Elias stood before the gate for a moment longer than necessary.
The sound from within had already faded, yet its presence lingered in the air. The memory of that low, unnatural growl pressed at the back of his mind, making his chest tighten. He hesitated, as if some instinct was warning him to turn back.
The castle loomed above him. Its scale pressed down on his senses in a way that made the rest of the wasteland feel almost insignificant by comparison.
He swallowed, steadying himself.
"…It's just a sound," he muttered under his breath, though he didn't quite believe in it himself.
Taking what little courage he could gather, he stepped forward.
The massive gate did not resist. It stood half-open, as though something had passed through it long ago and never bothered to close it behind. The iron surface was thick with frost and its edges fused with the cold. Yet the gap remained wide enough for him to slip through.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he felt a change in the air, in the surrounding.
Everything around him became slightly muffled, as though the world had been wrapped in something.
A faint pulse flickered at the edge of his awareness.
[ Warning: Ambient Dissonance is high. ]
The silence inside the castle felt different from the silence outside. It was heavier, and enclosed, as though sound itself had nowhere to escape.
The courtyard stretched out before him.
It was vast. Stone tiles lay beneath his feet in a grid-like pattern, though time and frost had fractured many of them. The walls surrounding the courtyard rose high on all sides, enclosing the space completely. Their surfaces were layered with ice that had formed over years, perhaps even centuries.
Nothing moved.
No wind reached this place.
Elias walked forward slowly.
His footsteps echoed faintly against the stone.
His gaze shifted across the courtyard until something broke the uniform stillness. A structure in the distance.
Small compared to everything else.
It was a shed.
Elias adjusted his pace, heading towards it.
As he approached, the shape resolved into something more specific.
A stable. And beside it, a narrow building constructed from darker wood and reinforced with metal bands. The door hung slightly ajar.
He reached the stable first.
The interior was lined with stalls, each separated by wooden partitions that had long since frozen into rigid stillness. The air inside carried the faint, stale scent of hay, though the hay itself had hardened into brittle, lifeless clumps that crumbled at the slightest touch.
Above each stall, names had been carved into the wood.
Most were obscured.
Frost had crept over them, filling the grooves and blurring the letters until they became illegible.
Elias leaned closer to one.
Nothing.
Another. Barely visible.
Then, one stood out.
Calen.
The letters were still clear enough to read, untouched by whatever had erased the others.
Elias stared at it for a moment, and then stepped back.
That's when he saw it – the body of a horse.
It was motionless. Dead.
Its body had stiffened into the cold. Limbs were locked in place, but its head…
Elias froze.
It sagged In places it shouldn't. Flesh slipped, skin stretched thin and split in wet seams that revealed something pulsing underneath.
Completely disfigured.
Not simply damaged or decayed, but twisted into something beyond recognition. The shape no longer resembled anything natural, as though whatever had happened to it had reshaped it entirely.
He felt a chill.
"…What the actual… fuck... even is this?"
He didn't step closer. He didn't want to.
The sight lingered in his mind longer than he wanted it to. Elias turned away quickly and moved towards the adjacent structure.
The armory door opened easily when he pushed it. Inside, the air felt denser.
Weapons lined the walls.
Swords, spears, shields and much more.
Axes with broad, chipped heads hung beside racks of shorter blades. A few bows rested beside the quivers of arrows arranged neatly beneath them. Polearms of varying lengths leaned in ordered clusters. Everything had its place, each type grouped with its own, arranged with precision.
Elias stepped inside slowly.
The floor beneath his feet bore dark streaks that cut across the stone. They had long since dried and darkened.
He did not need to ask what they were.
His gaze lifted to the walls.
Shields hung in ordered rows.
He did not count them but four had fallen to ground.
They lay on the ground near the far side of the room, cracked clean through their centers as though something had struck them from behind with overwhelming force.
Elias looked at them for a moment, then moved on.
He reached for a sword.
The metal was cold but intact. Its edge was still sharp despite the harsh frost. He tested its weight, shifting it in his hand.
Then he picked up another.
The second blade felt slightly heavier.
He held both. For a moment, he simply stood there before adjusting his grip and swinging one experimentally.
He shifted his stance and tried again, mimicking what he remembered of the gatekeeper's movements, though the scale was entirely different.
"…Not even close," he muttered.
He swung the blade once more, a little sharper this time.
"Still," he added quietly. "...better than nothing."
He found a sheath among the racks, fastening it across his back before sliding both blades into place.
His gaze dropped briefly to the dark streaks on the floor again.
Then he turned and left.
The courtyard greeted him with the same stillness as before.
Elias moved along the side of the castle, following the wall until the structure curved and opened toward the rear.
From there, the land revealed itself.
