B2 Chapter 22: Iltheria

The night Shvier left Viridian – after speaking with Solastra 

Shiver strode forwards, into a field of flowers. 

Each and every one of them, the same as what she had glimpsed in the town of Eleric. Flowers with delicate petals, that seemed to be formed from elegant lattices of ice, the tiniest of gems held aloft by sliver-thin stamens. 

Winterlilies. 

They shone in the light of golden and silver moonlight cast by Idriel and Valefor. So did the rest of the landscape around her.  

Shiver wandered into a world of frost concealed within the Dreadwood. She passed trees with burnished silver bark, their sharp peaks spearing into the sky, offering her no relief from the snow that fell. 

A scene reminiscent to her descent from Anhedonia.  

She had revisited the moment countless times. Wishing she had stopped when she had been cautioned. Stopped taking in the cold and isolation, deaf to her guide’s cries. Even cloaked in Aveline’s winter jacket, she felt the fruits of her ignorance. 

The cold pulsed into her being from within. Originating from her Fearcore. 

Yet, she knew she wouldn’t change a thing. How could she, when justice for Marta, Blaze and Pov had been on the line. 

“Popsicle?”

Her eyes darted between the trees, searching for a sign, anything. 

She gritted her teeth, then her expression calmed. 

“From the moment we stepped foot into this Feardamned forest…”

She paced, in a slight crouch. 

“You were toying with us, weren’t you?”

For a second, the shifting of the trees around her, the swaying of the flowers beneath her feet in every direction-

Froze. 

Shiver broke into a grin. She gripped the thick coat that had been gifted by the guildmaster of Brimstone’s archaeologist’s guild. Aveline Veringold’s very own expedition coat, designed for the freezing temperatures of the winterlands. 

She had harboured hope for it. If there was anything that could give the gift of warmth after descending, it would be this, she had thought. Indeed, to its credit, it did bring her a modicum of warmth, that she treasured. 

Not as much as she had hoped. 

Why then, did she keep it? 

With a shrug of her shoulders, her coat fell to the ground, lost among the flowers. Shiver breathed in the winter air deeply, feeling the edges of her vision tinge red, as adrenaline began to course through her system. 

As she heard the slightest sound of… whispering. 

Ever since she had descended, the symptoms of her Fear had grown in their intensity. Even if Icey was holding back the worst of her symptoms, she still felt the telltale signs of its advent.  

The true reason she had kept the coat? 

It was for the fun of it. An elf named “Shiver” with a coat like that? 

The joke wrote itself. 

In truth, she had little use for it. She had faced her Fear head on for as long as she could remember. 

Eyes of blinding white shone from the darkness between the trees of burnished silver bark. 

Stepping with the elegance of a bladedancer, emerged an enormous wolf. It towered over Shiver, even crouched like it was. Shiver’s eyes flickered to the wolves that flanked it, its pack. They melted out of the darkness, emitting not a single sound. 

Each had a coat of white, and eyes of blinding blue and white. 

Her grin widened. 

“Finally, I was getting impatient. Nice to meet you, frostywolves.”

The lead wolf walked in a half circle, coming to rest on her haunches behind her pack. 

Watching. 

Shiver’s body was tightly coiled, ready to erupt at any moment. 

She didn’t have to wait long, as two of the smaller wolves, runts, ran at her with reckless abandon. With barely a thought, Shiver drew her Phobia into reality, her blade at the ready. 

The only problem, was that even with all of Caledon’s training and guidance on the journey to the Dreadwood- 

She was still a terrible swordsman. 

She plunged her Phobia into the ground as the first wolf, leapt - headfirst into her phobia. Taking advantage of its momentary disorientation, she jumped on top of it, drawing its head back, and holding open its jaws. 

Then, she called the single invocation she had received in her descent from Anhedonia. 

[Desolation]

She watched as the wolves around her began to shiver. Quaking, their pelts rendered ineffective in an instant. The wolf that she held within her hands had withstood the brunt of her Fear, and she released it, watching as it thumped to her feet. 

