“With blood red eyes; grey, obsidian black, or even blueish skin. One might easily mistake these pointy eared creatures as undead elves or even vampires. But in truth, as far back as the Myndiri domination of Cyndralia. One could find scattered reports about this subspecies of elf that has long since become the stuff of legends. For they existed during Myndiri rule but were cast out so brutally from Arneathian society for some heinous crime committed by their species that they joined the dwellers of stone in their caverns and underground. However, ever since the First Dark Tide and the Echo War that followed, contact with any sizeable colony has remained impossible. Now, only a handful still roam alongside the dwarven colonies, even fewer still in the world under the sun. So few that many simply think them specters or a relic of a long forgotten past, or just some outlying variant of elvenkind. Yet I believe they still exist. That their species still thrives in forgotten corners of the underground, past the claws of the inferno demons, deep beyond even where my brethren are willing to explore. There, they wait, deep within the lands where the frozen tempest roams. And there, I will find them.‘”

- Narlok Uthmender, Dwarven Explorer and Archivist, “The Disappearance of Clan Lord Cairnheart: Maddened Words in his Final Days”

Something sticky and charcoal-like wafted through the airs, carried forth by the hissing winter winds. Amorphous shadows lumbered between the rotted grooves of burnt down houses, their forms covered by the ashes scattered in the snowy winds. Bones with flesh still clinging on to life lay strewn across the ground almost as numerous as the bodies not yet burnt or eaten. Emaciated humanoid creatures hunched over on all fours with protruding spines and blood dripping from their elongated bony bodies feasted on the dead like carrion to a feast. Their animalistic growls fighting against the frigid night that loomed over the land, their cries a warning against those who would trespass the domain of the dead. Whoever this village once belonged to, they were there no longer.

Behind the scenes of carnage lay a solitary building still standing, the structure itself caving in on itself, but the flickers of candle light still shone through its darkened halls. Around it a menagerie of grotesque little creatures scampered around, the building’s precious few inhabitants walled in by the army of creatures and a ring of fire surrounding it. Like a beacon in the night, the blaze reflected in the blood red eyes of the creatures, their feverish desire for prey reaching a frenzy as the soft crunch of snow echoed loudly into the night amidst the incandescent blaze. One sinewy giant dripped blood across the snow from its skinned form, the muscles bulging with putrid green bile within them. It roared a viscous roar only to face the news entrant onto the feeding fields. The leader of the horde paused, it roared once more and poised itself to attack, submitting itself to the newcomer and her entourage.

Pyra wore a scowl across her face, the macabre display interesting her far less than the survivors currently holed up in the building. Behind her, a company of tainted paladins protected her flanks in their misshapen blackened wargear, between them a half dead peasant girl, her flesh almost as cold as the winter winds. She was alive though, if barely. But, that was all that was required of her.

Pyra snarled at the pathetic sight behind her and gestured for one of the paladins to move forward. The armoured figure’s boots letting out ominous thuds against the streets below the snow. His every step heralded death and the creatures scampered away from his path, watching hungrily from the sidelines for his next move. The paladin stood in front of the fire and raised his sword, the blade crackling with tormented energy as it slammed down onto the snowy ground below. A trail of sickly purple snaked forward and pierced the flame, the fire parting way for the darkness and creating a small opening between the wall of fire. The demented creatures howled at the sudden explosion of arcane energy, their covetous beady eyes buldging in excitement at the prospect of fresh prey.

Screams echoed from within, panic at the sudden loss of their last protective barrier. Pyra frowned, the sudden eruption of noise all around her proved more irritating than expected. With a wave of her hand, the paladins formed a perimeter around the opening and awaited their mistresses' approach. Pyra beckoned for the peasant girl to follow and hobbled forward, a growl escaping her own lips at being reminded of her current forms lack of combat prowess. She turned her attention to the door to the building and dipped her head slightly, the lead paladin pulling his blade bak out of the ground and facing it towards the door.

“Panshach Sokyur!” The paladin uttered in a forgotten language.

Dark energies swirled around his blade and shot forward like a lance. The door exploded into a million splinters and Pyra found herself staring down a dozen odd cowering humans. Two particularly brave ones responded by bursting forth with militia spears in hand. In less than a second, the paladin reacted and deftly dodged their spears before he cleaved through both of them in one slash. The two militiamen gurgled their last and collapsed, bloodying the snow below and quickly removed by flanking paladins, their bodies thrown beyond the fire and to the hungry creatures. More panicked cries came from within the building and Pyra scowled, looking at the paladin and gesturing for him to follow him.

