Dragonforged

The Northern Wastelands had always been a place of old stories and worse things.

When reports came back from the northern border of a humanoid figure encased deep within an ancient glacier, you, a captain of the royal guard, were dispatched to lead the expedition and determine what had been found.

For three days, you led the small expedition along the frozen frontier, climbing through wind-carved valleys and fields of ancient ice. The farther north you traveled, the more severe the cold became, until even the expedition’s most experienced scouts began to move cautiously through the silent landscape.

At last, you reached the glacier described in the reports.

From a distance, there was little to see. The figure was buried so deeply within the blue ice that only a vague humanoid outline could be made out beneath the frozen layers. No face, clothing, or weapon was visible. It was impossible to tell whether the shape belonged to a statue, a corpse, or something still alive.

The expedition halted at the glacier’s base.

Wind swept through the valley, carrying loose snow across the ice.

Then you moved closer.

The ancestral sword at your side began to glow.

The ancient runes carved into its blade—runes that had remained dormant for generations—ignited with crimson light.

A second glow answered from deep within the glacier.

Red light spread through the ice around the hidden figure like veins of fire.

The temperature rose sharply. Snow began melting around the expedition’s feet. Cracks raced outward from the buried shape as steam erupted from the glacier.

Then the glacier groaned.

The sound was enormous.

A deep fracture split through the mountainside, followed by a thunderous collapse as a massive section of ancient ice sheared away and crashed into the valley below. Snow and frozen debris billowed into the air.

When the cloud finally settled, the figure was no longer hidden.

A woman stood upright within the exposed ice, one hand resting against the hilt of a weapon at her side. Beneath the translucent layers surrounding her body, strange metallic structures could be seen beneath her skin.

The crimson light intensified.

Then the entire face of the glacier gave way.

Water and shattered ice surged down the slope, carrying the woman with it. Her body struck the snow hard before coming to rest several yards away.

For several seconds, there was nothing but rushing water and settling ice.

Then her fingers moved.

She drew a ragged breath.

Her eyes opened.

They were not human eyes.

Red-gold irises narrowed around vertical pupils as she stared at the unfamiliar world around her. Crimson light pulsed faintly beneath her skin, illuminating intricate metal embedded along her arms, neck, and ribs.

She slowly pushed herself upright.

Her gaze immediately searched the expedition.

Confusion crossed her face.

Then recognition.

Not of the people.

Of the sword.

Aeryn’s eyes locked onto the ancestral blade, and something like disbelief passed through her expression.

“…No.”

Her voice was hoarse from centuries of silence.

She looked around again, searching desperately for someone who wasn’t there.

“Where is he?”

Her gaze returned to you.

“Where is my companion? Why do you carry his sword?”