The snow fell like silent whispers from the heavens, covering the forest in a thick white veil. Rayyan tightened the fur-lined cloak around his shoulders, the bitter wind biting at any exposed skin. Beside him, Nael stumbled through the snow, smaller legs struggling, but Rayyan's steady hand always caught him before he could fall.
Zafir, trailing behind with a half-frozen grin, muttered, "If we don't find shelter soon, I'll become a walking ice sculpture."
Rayyan's breath formed small clouds as he spoke, "There's smoke ahead. A village, maybe."
Zafir squinted through the falling snow. "Or a trap. Either way, it's warmer than out here."
The three pressed on, boots crunching into the icy crust. As they pushed through the last line of trees, a village emerged — small, rugged, surrounded by tall sharpened stakes. The sign above the entrance creaked in the wind: Dahmar Village.
Villagers, wrapped in heavy furs, eyed them suspiciously as they approached. Some carried spears; others sharpened knives by open fires. This was no place for weakness.
At the gate, a burly man with a beard of ice approached them.
"You seek shelter?" he barked.
"We seek shelter, food, and work," Rayyan replied calmly, shielding Nael slightly behind him.
The man narrowed his eyes. "Then you fight. Outsiders prove themselves in the Pit. Win honor. Earn your place."
Without waiting for a response, he pointed towards a wooden arena built from old bones and frozen wood at the village's heart.
Zafir chuckled. "Figures. No free meals in places like this."
---
That night, they found refuge in a small, cold hut. The walls were thin, the wind howled through the cracks, but it was better than the biting wilderness.
Nael slept curled up tightly near the faint fire, a worn blanket covering him. Zafir leaned against the wall, already snoring softly.
Rayyan stared into the dying embers. Something inside him stirred — a strange flickering behind his vision.
His right eye, the Eye of Reflection, glowed faintly beneath the surface.
Slowly, Rayyan rose, pulling his cloak tight, and stepped outside into the silent, silver night.
The forest beyond the village shimmered under the moon's cold gaze. And there, between the twisted trees and drifting snow, Rayyan saw it:
A burning beast — a figure of flame and smoke, its form shifting, almost alive.
His heart pounded. Barak...?
But no — this one was different, smaller, but still pulsing with raw, ancient energy.
The beast turned its head slowly, as if acknowledging Rayyan's presence, then drifted deeper into the woods.
Without waking the others, Rayyan followed.
---
The snow crunched underfoot. Each breath was a battle against the freezing air.
Deeper in the woods, the world seemed to shift. Strange symbols carved into the trees. Ancient words half-buried in the ice.
The beast hovered ahead — and then, suddenly, vanished into smoke.
A deep growl broke the silence.
From the shadows, a Frost Wolf lunged — white as death, eyes glowing like frozen stars.
Rayyan drew his blade.
The fight was vicious — the wolf fast and furious. But Rayyan's Eye burned brighter, anticipating the wolf's moves, reading the flow of battle.
A sidestep here, a counter there — and finally, with a swift strike to the wolf's neck, it collapsed into the snow.
Rayyan stood, panting. Steam rose from his body in the freezing air.
Where the beast had disappeared, something lay in the snow — a fragment of charred armor, ancient and pulsing faintly with heat.
He knelt and picked it up carefully.
It felt... familiar. Like touching a memory he hadn't lived.
Rayyan wrapped the fragment in cloth and hid it inside his cloak.
He returned to the shelter without a sound.
---
The morning sun barely pierced the heavy clouds as the village stirred to life.
Rayyan, Nael, and Zafir stood before the Pit, facing the day's challenges.
Today, they would fight for honor, for supplies...
And unknowingly, step deeper into the mysteries that bound their fates together.
Above them, hidden among the frost-covered trees, watchful eyes observed their every move.
[End of Chapter 2]