Assisted by another paladin, Pyra and the lead paladin strode into the building, the remaining villagers brandishing what few makeshift weapons they had left. Pyra watched with amusement as the villagers trembled where they stood, their fear keeping them still and unable to act even as Pyra just stood in front of them. Her eyes rolled in annoyance and she ordered the two paladins to stand on her flanks, the two taking their positions menacingly. Cowed by the imposing knights, the villagers fearfully looked to Pyra, the sole humanlike face in the crowd until the peasant girl inched forward.

“By the Gods…” An elderly man whispered.

“Why us…” Someone else whimpered.

Pyra sighed, annoyed that there was still a sense of resistance within the villagers.

“Excuse… me.” She rasped, the foreign tongue sounding bizarre in her mouth even if her host often used it.

“It speaks!”

“The monster!”

“Please! Spare us!”

“You’ll never take us alive! Fiend!”

The villagers yelled.

Pyra rolled her eyes and looked towards the paladin, tempted to order the armoured knight to simply cleanse the rabble. She could feel something within her fighting back against the instinct and just growled. I wasn’t going to do it without getting what I needed first. Though still rebellious, her host’s spirit at least relented somewhat, giving Pyra the room she needed.

“Excuse me.” Pyra snarled, raising a hand to make the paladins raise their blades in line with her words, “Can I have some quiet!”

“Go meet the hells Demon bitch!” A burly farmer yelled, leaping over a tavern counter and throwing miscellaneous objects at the paladins before charging her.

Frustrated, she simply nodded and the paladins sprung into action. Without hesitation, the first paladin cut through the man’s face, bisecting his head through his eyes and sending his body tumbling down, gray matter spilling out onto the floor. The other paladin plowed forward and demolished nearby bar tables, rushing directly against two pitch forks and battering them aside before cutting into the woman and teen wielding them. The two slumping down to the ground and writhing in pain as the paladin returned to his position. Pyra herself just held her position, looking increasingly annoyed and casting a quick glance at the trembling peasant girl behind her. Pitiful.

“Are you quite-” Pyra began.

“Arvin! Stasa! Monsters! Kill them!” Another person yelled, “Avenge Holsiov!”

“For Holsiov!” Someone else screeched.

Two more villagers charged them and this time Pyra didn’t even need to order the paladin. One gauntlet crushed the man’s face, his skull caving in and shattering under the blow, splattering his brains over his comrade. The girl seemed to regret her actions but it was too late, the paladin’s sword penetrated through her breasts and the girl collapsed in but one blow.

Only five remained now, the old man, a man, a woman and two children. A family, perhaps. The old man held a rusty looking sword in his hand whilst the man stood in front of his family, fearfully, but trying to protect them nonetheless. How quaint.

“What do you want, demon?” The old man growled.

Pyra arched an eyebrow, though she somehow doubted that anyone could see her host’s expression behind the mask.

“Passage. Passage across the mountains.”

The old man looked at her incredulously before bursting out with laughter. “Across the mountains?! A fine jest! That why you killed all of us?”

“That is not my doing.” Pyra huffed, “Those minions outside have no relation to me.”

“And why would that matter to me? Huh? My wife? My children? You’ve killed them all!” He roared and charged.

For an old man he was agile, his blade managing to sneak between a gap in the paladin’s armour. It would have been a good hit, if not for the paladin’s twisted form simply absorbing the strike. Before the shock at his failure could even process, the offended paladin clamped both his hands around the old man’s face and squeezed. The old man screamed in pain for all of a second before his fragile skull collapsed under the paladin’s gauntlets, the blooded trail raining down from his gauntlets nothing more than a pulpy red mess.

“Mercy…” The remaining woman whispered, her body futilely shielding her children.

“I was told there was a mountain pass nearby. And that they were those of a more discreet variety.” Pyra stated coldly.

The woman looked to the man who tepidly nodded. “Well…” He began, looking to his possible colleague for assistance only to remember that the old man’s head had just been squished to a pulp. “Uh… ummm… well… yeah… y-yeah?”

“Do you know a way?”

‘Y-yeah.”