It was a forest. Endless.
The trees stretched far into the distance. Every branch was bare, every trunk pale and rigid. Their forms were twisted and skeletal beneath the layers of frost.
The stillness of the trees held movement within it.
Subtle.
Almost imperceptible.
As though the entire forest breathed slowly beneath the surface of its frozen state.
Elias narrowed his eyes slightly.
The frost clung to every surface like delicate glass, catching what little light remained and scattering it in faint, shimmering patterns. The emptiness held him, as if the forest itself was asking to be observed.
He couldn't look away.
For a moment, he simply stood there, caught in it.
Then, slowly, he blinked.
The feeling broke.
Elias exhaled, shifting his gaze away as he forced himself to step back from the edge.
"…I don't exactly like that."
He looked back up at the castle.
Near the very top, a window had been shattered. The edges of the opening were jagged and frost crept inward from the broken frame.
Too high to reach.
But ahead of him, closer to the ground was another window.
Elias approached it.
He crouched, picking up a shard of ice from the ground. The piece was jagged and sharp enough to serve the purpose.
He stood and threw the shard towards the window with all his might.
It struck the glass and shattered it.
The sound echoed faintly.
Elias paused for a moment.
"Well… here goes nothing."
And he climbed through.
He landed on stone. The impact echoed softly as he steadying himself, adjusting the weight of the swords on his back.
The space he had entered was smaller than the courtyard.
It was clearly a prep area, and through an open archway ahead, the kitchen revealed itself in full. Elias stepped forward, and the different was immediate. The room was grounded in function rather than display, and everything within it had been built for use rather than impression.
The ceiling was lower and its surfaces worn smooth from repeated contact. A large prep table stood at the center, its surface marked by years of work. Iron pots hung from the hooks, arranged in descending order.
The hearth along the far wall was large enough to serve the entire castle. Its grate still held the remnants of a log that had burned through completely.
Nothing had been disturbed.
On the prep table, a meal sat nearly complete.
Bowls of soup rested beside plates arranged for dinner. Steam had long since frozen in place. The surface of the broth had hardened into a thin, glassy layer.
Everything had been prepared. Everything had been ready
Near the edge of the table, almost hidden behind a cluster of utensils, a small glass vial lay on its side, its contents dark and unmoving.
Elias stood there, looking at the frozen meal. The stillness of the room pressed in around the small details.
He exhaled slowly.
Something here had ended without warning.
He turned away.
The corridor leading ahead narrowed slightly. The stone here was smoother. Frost clung to the edges of the walls in thin, creeping lines, tracing the seams between each block.
The next room he passed held shelves of linen. Folded and neat.
Garments hung along one side of the room. Each piece was spaced evenly and folded. The fabric had lost its color to the cold, fading into pale grey, yet the shapes remained distinct.
A dress stood out among them.
The sleeves were delicate, the bodice fitted, the skirt flowing in a way that would have moved with weight and grace. Even frozen and colorless, it carried an unmistakable elegance.
Beside it hung another set of clothes. Simpler in design, but no less deliberate.
A coat, tailored to a frame. Broad at the shoulders, fitted through the torso. Beneath it, a shirt and trousers, all arranged as though someone had just finished preparing them.
The care in the room lingered.
He did not enter. He kept walking.
Another room. Small.
A single chair remained, which had fallen down as if the one sitting had rushed out.
A table beside it. A candle reduced entirely to wax.
Elias paused only briefly before moving on.
A stairwell appeared along the corridor. It led upward.
The light from above was the same as everywhere else, dull and grey, offering no indication of what lay beyond.
He glanced up. Then looked away.
Not yet.
He continued forward.
The corridor stretched ahead.
Elias walked steadily, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. The air remained still, unmoving, yet there was a subtle pressure to it, something that pressed faintly against his skin.
He was building the shape of the place in his head. Ground floor first.
Just ahead, the corridor turned left.
Not far from the turn, he heard something. A step.
He stopped and listened.
The castle had been making small sounds since he'd broken the window. The distant settling of stone, the moan of the wind outside. He'd been cataloguing those too.
But now, they were gone.
Beyond the corner, he could see nothing. Nor could he hear anything. The light there was the same flat grey as everywhere else. No indication of anything at all except the cold and silence.
He stood there for a few seconds.
He was mere inches away from the corner when something crossed the light. A mass moved through the grey at the far end of what had to be the next room. There and gone. Huge. Unhurried.
He pressed his back against the wall. The sound had stopped.
Whatever had made it knew he was here.
The corner was a foot from his face. He was looking directly at the edge of the stone. His grip on the hilt tightened.
The cold touched the side of his neck.
Something on the other side of the wall was breathing, and it was close enough that he could feel it.