The collapse of the thermal pipes sent a thick fog of white steam and ice crystals swirling through the Iron Pass. Through the mist, the heavy thud of metal boots echoed against the stone. A company of Vanguard soldiers emerged, their gold-and-silver armor glowing with a desperate, flickering heat as they tried to combat the Absolute Zero.
At their head stood a man twice the size of the others, wearing a reinforced breastplate etched with the sigil of a rising sun. He carried a massive tower shield and a mace that hummed with a violent, orange energy. This was Captain Kross, the warden of the pass, a man who had never lost a gate in ten years of service.
Hold your ground! Kross bellowed, his voice muffled by his lion-shaped helm. It is only a trick of the mist! No ghost can stand against the Queen's light!
Clevatess stepped through the fog, his stride steady and rhythmic. He didn't look like a man entering a battlefield; he looked like a king walking through his own garden. His midnight-black tunic remained perfectly dry despite the heavy mist, and the raven-feather mantle on his shoulders didn't even flutter as he stopped ten paces from the Captain.
I am not a trick, Clevatess said, his voice cutting through the mechanical hum of the soldiers' armor. And I am not a ghost. I am the winter you thought you had buried.
Captain Kross let out a roar and slammed his mace against his shield, sending a wave of concussive heat toward Clevatess. The ground between them cracked as the artificial sun-fire scorched the path. But as the flames reached the King, they didn't burn him. They turned to gray ash and fell to the floor, stripped of their energy before they could even touch his hem.
Clevatess didn't stop his stride. He continued forward, the violet glow of his eyes intensifying. Every step he took left a footprint of deep, dark ice on the scorched stone.
You fight for a throne built on lies, Clevatess said, his hand reaching out toward the Captain's shield. Your pride is as hollow as the heat in your veins.
Kross swung his mace with enough force to shatter a boulder, but Clevatess simply caught the head of the weapon in his palm. The orange energy was instantly snuffed out, replaced by a layer of violet frost that raced up the handle and seized the Captain's gauntlet. The metal groaned and warped, unable to withstand the sudden drop in temperature.
With a soft shove, Clevatess sent the giant of a man stumbling backward. The soldiers watched in horror as their leader's unbreakable shield shattered into a dozen frozen shards.
The pass is open, Clevatess commanded, his voice echoing off the canyon walls. Move aside, or become part of the mountain.