“...And then I woke up, and decided to chuck my scabbards away, ‘cause they were dead weight now, plus the hilts with no blades. Yeah, that's pretty much it.”

  Tatsu's voice dissolved into the howls of the wind as the final words left his lips. He kept his eyes locked on the obsidian-dark, spine of the monolith, oblivious to the thick shelf of snow accumulating on his lap or the way the frost had begun to glaze his white shirt.

  He waited for a reaction— a gasp of awe, a question about his swords. Or even an applaud for his miraculous survival— but only the whistle of the gale answered him.

  He turned to the left, and his jaw dropped.

  Tenaro was still anchored in his cross-legged seat, his chin buried in his chest.

  His left elbow was propped on his knee, supporting a head that swayed with the cold wind. Pristine dots of snow had begun to nestle in his dark-brown hair like parasitic pearls.

  A soft, rhythmic whistle escaped his nose—a sound of deep, uninterrupted slumber.

  “Wha–!”

  Tatsu scrambled across the drifts on his hands and knees from where he sat, the frozen powder hissing beneath his palms. He reached out and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to Tenaro's cheek.

  “Ugh–what—?!”

  Tenaro's eyelids snapped open. In a blur of instinct, he rolled to one knee, arms raised in a combat-ready guard as his green eyes darted with rapid precision across his surroundings.

  He scanned for an ambush, oblivious to a fuming person in front of him. His posture deflated as he realized the “threat” was just Tatsu's glare.

  “Seriously? Sleeping while I'm giving an epic backstory?”

  Tenaro slumped back on his bottom and flexed his fingers, their numb feeling spreading across his hands.

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard everything.” he claimed, as he smoothed his wind-blown hair with fingers that felt stiff.

  “Your… uh, Ryoka and Kuryo, right?”

  The silence was heavy enough to crush a snowbank. Tatsu's eyes went flat, his mouth a thin line of disbelief as a fresh flurry of flakes pelted his cheeks.

  “I can hear while I sleep.” Tenaro added, his face being a mask of absolute, unearned confidence.

  Tatsu stood up, his joints popping like dry twigs.

  “That isn't even their names…”

  “Fine. You lost me at like… the part… where you… uh…” Tenaro stroke his smooth chin as if contemplating a very deep philosophical truth about life.

  “When you began to face those ice things. Yeah.” He pointed a finger at Tatsu with triumph.

  Tatsu's shoulders slumped, his entire posture seemed to lose their weight, “That was basically the beginning…”

  Tenaro shrugged, his ears and the tip of his nose turning a concerning shade of light red. He reached for the stone plateau, snatching his twin blades by the strip of linen that bound them together.

  He rose, stretching his stiff limbs until his joints let out a series of sharp, rhythmic cracks. Totally not tense from sleep.

  “It's getting cold now,” he stated simply, gesturing toward the looming, light-drinking structure.

  “Let's go into that thing.”

  “If you'd listened, you'd know that–”

  But Tenaro was already moving, his left hand carrying his bound steel and his right shoved deep into his pocket. He crunched through the snow with a singular, stubborn focus.

  “Wait! That thing is dangerous!” Tatsu snapped his head toward the lunatic's retreating form.

  Tenaro stopped.

  He turned his head just enough for his emerald gaze to find Tatsu's amber one. His hair whipped violently, but his expression stayed still—thoughtful.

  Then, without a word, he turned and continued his trek.

  Tatsu let out a long, steaming sigh and trudged after him. When he caught up to Tenaro's left side, his breath hitched.

  The ground vanished, and below them lay the jagged bowl that carved into the earth's crust, the huge building rising from its dark heart like a jagged tooth; near black at its base and turned dark grey towards the top.

  “This is one huge crater…” Tatsu whispered, his feet rooting to the frozen edge as he stared down at the abyss he had once climbed while fighting.

  “I can't believe I managed to climb outta this.”