Lifeless. 

When Shiver glanced the haze of dark blue mist that emerged from the wolf’s body, she didn’t waste a second. 

She focused, and drew the Alarum within her with all she had. The creature’s Alarum fled into her Fearcore. Shiver did not feel even the slightest degree of resistance, as the invocation carved itself across her core. 

The frostwolf hunted its prey, deer that pranced about the ice glades. Even as it evaded its jaws, the frostwolf was certain that it would feast like the kings of Iltheria, that day. 

The shard of frost that it manifested in the air before it, speared downwards to lodge itself in the creature’s neck. 

The frostwolf finally tasted its sweet blood. 

[Shard of the frostwolf]

The process had taken the span of a few seconds, and Shiver reacted as soon as the second wolf broke free from the frost that ate into its skin, hurtling towards her. 

Shiver called her Fear. 

[Shard of the frostwolf]

The single shard she had called ineffectively buried itself in the snow before her. The wolf that halted in its advance, stared at her. 

Then, it proceeded to manifest multiple shards of its own, that hung over her like executioners’ blades.

Shiver watched, as they grew into shards double the size of her own, as if to mock her. Then, the strange words wrote themselves across her vision, as the familiar resonance reached her Fearcore. 

Progress towards Fearcore consolidation: [5%]

Fearcore integrity: [Critical]

She watched as the watching wolves began to howl, bringing an end to the accursed silence that draped over the Dreadwood. The wolf before her, sending its shards hurtling towards her. 

--- 

Shiver watched, as the wolf fell to the ground, coming to its final rest. 

She had felled three wolves since she gained her first invocation. None of the others had bestowed her with invocations. Her fourth, was a little more generous. 

“Finally. You could afford to be a little less stingy. You’d give ol’ Pince a run for his money.”

A flash of memory and understanding flooded her, and her eyes flashed in triumph. 

The wolf struggled against harsh blizzard winds, frost buffeting its eyes and obscuring its vision. It was suffused in the elements, at their mercy. The wolf bared its fangs. It did not bow to anyone. It would turn this threat into a boon, and subdue the cold. 

[Shield of the frostwolf]

Invocations, she was learning, were linked to the abilities of the creatures that she encountered. She began to understand Lord Quietus’ talk of mimicry. The first step in Trepidation was learning to crawl, before you walked. Not that the morality of it all mattered to her, when the wolves came for her throat. 

Progress towards Fearcore consolidation: [10%]

Two invocations, and the progress I’ve made was… more significant than I thought, frankly. Will all this talk of a vast Fearcore, I expected the process to be… glacial. 

Heh.

She looked to the final wolf, the leader of the pack. It rose from its haunches. Utterly at ease, it had watched as its pack members rushed to their deaths. It pulled its lips back into a snarl, bearing teeth that appeared to be wrought from ice. 

Shiver watched as shards of ice half the size of her coalesced in the air above the wolf. 

Then, her vision swam. Shiver clutched at her temple as her eyes narrowed. 

She felt a familiar sensation emanating from the wolf. Just like she had whenever she encountered a- 

She finally understood, what Quietus was referring to when he spoke of mimicry. 

It’s Fear. The creatures… they’re Fearshaping. 

The pack leader called its Fear into reality, and the shards rained down upon Shiver. 

[Shield of the frostwolf]

The first shard thudded ineffectively against the translucent dome of ice that she had conjured. The dome shattered after the impact of the very first shard. 

She leapt, breaking into a roll, narrowly avoiding the trajectory of the remaining shards. The wolf did not give her time to collect herself. As she righted herself, she saw it twist its paw. 

Then she glanced downwards, where the snow began to shift. 

She leapt backwards, as spikes of ice rose from the ground where she had been standing a moment ago. 

Putting some distance between herself and the pack leader, she eventually came to stand on top of a frozen pond. 

