A sound like cracking glass echoed from the Wastes. Then came the shadows—beasts made of smoke and winter hunger, pouring over the ridges. The village bells began to toll, a frantic, rhythmic plea for help. Kael, trapped on the high slopes, watched in horror as the first wave of shadows reached the village gates.
"If you are there," Kael whispered, pressing his blood-stained palm against the cold metal, "the debt is due." The mountain didn’t shake; it exhaled. The Great Protector
The village of Aethelgard sat in the palm of a jagged mountain range, a tiny spark of life in a world of ice. For generations, the villagers had lived in the shadow of the , a colossal statue of a knight carved directly into the highest peak . Its stone sword was leveled at the horizon, and its blank eyes stared eternally toward the Northern Wastes. A sound like cracking glass echoed from the Wastes
The sound of stone grinding on stone was louder than thunder. The Great Protector shifted its weight, a movement that caused a localized earthquake, sending snow cascading down the slopes in massive avalanches that buried the shadow-beasts. Kael, trapped on the high slopes, watched in
Kael was a young shepherd who spent his days in the high pastures, often leaning his back against the Protector’s massive stone boot. He didn’t believe the old stories—that the statue was a living titan turned to stone, waiting for the world’s end to wake. To him, it was just rock, weathered by wind and moss.