  Tenaro's eyes flicked to him, his head moving but his brows climbing toward his hairline.

  “You what?”

  Tatsu looked at him like he was hopeless, then waved a hand dismissively, “Oh forget it.”

  Tenaro scratched the back of his head, his numb fingers fumbling against his scalp.

  *He must've mentioned it in his speech.* Tenaro thought as he rolled his neck, cracking out any tension that was left and took a step into the snow, the snow swallowing his leg until his calf. His brows raised, but began climbing down without hesitation. Tatsu stared after him but he sighed and followed behind.

  The descent into the crater's maw was a grueling exercise. The slope fell away at a deceptive angle. More gradual than the sheer drop Tenaro had envisioned, yet littered with jagged, hidden protrusions that lurked beneath the knee-deep powder.

  Every step was a gamble; the snow covered the shins, dragging at their calves like a freezing, white tide.

  Tenaro kept his center of gravity low, his knees bent in an agonizing crouch. His gaze was a laser, tracking the subtle shifts in the drifts to find the solid stone beneath.

  He carved a path behind his legs, his boots biting into the shale and ice with mechanical precision.

  “Wha–!”

  The sudden, frantic rasp of sliding fabric tore through the cavern's silence. Tenaro's head snapped to the left just as Tatsu's heels vanished into the air.

  Tatsu hit the slope hard on his back, his body becoming a sleigh of white linen and flailing limbs.

  He began to gain momentum, a human furrow carving a jagged scar through the pristine snow.

  “Tch!”

  Tenaro didn't think; his body simply reacted with the practiced violence of a survivor. He leaned forward, catching the linen binding of his twin swords between his teeth.

  The taste of snow-damped fabric flooded his mouth as the swords dangled, a heavy pendulum against his chest. He lunged to the side, his left arm shooting like a piston.

  His fingers clamped around the collar of Tatsu's shirt, the fabric punching and straining against his palm. The sudden jerk of Tatsu's weight nearly tore Tenaro from his anchor.

  His nerves screamed—a sharp, electric jolt of agony as the sub-zero temperature met the sudden strain of the catch.

  “Grr!”

  The grunt was muffled, choked by the cloth in his mouth. Tenaro slammed his right hand into the drift, stabilizing himself. The frost bit into his skin, a numbing, crystalline fire that turned his fingers into blocks of wood.

  He swayed, his balance teetering, before his boots finally bit deep enough into the underlying stone to hold

  *Damn, it hurts!*

  He hauled upward, his bicep knotting under the weight of sudden clothes. He dragged Tatsu toward him, forcing him into an upright position.

  Tatsu scrambled for purchase, his hands clawing at the snow as he rose to his knees, wobbling with the uncertainty of a toddler discovering its feet.

  Tenaro didn't let go. He kept his iron grip on the collar until he felt the tremor in Tatsu's legs settle into something resembling balance.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Only then did he release the fabric and spit the linen binding from his mouth, a spray of melted snow following it.

  “What the hell are you doing?!” Tenaro snapped. The words were sharp, jagged shards that cut through the whistling wind.

  Tatsu flinched, his shoulders toward his ears. He slapped the clinging frost from his white shirt, his movements jerky and embarrassed.

  “Sorry, sorry… I guess my foot slipped.” he muttered, his left hand drifting to the back of his neck to offer a sheepish grin that didn't reach his eyes.

  Tenaro remained silent, his green gaze dropping to Tatsu's pristine white boots.

  They were untouched by the dirt of their surroundings.

  *Are those things even meant for the earth?*

  Without a second word, Tenaro turned his back and resumed his calculated march down the slope, his boots finding the rhythm of the crater once more.

  Behind him, Tatsu stood for a heartbeat, staring at the deep, twin furrows of Tenaro's trail, before he began to follow—each step now a slow, exaggerated mimicry of Tenaro's caution.