“This brings me back. Let’s hope it isn’t too nostalgic. Don’t want to end up with a shard in my abdomen-”

She called her Phobia just in the nick of time, ducking under the blade to block an ice shard that hurtled downwards vertically from her blind spot. Out of sheer luck, as much as it was skill – seeing as she had glimpsed it in the reflective surface of the frozen bond beneath her. 

She leapt away as the ice cracked beneath her from the impact, and ran as cracks continued to unfurl outwards from where she strode. 

Her eyes widened as the wolf howled, and the wind accumulated in a spiral around her. If she stepped into its path, there was no doubt she would be caught in its midst, disorientated, then disembowelled by the predator. 

Any sane elf, Fearshaper or not, should have rightly been terrified of the scene. 

“Now I’m starting to understand why all the Fearshapers I’ve met have lost their Feardamned marbles. I’m starting to see you as a resource.”

She grinned in the face of the creature before her. 

[Shard of the frostwolf]

Shiver could feel the Alarum raging within her Fearcore. All of the frost that she had taken in, during her first descension, forming the foundation from which the invocations of her Fear sprung. This time, she drew multiple shards into existence behind her. 

That’s strange… I don’t feel burdened by the invocations. 

The foundation of her Fearcore was not that of a blizzard. Nor was it a storm of ice. 

Its basis was a serene landscape, covered entirely in frost. Effortlessly rendering the rays of the sun ineffective, mocking their effort. 

A frozen world. 

I suppose I would be more surprised if it did drain me. 

She felt like she had an endless well to draw upon. 

So, this is the benefit of driving myself so close to Insanity. 

Icey… 

To hold back the consequences of this much power? 

Shiver gritted her teeth, as her resolve burned anew. She didn’t have the time for this. 

The ice shards she conjured grew to match the size of the wolf’s own. She conjured them strategically, aiming to box the wolf in against its own blizzard. 

The wolf casually called forth its own shield, this one coming into form to shield the front portion of its body in its mastery of frost. Her shards thudded harmlessly against it. 

Except the one she had conjured from above it, to its rear.

Who better to draw inspiration from, then my enemies. 

The wolf let out a harsh yelp, as it reeled from the projectile. Shiver lunged forward, closing the distance she had struggled to maintain between them, drawing her Phobia into her hand, and thrusting it down into one of the wolf’s giants paws. 

It let out a howl of pain. Shiver left it with one last gift, striking upwards, punching its nostrils. She gripped a shard of ice which cut into her hands, carrying it forwards as it struck. 

Mixing its blood with her own. 

The wolf lunged into Shiver, sending her flying into the field of winterlilies. Shiver watched, as the giant wolf limped away in pain, licking at its wounds. Her Phobia dissipated and reappeared in her hand. 

Were they… no. That’s cheating. 

It bared its teeth at her, as it froze over the wound that Shiver had inflicted. 

Then, the unexpected occurred. The wolf turned, sparing her not another glance, as it retreated into the darkness of the forest. 

--- 

The wolf continued to lick at its wounds, and let out a low whine as the pain subsided. The creature that it had fought, stole the skills of its pack. It had watched as the thin, feeble creature struck them down, killing its lesser members, that would one day grow to threaten him. 

It watched with intelligence, learning the creature’s movements and tendencies. Yet the skill of the creature was undeniable. It learned their attack patterns, their strategies almost instantly, using it against them. Matching them in their power, right after having stolen it.  

Its eyes drooped with lethargy. It had expended a lot of energy in the battle. She had proven tricker to kill than it had expected. 

The wolf growled, as it tended to its injured snout. It had to rest, recover, or it would fall prey to the more terrifying predators of its homeland. 

It stalked into the cave of ice, collapsing from its lethargy. 

As its eyes closed, Shiver’s final [shard of the frostwolf] found its mark. Then, walking up to it from where she was crouched at the lip of the cave, Shiver drew in its Alarum. Her eyes widened as darkness overcame her for a moment. 

