Oldborne

Three

The world spun as Eira tumbled through the air, the sled splintering beneath her. Pain exploded in her shoulder as she slammed into a hard surface, the breath knocked out of her lungs. Disoriented, she lay there for a moment, the snow muffling all sound.

"Eira!" a familiar voice cut through the ringing in her ears. She struggled to sit up, her vision blurry. Bjorn was beside her, his face contorted in a grimace of pain. Erik, surprisingly unharmed, was already scrambling to his feet, his axe clutched tightly in his hand.

"We need to get out of here," Bjorn rasped, his voice strained. "Another avalanche could come at any moment."

Eira pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the sharp pain in her shoulder. The sled was a mangled wreck, the horse thankfully free and limping away, spooked but unharmed. Their supplies were scattered across the slope, buried under a fresh layer of snow.

Panic threatened to consume Eira, but she forced it down. They needed to find shelter, and fast. Glancing around, she spotted a dark opening in the side of the mountain, partially obscured by snow.

"There!" she pointed, her voice hoarse. "A cave."

Bjorn grunted in agreement, and together they made their way towards the opening. The cave entrance was narrow, barely large enough for a single person to squeeze through. Eira went first, the rough stone scraping against her fur cloak as she crawled inside.

The cave opened up into a surprisingly large chamber, dimly lit by a shaft of light filtering through a crack in the ceiling. Relief washed over Eira as she surveyed the space. It was dry and relatively free of snow, a welcome refuge from the howling blizzard raging outside.

Erik stumbled in behind her, his eyes wide with wonder. Bjorn, however, remained at the entrance, peering out cautiously.

"There's something out there," he muttered, his voice low.

Eira joined him, her heart pounding. Through the swirling snow, she could just make out a dark shape lying motionless at the bottom of the slope. It was the avalanche, but something about it seemed wrong.

"What is it?" Erik whispered, his voice laced with fear.

Bjorn remained silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. Then, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"It's not snow," he said. "It's... ice. Black ice, unlike anything I've ever seen."

Eira's breath hitched. Black ice. The legends spoke of such a substance, a herald of great misfortune, formed from the frozen tears of a vengeful ice spirit. Its presence here, amidst the unnatural storms and whispers of forgotten creatures, sent a shiver down her spine.

"We need to get out of here," Eira said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her heart. "This place... it feels wrong."

Bjorn nodded curtly. The urgency in his eyes mirrored her own fear. But as they turned to leave, a new sound reached their ears – a low, guttural growl that echoed deep within the cavern. They were not alone.