  ***

  Tenaro's boots finally met the horizontal shelf of the crater floor, and he allowed a single, ragged exhale to escape his lips.

  *Finally.*

  The white cloud of his breath drifted past his eyes, a brief veil against the dimness.

  “Finally!”

  The shout shattered the silence like a stone through glass. Tatsu surged past Tenaro, his caution discarded as he scrambled down the final few paces of the slope.

  His boots skidded, kicking up a spray of white powder, before a sickening, crystalline ‘crack’ echoed through the basin. Tatsu lurched, his arms windmilling as he fought to anchor his weight.

  “Woah!”

  Tatsu snapped his gaze down, his brows raising. Tenaro crunched toward him, his own gaze dropping to the debris beneath Tatsu's white boots.

  A single, jagged finger protruded from the pile, its edges sharp enough to draw blood.

  “I just found a dead ice thing!” Tatsu chirped, looking over his shoulder with a restless, childlike energy. He nudged a pile of frost with his left boot.

  “The finger didn't break.”

  Tenaro stared at the remains, his face a mask of calm, though his mind raced.

  *They were actually made of ice?* He forced his eyes away from the shards and traced the vertical spine of the monolith building with his eyes. High above, a silver-rimmed archway sat flush against the crystalline stone.

  Tenaro narrowed his eyes, *Great.*

  “Damn, how we getting up there?” Tatsu interrupted his thoughts, his eyes wide as he stroked his chin with exaggerated gravity.

  “That's, what? Three storeys tall?”

  *He's right.* Tenaro thought, looking up at Tatsu and right back at the building, but he didn't answer.

  He scanned the floor, everywhere he looked, mounds of shattered sentinels lay like casualties of a forgotten war, some half-buried by the snow, some were mere glints of blue beneath the powder.

  A sudden, violent tremor seized Tenaro's right arm. He watched as his arm began to vibrate with a chill. He clenched his fist, trying to crush the shiver out of his muscles.

  “Cool…”

  Tenaro looked up to see Tatsu hoisting a frozen, decapitated hand into the dim light. Tatsu's eyes twinkled with a disturbing, infant-like curiosity. Tenaro fought the urge to join him, to inspect the strange anatomy of the creatures, but he checked the impulse.

  *Is he even cold anymore?*

  A shaky breath escaped Tenaro's nostrils, the vapor whipping away with the wind. His left fingers throbbed, still cramped from their white-knuckled grip on the sword-cloth.

  He stepped over a ribcage made of ice and approached the wall. Up close, the stone was a contradiction.

  Millions of tiny, interlocking crystals formed a granular, jagged terrain, yet the surface possessed a glossy, almost wet reflection. It was a vertical sea of frozen lint.

  Tenaro spat the cloth from his mouth and unwound the linen from his hilts. He knelt, placing one blade carefully in the snow, and stood with the other gripped in both hands.

  He widened his stance, his boots finding purchase on the stone floor beneath the frost, and hoisted the hilt over his left shoulder.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” Tatsu called out, now crouching over a severed thumb.

  Tenaro didn't waste his breath and bunched the muscles in his back and drove the point of the sword toward the unyielding stone.

  ‘Skree!’

  A violent, electric jolt hammered through the hilt, vibrating Tenaro's wrists into his forearms with concussive force. The stone shrieked—a high, dry wail of grinding crystal that made the marrow in his bones hum. His fingers turned ghostly white, his hands jumping in his grip.

  A plume of pulverised stone hissed upward, smelling of ancient stone. The blade had bitten barely an inch into the rock.

  “Aagh!”

  The stone refused to yield further, clamping down on the steel with a stubborn, ancient gravity. Tenaro pulled back, pain echoing through his chest and his teeth rattling.

  The cold made his muscles feel like brittle ceramic. He dropped the sword and shook his hands vigorously, his fingers tingling with a numb, stinging heat.

  “Damn…”

  “Let me try.”