The young wolf stalked the silver forest alone. Its pack lay dead around it. It trembled from its wounds, inflicted by the beast before it. A frost wyvern, that had torn its kin in twain, showering them with ice breath that threatened to freeze its very own blood in its path. 

As the wolf strode forwards, it embraced the cold. Welcoming its embrace. The wounds that leaked blood onto the ground stilled, brought to a standstill. 

As it stared up into the burning blue wyes of one of the lords of Iltheria, the ice glades, it saw respect. 

Then, it howled, its cry piercing the stillness of the forest, rallying other frostwolves in its periphery. The winds around it began to pick up, accelerating into a blizzard around it. 

The wolf called the storm of ice that would one day be its death, to itself. 

Shiver recoiled as the momentary vision ended, as she comprehended the shape of the wolf’s Fear. This time, it took slightly more effort to pull the dark blue haze that emerged from the frostwolf’s body, but her Fearcore consumed it. 

Hungering for more.

[Howl of the frostwolf]

[Stillwound of the frostwolf]

Progress towards Fearcore consolidation: [30%]

Shiver let out a deep breath, collapsing onto the cold, cave floor. The ice shard she had torn across its snout had been key, mixing her blood with its own. It would have been alerted to her presence otherwise. 

Then Shiver froze, as she heard it again. The scream of agony, every time that she called her Fear to her, opening a path from her Fearcore. 

The scream she had heard for the very first time, in the midst of the Archcity of Fear. 

She gritted her teeth in desperation, as Icey’s voice reached her once more. 

Taunting her. So far out of her reach.

After gaining the wolf’s invocations? 

Now just a little bit closer. Still not close enough. 

The sound of her ragged breathing was interrupted by a roar that pierced the air, causing the cave to shake. Shiver tiredly strained her neck, glimpsing a beast like a dragon skirt the treetops. Sending ice breath into the forest floor below.

Then, she felt something strange, as the dragon – no frost wyvern – glided over the forest. The beast uttered no words, but she recognised as it called its Fear, conjuring a blizzard onto the ground beneath it, causing its prey to scatter. 

Her lips widened into a bloody grin. Things were starting to get interesting. Shiver flinched, as the wyvern’s howl sent harsh winter winds straight into the cave, buffeting her for a few moments before subsiding. The cold also greeted her from within, springing from her Fearcore. 

She left the cave, returning to the forest. The sight of the wyvern lingered in her mind, yet another creature to be sacrificed at the altar of her own descension. She trudged through the snow, taking care to portray a distinct limp. At this point, it was becoming one of her signature moves. 

The image of a wounded creature, inviting the eyes of the forest to claim their next meal. What better way to invite the denizens of the wood to greet her. 

She would receive them all, equally, with open arms. 

Which was right when time came to a standstill. 

Shiver felt the howls of the wind subside, abruptly, the movement of the trees around her abruptly coming to a standstill. She was locked in her body, unable to move. A fox with a soft white coat emerged out of the darkness before her, bright red eyes examining her curiosity. 

Devoid of any fear. 

Then, a familiar sensation reached her. The formless voice that every Fearshaper comprehended, from their companion in their descent. 

"Fearshaper. I see your desperation. You will hardly find Iltheria’s true rewards, in a petty frost wyvern."

Time snapped back into motion, the moment of eternity passing. Her eyes were fixed on the fox that stood before her, its multiple tails swishing casually behind it. 

“You can speak. No…”

The fox idly licked its paw. 

“You’re a guide.” 

“My, aren’t you perceptive. You aren’t going to kill me, harvest me for my powers?”

Shiver met the guide’s gaze unflinchingly. 

“Good, it looks like you haven’t fallen to Idriel’s Insanity. Come with me.”

She watched as the fox walked further into the darkness. With a swish of her tail, white flame blossomed into the air around her, casting the forest into blinding white light for a moment, before settling to a comfortable degree. It shone off the silver bark of the trees around her, and she admired the forest in its full glory. 

Iltheria, the ice glades.