I WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE GRAVEYARD

The Frozen Anvil

The Frozen Anvil

Colonel Darius Ironheart had no faith in ghosts, but he respected the undeniable power of iron. 

Towering over the scene at six and a half feet, encased in his signature vanguard armor, Darius surveyed the wreckage of the Grand Forge's fuel junction. His rugged face twisted in fury as the steam vents on his shoulders hissed, echoing his ragged breaths.

"What’s the timeline?" he demanded, his voice a deep rumble that bounced off the subterranean chamber's stone walls.

"Less than ten minutes, Colonel," stammered the Head Forge Master, trying to steady his grip on a brass wrench. "Pressure collapsed almost instantly. We suspected a mechanical failure in the pneumatic seals, but... see the pipes, sir."

Darius stepped forward, his iron boots crunching on the frost-covered stone. He reached out and touched the primary fuel cylinder. 

The brass, expected to be scalding hot from the flow of Hell-Fire Oil, was encased in a thick layer of black ice. The cold pierced his insulated gauntlet, sending a jolt of pain up his arm. He withdrew his hand, shocked. He had battled through the icy northern tundras and faced glacial mages. This was unlike any ice magic he knew. Instead of melting, the black frost expanded, draining the room's heat.

Darius examined the central valve wheel. It hadn’t been turned; it was twisted off its axle with brute force—force that only a devastating engine could exert.

"Clear the room," Darius ordered, his voice low.

"But Colonel, the smelting vats—"

"I said clear the room!" he roared, prompting the workers to retreat in fear. "Get security out of the lower sectors! Lock down the primary elevator! Only my elite guard enters this junction!"

The workers scattered, leaving behind an eerie silence punctuated by the crackling black ice spreading over the brass cylinders.

Darius remained alone, gripping the pommel of his war-hammer. 

"Marius was wrong," he murmured, his breath visible in the cold air. "Kael didn’t run. He didn’t desert."

He moved to the secondary cylinder, where Exodus had punched through the steel casing. There, in the torn metal, rested a gray limestone fragment.

Darius picked it up, recognizing it without Lyra's intelligence. It came from the Ravine of Martyrs.

A cold sweat formed on Darius’s neck, a reminder of his first campaign. Kael's warnings hadn’t been drunken ramblings. The ghost was real. The Commander had escaped his execution pit and was dismantling their power base.

"You targeted my forge first, didn’t you, Exodus?" Darius whispered, gripping the stone tighter. "You’re stripping my anvil before facing me."

A low chuckle resonated from the high ventilation shafts above. 

Darius spun, raising his war-hammer, eyes scanning the dark rafters. "Show yourself! I know you’re up there, you unholy abomination! You think frozen pipes can break the Ironheart Legion?"

No physical form appeared. Instead, shadows on the ceiling twisted into a spectral hound, made of shifting black ash and burning green embers. Perched on a high beam, it watched Darius with cold calculation.

The scout wasn’t there to fight. It was there to watch him.

"Die, ghost!" Darius shouted, channeling mana into his war-hammer. The weapon flared, releasing a shockwave that shattered the beam.

The beam crashed loudly, but the ash-hound didn’t fall. It dissolved into soot, vanishing into the stone floor.

Darius lowered his hammer, his breath heavy as silence returned. The cold lingered.

His strategic mind assessed the situation. Exodus wasn’t striking randomly. He had neutralized Kael for speed, compromised Lyra to blind them, and frozen the forge to cripple military production. 

Exodus was cutting off their resources, preparing for a final assault.

"If you want my grave, Exodus, you’ll have to fight through steel to get it," Darius growled, fury overshadowing his fear.

He marched to the communications console, hitting the rune-pad to contact Captain Marius Vex.

"Marius! Respond!" Darius bellowed.

"Darius?" Marius’s voice crackled through static. "What’s this disruption about? I said we’d handle Kael quietly."

"Kael is the least of our worries!" Darius snapped, eyes on the expanding black ice. "The Grand Forge has been sabotaged by an unholy force. Exodus Thorne is in the military quarter, Marius. He’s hunting us, and if we don’t lock down the city with holy paladins now, we’re all doomed to the graves he promised."

Silence met his words—a heavy silence that shattered the golden ringleader’s confidence.