the world. Lost knowledge capable of granting military supremacy and resurrecting loved ones. No warning, regardless how morbid, would dissuaded those seeking them. Especially if they made it this far. The pillars would grow more crowded.

Some bodies were only half buried. While the entombed portions were intact, the outer portions were degraded to varying degrees, many reduced to bones. Some are ‘fresh’, and others old. Those half-skeletons swaying in the wind made for a gruesome spectacle.

It must’ve taken centuries to reduce them to that state. In moderate climates, a body would decompose in years, if not months. Here though, rot and decay were impossible.

As he pondered the rate of skeletonization in subzero environments, he realized he was climbing a slope. Confused, his face soon lit with understanding. A couple of inches of snow fell on these plains each year, endlessly accumulating. Anything left on the surface would soon be swallowed by the shifting icepack. For someone hoping to use corpses as deterrents, this presented a problem. Those pillars had been the solution. They must extend to the bedrock. With their support, bodies which would have quickly disappeared were anchored for eternity. They also acted as a damn, which was why the ground was higher on the other side.

With a last glance, the man plowed past. He’d entered Earth’s End, the territory of Astra Skyfell, one of the seven heroes.

Heroes… That word is bandied about too much. Many he’d assisted over the years heralded him as a savior, and it’d always made him uncomfortable. However there’s no issue in this case. Few deserved the title, but Astra was one who did.

Two thousand years ago, a villain named Sola set out to destroy the world, instigating of a period of tragedy known as the Dark Age. As disaster spread, half of civilization was lost. Sola’s armies, an endless horde of undead, chimeras, and worse, threaten to wipe out the remainder. It was the seven who’d rallied mankind and turned the tide. Even when Sola unleashed an apocalyptic spell, shattering the planet’s crust into a million pieces, they’d prevailed.

Of those surviving, Astra was the only one he’d never met. He sensed in her a kindred soul. As a veteran of that time, she undoubtedly understood the world’s absurdity, perhaps better than himself. Her own brother was one of those sacrificed. Yet, despite this injustice, she was here guarding the legacy Sola left behind. Millennia of solitude which would never be rewarded. Then those ice pillars… He was familiar with completing thankless, laborious undertakings simply because it was right. She probably loves this sky.

As constellations and auroras warred for ascendancy, he spotted silhouettes on the horizon, mounds spaced half a mile apart. Dragons made of ice. These weren’t living creatures, but artificial constructs. Golems in the shape of winged lizards. They served as autonomous weapons in the first line of defense. Each must’ve taken years. Fashioning such permanent enchantments was arduous. Few make it past this point.

Once within shouting distance, the nearest sprung to life. Uncurling and stretching its wings, it ambled lazily forwards, the ground buckling with each step. These sentries were why he’d chosen to walk. Anything airborne would be shot from the sky by their breath. He stopped and withdrew his token of safe passage, grimacing. A miniature teddy bear with pink ribbons… He silently cursed Lily Morgana, the one who’d sent him.

She was the youngest of the heroes, a child blessed with enormous talent. Earning the title ‘Living Artillery’, she’d been instrumental in the struggle. Sadly, when it was over, she’d been left trapped in the body of a twelve year old. In the centuries since, she’d exhausted every conceivable method to age herself. As they all failed, a bitterness had taken hold. She now vented her frustration through petty acts. The token in his hand could’ve been anything, but Lily knew his aesthetics were simple, functional, and black. I’m literally traveling to Earth’s End and she still does this… Shaking his head, he made his offering.

The dragon quickly lost interest, returning to its resting spot. They’re pale imitations. He remembered when the White Dragon had appeared and the path it’d scorched. Its mere presence had been crushing. He felt nothing of that from this reproduction, though they were somewhat imposing. An imitation of an unstoppable monster yet deserves respect.

Five days ago, another of the heroes, Arther Bard, had been murdered on the Isle of Dreams. His death had thrown Enera into chaos and left a void needing filling. He’d been sent to bring Astra back. None expected him to succeed. In the eons since the Fracturing, Astra had made only a handful of short trips, rebuffing all pleas to depart permanently. Her mind was immutable once set. Even Lily anticipates failure.

His lips twisted upwards. He’d succeed where others failed. The situation had changed with Arther’s passing, and persuading Astra might be simpler than many realized. If not, then I’ll have traveled a long way for nothing. The grin faded. Once I reach the ice Fortress, we’ll see whether I’m on a fool’s errand.

His surroundings turned an eerie green. The auroras had won the battle, bathing the landscape in their pale light. A silhouette appeared on the lime-tinted horizon. As he eyed this goal, a figure emerged and soared above. An Ice Phoenix… Its wings pulsated vivid blue leaving diamond dust in its wake. True to its name, it was engulfed in flames. Frost fire, a manifestation of the rawest ice magic. He felt it this time, an intimidating aura. That apparition was dangerous, even to him. Circling once, the frozen firebird flew back, disappearing into the celestial fog. Its visit meant Astra would be there to greet him. Not much further.

The fortress’s massiveness was hard to describe. Its outer walls were a mile wide. Inside, the equivalent of a dozen large castles had been wedged together. It stood in stark contrast to the barren expanse. Largeness is a luxury afforded by vast open space.

In the surrounding plains lay a dormant army. Smaller in stature, these golems were more varied. Without a unifying theme, there were giant wolves, griffins, kneeling suits of armors, coiled creatures resembling hydras… Some were objects of wonder, others nightmarish atrocities. They numbered in the tens of thousands.

He weaved his way through. These ice sculptures, basking in this emerald glow, make for a surreal sight… He spotted a woman atop the stairs to the entrance. Astra Skyfell. His eyes traveled up to the silhouettes lining the ramparts. Gargoyles. His gaze paused over an outcropping. Those don’t belong here. He smirked.

His attention returned to this place’s master. She had a bright silver ponytail and wore white leather on which sat frozen armor. The Isle’s statues don’t do her justice. The immortal’s arms were crossed, impatience plain on her face. Not thrilled to see me. Reaching the steps, he compelled his lungs to draw breath and brought out the bear.

“My name is Simon Black. Lily sent me.” He said, stopping before her.

Astra glanced at the token and nodded with no change in expression. They stood, facing off. She won’t invite me in? Perhaps the recluse was hoping to hear his say and send him off right here. That’s not happening.

“I’ve important news from the Isle of Dreams, but, before that…” He pointed upwards. “There are children spying on us.”