“Then take us to it.”

“W-wha? But in the snow… in these conditions…”

“My people will handle that.”

“A-alright. Yes of course! B-but spare my family please!” He pleaded.

Pyra rolled her eyes once again, tired of the same song and dance from desperate villagers or tribals whenever her motley crew approached. She then felt another tug of resistance from within her and scowled, now far more tempted in simply slaying them and being done with it. This time however, the threat did not quell discontent. Fine.

“Very well. We move at once.” Pyra gestured with a dissatisfied huff.

“Huh… at once? But they can’t join us! They’d die!”

“As surely as my sister’s errant mutants will. But your loss.” Pyra pointed at him.

“W-wait wait. No, no-” The man protested before a paladin simply heaved him over the shoulder.

In a panic, his family followed close behind, exchanging terrified glances at each other and occasionally at the peasant girl.

The posse emerged out of the bloodied house and into the frigid snow. The contingent of paladins guarding the outside saluted sharply, Pyra responded however much she could with a crutch and one leg. With nothing but a nod, the lead paladin slammed his sword into the ground beside the fire, and with a firm twist, dark energy crackled forth. In a few seconds, the flames surrounding the tavern building died down, the creatures nearby letting out guttural roars in acknowledgement, barreling headfirst to mop up what’s left of the inhabitants.

The paladins kept the group moving, corralling the new human additions near the back of the pack. Watching them shiver in equal parts terror and cold, Pyra managed to put on a small grin. The plan was proceeding much faster than she had anticipated and far smoother than she would’ve guessed; especially since now they held the prime hostages to force their new guide along.

Vengeance is an addictive drug, one that can be easily relied upon to bring clarity to her addled mind. Eventually however, like everything, time took its toll. The memories, reasons, and purpose of such a cause faded into obscurity, a terrible memory to be sure, but one that she had long moved past. Then came tides of chaos, the centuries spent wreaking havoc on those wretched descendants of those that had taken from her, everything. Yet, that too proved unfulfilling. Though she had spent the time mastering dark magicks, she had also grown tired of the purposeless war that she waged. Every victory felt hollow, and every battle was meaningless. Whichever way she looked at it, she had won. The traitors were dead, the Myndiri all but extinct. And between them, she had survived. But no one was there to celebrate it. No one cared, not even Luna.

But she had one now, a clear goal, a path that she felt almost eager to tread. For there was one thing that she had been denied, violated on the pathway to. A crown, a throne, a people. As the fates would have it, after the centuries of waiting, a broken little morsel was delivered before her. Another princess, one exiled, forgotten and left behind, awaited her judgment, having been brought to her by her paladins and their auxiliaries before willingly submitting herself to Pyra. A bargain was then sealed between the two. Pyra would cure the fallen princess’s peasant lover. In return, a kingdom awaited her. A divided land, waiting to be healed, to be brought under a guiding hand. A land awaiting salvation from the throes of war. Yes, that will do quite nicely.

Surrounded by the bloodied gnashing of teeth on flesh as the remains of the town crumbled around her. She led the group forward, onward to her destiny. Pyra looked up to the east at a peak shrouded by mist and grinned, I’ll make all of you see your mistake for rebuffing me. The only way to conqueror our history is to forge a new one, through violence or otherwise. She smirked. To simply sequester themselves in the dark, spreading plagued and decrepit beasts… pah, fools. What do they even hope to accomplish?

Her blade caught an abomination in the neck, the creature squealing in pain before she pushed a little further and cut off its head completely, sending sinew and flesh flying all around. The headless body writhed a few more seconds, its claw like hands reaching out for one last shot at revenge before it convulsed and collapsed, its tainted blood putrefying the pure white snow. Besides her, the honor guard and templars dispatched what few creatures still remained in the husk of a town. Mila scowled, we were too late. Sensing that they had cleared most of the creatures in the vicinity, she gestured for her troops to search the area for clues.

Her eyes ran themselves over the sight of the destroyed town once more. The charred husks of people were dotted all over the place, but none having formed any militia formations or dying in a pile. She frowned, it meant that most had likely been caught off guard when death came visiting this small Ingramarian village, just another part of her homeland reduced to a desolate waste. Like before as well, she sensed that this wasn’t just a monster attack, it was an orchestrated one judging from the faint traces of dark magic that she could sense. She didn’t like it, all of it felt far too familiar. Uneasy, she cocked her head forward and two templar scouts pushed forward, the rest of the squadron following close behind.