  Tatsu was suddenly on his right, a shadow against half Tenaros’ face despite the dimness and the emerald thrum of the wall. He folded his torso and reached down for the fallen blade.

  “Let go!” Tenaro snapped, snatching the himt backa and forgot about his pain. He reset his stance and bared his teeth.

  Tatsu straightened.

  “You're seriously gonna break your wrists if you keep doing that.” His voice was steady, “Just trust me.”

  Tenaro ignored him and lunged again. The steel bounced off the rock with a dull clank, sending a fresh shockwave through his arms. The sword slipped from his numbing fingers.

  “Tch!”

  Before he could reclaim it, Tatsu scooped up the weapon and rolled his neck.

  He stepped forward with his right leg, anchoring his left foot behind him and turning it outward in a deep, grounded anchor.

  “Hey!”

  Tatsu raised a palm, his eyes never leaving the stone, “Just watch.”

  He sank into his hips, leaning his weight forward until he was almost parallel to the floor.

  He tucked the sword at his right hip, his right hand near the guard and his left near the pommel.

  He took a single, deep breath that seemed to pull the very cold into his lungs.

  “Ha!”

  He exploded forward.

  The lunge was a blur of white linen. The sword barely shrieked this time; it bit.

  The steel sank a full quarter of its length into the dark rock with a clean, muffled thud.

  Tenaro's jaw tightened as he stared at the buried steel, then at Tatsu, who stood up straight and flexed his fingers.

  “Wow, your swords are nice.” Tatsu said while stretching his fingers.

  *What. The. Hell.* Tenaro just stared at the sword, fists clenching.

  “Phew! The stone's harder than it looks, huh?” Tatsu turned to him, but Tenaro kept his expression deadpan, hiding the shock that threatened to break his composure.

  “So, why'd you wanna stab it anyway?” Tatsu asked.

  “To climb.” Tenaro replied shortly. He snatched up the second sword and tried to mimic Tatsu's deep, lunging stance.

  He exhaled, staring at a point of the wall, and drove the blade forward. The stone screamed again, rejecting him.

  “Argh!” Tenaro hissed as the electric shock rattled his spine.

  Tatsu gently took the sword from his hand and repeated the motion, burying the second blade a foot above the first.

  Tenaro watched in a simmering, quiet frustration.

  *Where'd he learn this?*

  “So… we just stab and pull right?” Tatsu glanced up the wall, giving Tenaro a sidelong gaze.

  “Yeah.” Tenaro sighed, his shoulders sagging as he tried to swallow his pride.

  Tatsu looked up at the silver archway, “But, how are we gonna climb with only two swords?”

  Tenaro cleared his throat, pushing past his irritation, “I have an idea. The stone has ridges that we can use for purchase.”

  “Oooh, it looks so smooth though.” Tatsu pressed a hand to the wall. “Woah, you're right.”

  “So,” Tenaro continued, gesturing toward the blades, “you'll stab both in. Pull one out and move it higher… you'll then use the wall to grip onto while I–”

  “How about you hop on my back and I do all the climbing?” Tatsu said, already reaching for one of the swords.

  “What?”

  Tatsu braced against the wall and heaved. His arms shook, his muscles bunching under the white fabric of his shirt.

  “Damn–”

  He put his left foot on the wall and pulled harder until the sword finally groaned and slid free.

  “Gah!”

  He stumbled back, losing his footing while gasping.

  He handed the sword to Tenaro and reached for the next.

  “Wha– You expect me to give you a piggyback ride?” Tenaro stared at him.

  Tatsu struggled with the other sword, clouds leaving his mouth.

  “Yeah… something… like that… gah!” Tatsu replied between breaths, as he freed the blade.

  “Alrighty, gimme the sword and get on my back.”

  He outstretched his arm, waiting for the sword in Tenaro's hand.

  “No, we're gonna do what I–”

  “That'll take too long.” Tatsu interrupted, arm still outstretched.

