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Chapter 25: Golden Blood

The voices were getting louder in his head.

As Technoblade walked into the freezing arctic, packed to the brim with supplies, he had been prepared to face the hardest challenges that any person could ever face. He thought he was ready.

But he wasn't ready for this.

He was annoyed. The voices, they just appeared one day. It started soft, a distant echo like humming at first, but over the course of the few weeks the voices were turning into almost distinguishable voices, like the broken remains of a long dead language. It was unsettling.

And it was happening in his head 24/7.

On top of that, he has started feeling something pulling him. Like a compass was set in his soul, pointing him to go a certain direction. He found himself walking, against the billowing winds and biting cold, in a slightly tilted direction, subconsciously turning.

What was doing it? Why was he susceptible to it? Was it dangerous? Friendly?

The questions were almost as loud as the words being whispered down his neck.

He was resolved to ignore it. And he had been ignoring it for a good solid while now. But he could only last so long. Today was the day that Techno finally cracked and stopped trying to walk away from the pulling.

He knew he was probably walking into a trap. He knew people came into the arctic and died. He knew this was a bad idea.

He just couldn't help himself anymore.

For how much Techno didn't like to involve himself into things, mainly social things, he was still a very curious person. He loved exploring, he loved answers. He loved knowing.

And this was something that he couldn't live with if he never figured out what it was.

Techno had followed through the dark snowy sky, the blizzard blocking out all sunlight from coming in. He had taken one of his cold resistance potions, otherwise he would've already been a corpse-sicle. He was happy he had packed as much as he had.

"It's always important to pack light." Philza had warned him. "But never pack light on things that may save your life."

Techno raised his hand against the wind, the cold air biting and sending prickles of pain through his body. It still was freezing, his hot breath turning into fog from the moment it escaped his mouth. His hair had fallen out of it's braid, whipping wildly round his face and if it wasn't for his mask it would but flicking into his eyes.

Where was the force taking him?

He had no idea how long he would be walking. He had no idea how long the storm would last. He had no idea if something was waiting just five feet in front of him ready to slaughter and feast upon his guts.

But, somewhere in his chest he knew he was walking the right direction.

The voices were getting louder.

Technoblade squinted, thinking he saw something. Something big. Something like a shadow rising in the distance, getting closer and closer as he planted each hoof in the ground and pressed forward in the thick crunchy snow.

Technoblade reached out, hand extended. His fingers glanced the edge of something solid. Something freezing. 

What in the world...?

Techno got closer, placing a full palm on it and leaning in to see what it was. Through harsh bursts of wind, he could see his reflection in crystal clear reflective ice, his own image multiplying like a house of mirrors. Confused, Techno pulled his hand back.