The bones around the altar began to move.Rhok didn’t blink. The figure across from him, the pale man with black voids for eyes, raised a single hand, his fingers were long and too many were disjointed, curling like a spider legs. At his motion, the altar behind him groaned. The bones atop it rattled like an earthquake was about to occur, then rose.Dozens of them.No. Hundreds.Skeletal arms rose into motion. Broken femurs snapped into place beside shattered skulls. Rib cages twisted unnaturally, dragged into shapes that defied anatomy. Not corpses. Not truly. These were puppets bone marionettes strung together by unseen strings, limbs stitched by infinitely small threads, held aloft like meatless dolls.The man smiled. “Let’s see how exactly tough you are, if you would make a good puppet.”Rhok didn’t answer. Words were pointless now.He reached inward.The shadow responded instantly, pouring from his right arm and shoulder like smoke. It curled across his back, sharpening the angle

The air shifted slightly, as though reacting to the omnipotent powers of the Black Frost.Even the man, no, the demonic worshipper that had been so arrogant before… now trembled.His twisted smile faded as his skeletal marionettes stood frozen around him, shattered in places, as though they themselves feared what they were seeing. The black frost at Rhok’s feet pulsed like a living curse, and the air grew so cold, it even froze at some point.“You... What have you done?” the man hissed.Rhok didn’t answer. His eyes, darker than night, stared at him, through him.The demonic worshipper’s expression twisted, this time not in arrogance, but in raw disbelief and fear. “That power,” he growled, his voice cracking like dry bones. “That is forbidden! That is not yours! WHO GAVE IT TO YOU?!”The demonic worshipper raised both hands. From the depths of the altar, bones moved again, clattered, screamed even some more, much louder than the skeletal giant that stood before Rhok.The ground ruptur

The sun was beginning to set by the time Rhok and his party reached the Capitol gates. The city walls loomed tall and familiar, lined with guards and banners in the different noble houses, even the crest of the Silver Blade Guild fluttering in the evening wind. It had only been a few days, but to Rhok, it felt like a lifetime. A cursed ruin, a demon worshipper, Blackfrost nearly consuming his soul… Yeah, a lot had happened.The streets buzzed as usual, merchants yelling over one another, nobles parading their oversized horses, and kids running through alleys like it was a game of tag. But Rhok didn’t stop to take in the Capitol’s charm. He walked like a man with urgency because he was in fact troubled.The Silver Blade Guild stood tall and filled with adventurers as usual. As they approached its wooden old doors, Eryn stretched her arms.“Back to civilization. I missed real food,” she sighed dramatically.“You were scared to shit of the Kanthas,” Dian muttered. “And Rhok unconscious

The tavern was alive with noise, laughter, mugs clinking, and a bard playing something that sounded like a goat being strangled, but somehow people still clapped to the beat. The Silver Blade Guild’s tavern wasn’t fancy, but it was homey, warm, and above all, familiar.Rhok sat at a round table near the hearth, legs stretched out, a half-finished mug of dark ale in his hand. Liora sat across from him, sipping something bright red that smelled like cherries with a slab of well-roasted and sliced meat by her side. Eryn was already halfway into her second bottle, and Dian had decided one wasn’t enough and was now double-fisting two mugs like a warmonger. “You know,” Eryn said, slouching in her seat, “I’m starting to forget how terrifying those corpse puppets were. Almost feels like we just beat up a haunted scarecrow.”“Don’t tempt fate,” Dian replied, pointing at her with his mug. “Last time you said something like that, we ended up almost getting eaten by wolves immediately after the

Rhok kept walking.He didn’t know why. His legs moved independently like they didn’t care what his brain wanted anymore. The village stretched in every direction, but none of it looked different. Same crooked houses. Same empty roads. The same thick mist clung to everything like a wet blanket.He scratched the back of his head.“What’s my name again?” he muttered.He stopped walking and blinked slowly.“…Rhok?”It sounded wrong. Or maybe it was right. He wasn’t sure anymore. He tried saying it again. “Rhok. Rhok. Rhok…” but the more he repeated it, the more it sounded like nonsense. Like a noise, not a name.He shook his head and kept moving.Eventually, he saw a group of people sitting near a broken fountain. About five of them. All men. They looked normal at first glance, old, young, somewhere in between. They sat on benches and stone blocks, their eyes wide open, unmoving, just like the others.Still, Rhok walked toward them.He sat down beside a bald man wearing a brown vest.“So…