  Tenaro glanced down at the sword and back at Tatsu.

  *Why do I even bother?*

  He let out a long, defeated sigh and handed over his own blade.

  “Tch.”

  “Relax.” Tatsu grinned, turning his back, “I'm a swordsman.”

  Tenaro dragged his leaden limbs forward, his arms feeling like anvils as he hooked them over Tatsu's shoulders and locked his legs around his waist.

  Immediately, he felt Tatsu's body heat surge into him. He raised an eyebrow, *Huh?*

  He pushed the thought aside, “Do not put a scratch on my swords.” Tenaro warned.

  “Aye, aye.”

  Tatsu coiled his legs and sprang forward, slamming both swords into the stone with a concussive thump.

  Tenaro felt the vibration travel through Tatsu's spine and into his own chest.

  “It's gonna be tough to pull out. Get ready.” Tatsu grunted, his lips stretching.

  He heaved, his entire frame tensing as he tore one blade free. He swayed for a perilous second, Tenaro tightening his grip on Tatsu's neck.

  Tatsu recovered, slamming the blade higher up.

  “Phew!”

  “Be careful!” Tenaro snapped.

  “Relax. Just hold on tight.”

  They moved in a slow, agonizing rhythm, Tatsu grunting and heaving upward. With every heave, the biting wind whipped around them, growing sharper the more higher they went.

  Tenaro tilted his head back; heavy, grey clouds were beginning to churn once more on the ceiling.

  *What is wrong with this place?*

  After what felt like an hour of vertical torture, the silver archway loomed just inches away. Tenaro stared at Tatsu's shoulders, wondering how the guy didn't slip once.

  *Is he a beast?*

  The heat from Tatsu's body radiated through his entire body now, making the cold more manageable.

  “You got this.” Tenaro murmured, his voice teasing.

  “Huff, huff. Shut… up.”

  “Climb past the door, I wanna see something.” Tenaro commanded.

  Tatsu grumbled but complied, stabbing the blades on the left of the silver frame.

  His hair whipped past his eyes as Tenaro spotted a door handle and reached out. The surface of the rounded knob felt like a block of ice, the cold biting into his skin like a predator.

  “Move a bit to the right…”

  Tatsu shifted, and Tenaro's hand found the knob. He pulled, but the door stuck.

  He bunched his biceps, the veins in his arm popping as he hauled back.

  “Hurry up!” Tatsu strained, face scrunched.

  With a sudden click, the door swung wide as if it had been holding its breath.

  In the dark reflection of the door, Tenaro saw shadows dancing against a flickering light. The wind surged, trying to tear him from Tatsu's back. He tapped Tatsu's shoulder hard, “Go!”

  Tatsu scrambled through the opening, the swords clattering against the stone as they both collapsed onto the floor inside.

  “It's… so warm...” Tatsu wheezed, sprawling on his back.

  Tenaro pressed his palms on the ground. The ground was warm, a low rhythmic thrum against his skin.

  He lifted his head and his breath left his lungs.

  Dominating the center of the hall was a colossal gold statue—a man crowned with a headdress of jagged, solar rays.

  In his cupped, metallic hands, a roar of fire danced, its orange light licking the corners of the massive room.

  “The inside really is as big as the outside.” Tarsu said, finally sitting up.

  The room stretched into the gloom, a staircase on the far left spiraling upward, while another nearby to their right plummeted into the depths.

  Above the central flame, a massive gold plate hung suspended—a face with jagged rays that seemed to track them with unblinking eyes.

  Tenaro stood up straight, his limbs thawing more in the fire's radiance. His eyes caught something above on the ceiling.

  A sprawling mural depicted a man in a solar headdress kneeling before a figure whose face was deliberately obscured by a black pigment, a sore thumbs in the picture.

  Tatsu climbed to his knees, his jaw hanging open.

  “This place is insane!”