Rise Of Hades' Hellborn: Trumpets Of The Damned

Shadows Over Ice

The interior of the Paragon stealth transport was cold and sterile, humming with a low-frequency drone as it cut through the stratosphere. Inside, Myles sat near the back of the dimly lit aircraft, eyes fixed on the black steel of the reinforced walls. His wrists rested on his lap—no longer bound by suppressors, yet still tingling with the phantom burn of restraint.

He slowly flexed his right hand. Purple veins shimmered faintly beneath the skin, pulsing with raw energy. Freedom felt heavier than chains.

Across from him sat the Alpha Response Team—Paragon's finest. Lieutenant Anna Storm exuded command presence even in her flight harness, her arms crossed and posture razor-straight. Beside her was Jack, the team's tech-and-field specialist, all smirks and restless energy. Melissa, the data-seer, calmly adjusted the lens interface on her temple, reviewing neural readouts.

Alex, the demolitions expert, sat hunched with a coil of explosive line draped over one leg, while Leo, the ever-watchful field agent, tapped absently on his encrypted wrist pad.

Myles didn’t miss their subtle glances—eyes that weighed his presence like a live grenade strapped into their squad.

Jack was the first to speak, grinning like he hadn’t been moments from war. “So how come you’re the only one who ain’t got a Paragon-issued suit?”

Myles arched an eyebrow, glancing at his reflection in the emergency window. His charcoal-black trench coat hung perfectly from his shoulders, layered over a crisp white shirt and tailored dark trousers. He looked less like a government weapon and more like a ghost from an old noir film.

“I dress for funerals,” he replied evenly. “Yours included if you keep staring.”

Jack chuckled, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, trench-coat-of-doom. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Anna didn’t smile. “We don’t need levity. We need clarity.”

Her voice cut through the cabin like a scalpel. The rest of the team fell into a quiet rhythm. Jack’s smirk faded.

She leaned forward slightly, her tone shifting to professional calm. “Myles. You’ve been briefed on the mission’s outline. Now you get the full picture.”

She activated a wrist-mounted projector. A 3D terrain scan flickered to life midair—frozen valleys, jagged ice cliffs, and one pulsating red dot buried deep beneath the Taymyr Peninsula.

“We land fifty klicks south of the heat anomaly. No flyovers. Satellite blind zone. We move on foot with thermals and tracking drones. The fissure opens every twenty hours for roughly fifteen minutes. That’s our window in.”

Myles nodded slightly, absorbing the data. “And the trumpet?”

Melissa picked up. “Assuming Kaelin’s embedded coordinates are legit, Trumpet Two lies beneath the glacial crust—either sealed or dormant. But if it’s like Trumpet One, proximity could be enough to trigger it. We tread carefully.”

Alex spoke up for the first time, her voice low and steady. “I’ve prepped kinetic charges in case we need controlled access. But one wrong pressure differential, and we’ll trigger a collapse. And you don’t walk out of an ice tomb.”

Leo added, “There’s also movement down there. Thermal pings detected something… pulsing. No readings match known fauna. Possibly demonic.”

Myles cracked his knuckles and leaned back, trench coat flaring as he folded his arms. “Sounds like a nice vacation spot.”

Anna didn’t respond to the sarcasm. “Your role is overwatch and breach containment. If anything reacts to our presence, you intercept. You have full use of your abilities—within my command.”

He gave her a long look, searching for doubt. There was none.

“You really trust me to hold back the flood?”

“No,” she said. “But I trust you want to.”

The hum of the engines filled the silence that followed.

“ETA, twenty minutes,” came the pilot’s voice over the comms.

Anna stood and checked her sidearm. The rest of the team did the same. Myles simply closed his eyes.

Beneath the lid, faint embers flickered…

***

Deep within Kaelin's lair, Kaelin stood in silent meditation.

His silhouette, barely human now, pulsed with crimson sigils. Around him, the chamber breathed—walls of flesh and frost undulating like lungs remembering life.

From the mist rose a soundless entity, like vapor caught between frames of reality. Nixx, the formless entity.

“They move toward the ice.”

Kaelin didn’t open his eyes. “Paragon?” “The Alpha Unit. And him. The Avatar.”

A flicker passed across Kaelin’s expression. Not fear. Not rage. Something closer to amusement.

“Good. Let them find the gate. Let them see what sleeps beneath the ice.”

Nixx shuddered. Shall I intercept?

“No,” Kaelin murmured. “Let the second trumpet judge them. Only then will they understand what the end truly sounds like.”

The air twisted. The formless presence bowed, then vanished.

Kaelin finally opened his eyes. They burned with black fire.

“Come then, Myles,” he whispered. “Let’s see if you’re still a hunter… or just another soul waiting to drown in the snow.”