Karzuld grunted out loud and tapped his small fang, pointing towards a building on the far edge of town. Brushkol and a templar lieutenant turned to her, Mila responding with a firm nod. The two pushed forward towards Karzuld and secured the exterior of the building, the two templar scouts following soon after and making entry.

“Cold. Bad Air.” Marduk the shieldbearer growled.

“Mmm. Something foul lingers here.” Mila replied.

“Yes. Foul.”

The orc gripped his shield a little tighter, his eyes focused on their surroundings.

Four templars waited with them and took up formation outside the house. The group held their breath anxiously as they waited for the scouts to return. After what seemed like an eternity, the two scouts pushed the door back open, their shoulders shrugging in indifference.

“Nothing here, ma’am.” One reported.

“Fuck.” Mila cursed, “Any clues or signs of life?”

The scouts looked at each other and gestured at the interior of the door. “Heavy boot prints. Doesn’t look like what a villager would have.”

“Certainly ain’t no fur boot leaving those marks.” The other scout agreed.

Mila looked to Brushkol and Karzuld, the two orcs discussing something with the templar lieutenant before turning to her.

“Human!” Brushkol waved.

“Yeah?” Mila strode over.

“We have come to a conclusion, your tin man and us.” He gestured at the templar who rolled his eyes.

“What? That they’re headed south beyond the mountains?” Mila nonchalantly quipped.

“Indeed.” The orc nodded.

“What the orc is trying to say is, that we have a good idea which paths they might be taking.” Lieutenant Kraster added.

“Oh? Do share.”

“The mountains!” Brushkol’s voice boomed as he jumped back in, “There are many small villagers between here and the edge of the mountains.”

“Things like taverns, farmsteads, outposts or ranger camps. We can just head towards any known ones and ask around. If anything, they might know of a smuggling path or two that takes us down the Frostwinds.”

“Or if that can’t happen. We follow the trail of destruction until we know where they went. Like how we traced Warchief Eskul’s movements.” Brushkol’s expression dimmed as he shared a look with the other orcs. The others out letting out their own disapproving grunts.

“I could’ve figured that out myself.” Mila scowled, “It was either that or going east, and I doubt they’re with the demon hordes. Still, at least we have a general idea of what they’re up to. ”

“Indeed ma’am.” Kraster agreed.

Mila sighed, her scowl now turned towards the distant peaks of the mountains. The Frostwinds were the sentinels that defended the civilised folk of the south from the darkness beyond the north. Yet, it was also them that separated her people from the rest of the continent, forging hardy and resilient folk, sure. But, also meaning that should the darkness ever spill into her lands, there was little the people could do but rely on themselves. And with the major passes through the mountain blocked by the inquisition and its allies, the situation was bleak.

For Mila herself though, she had let Annalise get away. But it was also because of her wit and drive that saw the effective corner of the plague and finding the unexpected inquisitorial ally in Brushkol’s rebellious tribe. Thus, as both penance for failure and reward for her creative thinking, Lord Inquisitor von Krantz gave her a temporary promotion to the rank of inquisitor with the goal of hunting down Annalise. It was a grim task but one that she accepted without much complaints, for she would rather the ranger’s suffering be ended by a familiar face than some twice cursed demon. The assignment also served as her final test during her apprenticeship, to see if she could truly utilize the inquisition’s resources to lead a hunt of her own.

Her face scrunched into a scowl and she turned her attention to the peaks of the Frostwinds, the mountains that now kept her people chained within the path of the demonic hordes. The land being ravaged by a dark host sweeping into from beyond the northern steppe, burning everything in their path as they swept east. Now, there was whoever controlled Annalise, this cult plowing through villages in their own way, leaving a separate trail of destruction in their wake. Yet, Mila had noticed something odd, more so in this stray village than the ones they’d found previously. It seemed far more tactical; the destruction wanton, but a greater goal seemed to have been achieved given the one building left standing. She frowned, that’s not good.

She shook off her doubts and raised a hand, gathering the attention of the assembled warriors. “We need to head south, and fast. Gather your bearings, prep your gear, eat what you need to. We move out in five minutes.” She barked her orders.

A wave of silent nods responded and she nodded back. What a fucking shitshow.