Chapter 35: NIVARETH: Eternal FrostBlade

Chapter 35: Chapter 35: NIVARETH: Eternal FrostBlade

The moment Theon stepped through the gate, the world changed.

The sounds behind him faded. The crackling of Fen’s thunder disappeared. The whispers of the assassins vanished into nothing. Even the beating of his own heart seemed to grow distant, as if it belonged to someone else.

Only the cold remained.

The frozen hall stretched endlessly before him, lit by a pale silver glow that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Giant icicles hung from the ceiling like the fangs of some ancient beast, and the black silver frost beneath his feet swallowed every reflection whole.

At the center stood the sword.

Nivareth. The Eternal Frostblade.

Theon tried to stop walking. He couldn’t. It wasn’t a spell pulling him forward, and it wasn’t force or chains either. It felt like a memory he had forgotten was quietly calling him home.

Another step. Another. The celestial ice blue light in his eyes flickered softly with each one.

Behind him, Lyra’s voice finally reached him through the cold. "Theon!"

He didn’t turn.

"Come back!" she shouted. "Don’t go any further!"

Lazeria tried to rush after him, but a long arm caught her before she could move. Ifrith held both girls back.

"Don’t," the Flame Lord demon said quietly.

"He’s walking straight toward that thing!" Lyra struggled against his grip. "Let me go!"

Ifrith’s expression stayed grim. "If you cross that threshold without being chosen, the curse may freeze you instantly."

Lazeria looked at him in shock. "You think he’s chosen?"

Ifrith didn’t answer, and that silence frightened her so much.

Fen stood near the gate, watching calmly, thunder rolling softly around his massive body.

Ifrith glanced at the wolf. "You’re not trying to stop him?."

Fen’s glowing eyes stayed fixed on Theon. "I would never choose a weak master."

The words echoed through the frozen hall. Ifrith stared at him for a moment, and then a faint smile touched his lips.

"Good answer."

Behind them, Raven slowly rose to his feet. His clothes were torn, and frost still clung to his arms, but his eyes burned with something closer to obsession than pain.

The gate was open. The sword was within reach. And Theon was walking straight toward it.

A slow smile spread across the archduke’s face. "Yes," he whispered. "Go on." His voice grew louder, almost hungry. "Bring it to me, Theon."

The prince didn’t react. It was as if he could no longer hear anything except the call of the blade.

Then the voice came.

Soft. Distant. Calm.

*Help me.*

Theon froze, his breath catching in his throat. The voice hadn’t come from behind him. It had come from the sword itself.

His eyes widened. "Who’s there?"

No answer. Only silence.

Then again, closer this time.

*Help me.*

Pain lived in those two words. Loneliness too. More than thousand years of waiting was folded into a whisper.

Theon’s chest tightened, and without realizing it, he began walking faster. The Eternal Frostblade grew clearer with every step, longer than any sword he had ever seen. Silver white metal ran through the blade like frozen lightning, and ancient runes glowed faintly along its edge. Around the hilt, black silver ice pulsed like a living heart, slow and steady, almost patient.

Theon reached out.

The moment his fingers touched the hilt, it was as if the world shattered.

He stood somewhere else entirely. An empire burned beneath a white sky. Ice storms swallowed cities whole, and screams echoed across endless streets. At the center of the destruction stood a man. Tall. Silver haired. Eyes glowing the same celestial ice blue as Theon’s own.

In his right hand was the Eternal Frostblade.

The man swung the sword once, a single strike, and half an empire vanished. Mountains split apart. The sky cracked with frozen lightning. Thousands disappeared in an instant, gone before they could even scream.

Theon’s breath stopped.

The man turned. For one terrible moment, Theon thought he was looking into a mirror.

Then the vision broke.

Theon staggered backward, tearing his hand away from the sword, his breathing ragged and uneven. "What was that?" Cold sweat ran down his neck despite the freezing air around him.

The voice returned, closer now, almost desperate. *Help me. Please.*

Theon looked at the blade, fear warring with curiosity inside his chest. If that vision belonged to the past, then the Eternal Frostblade wasn’t a weapon at all.

It was a catastrophe.

And yet the voice didn’t sound evil. It sounded trapped. Alone, the way something can only be alone after a very long time.

Theon clenched his fists. If he walked away now, he might never learn the truth. If he touched it again, he might become the next monster from the vision.

Behind him, Lyra shouted once more. "Theon, come back!"

He closed his eyes, then opened them. The celestial ice blue glow returned, steadier this time.

Slowly, he reached for the sword again, and this time he wrapped his hand firmly around the hilt. A hidden edge near the guard sliced across his palm, and blood spilled onto the black silver ice below.

The hall trembled. The frozen pillars groaned. Cracks spread through the walls like veins opening beneath the surface.

The voice cried out, no longer soft at all.

*Finally!*

The eternal ice surrounding the sword exploded outward. Silver blue light consumed the chamber whole, and Theon pulled the Eternal Frostblade free.

The moment the Eternal Frostblade left the ice, the frozen hall screamed.

A shockwave of silver blue light exploded outward. The pillars cracked. Icicles shattered from the ceiling like falling spears, and the entire underground chamber trembled violently around them.

Theon staggered back, gripping the sword with both hands. It was lighter than he expected. Too light, almost, as if the blade had already decided it belonged in his grip and had simply been waiting for him to agree.

The runes along its edge blazed with celestial ice blue light.

Then the air in front of him twisted, and a figure emerged from the silver mist. Tall. Silver haired. Eyes glowing like frozen stars.

The same man from the vision.

The spirit of the Eternal Frostblade.

Theon’s breath caught. The spirit looked at him for a single second, and its expression shifted. Not surprise. Recognition, the kind that only comes from having waited a very long time for exactly this moment.

Before Theon could react, the spirit rushed forward, straight into him.

"AAAGH!"

Pain exploded through his body, though it wasn’t physical pain at all. Memories poured into him instead. Voices. Battles. Winter storms swallowing entire armies. A throne buried beneath centuries of snow. The Eternal Frostblade raised against a dying sky.

Theon dropped to one knee, clutching his head as blue lightning erupted around him. The entire hall began to collapse.

Outside the gate, Raven’s eyes went wide. "He pulled it out." His obsession flared into something closer to madness. "Get him! That sword belongs to me!"

The remaining assassins rushed through the open gate, silver frost cracking beneath their boots as they sprinted toward Theon. He barely heard them coming. The spirit was still pouring into him, and his mana surged out of control, wild and unshaped.

The assassins reached him. One grabbed his shoulder, and a pulse of cold erupted from Theon’s body, freezing the man solid instantly.

Another raised a blade, but Fen appeared behind him first. The thunder wolf’s aura exploded outward, and the assassin shattered into pieces before his weapon ever fell.

Ifrith entered the hall in a storm of crimson flames, his eyes burning with fury. "You filth dare to touch my master?"

A wave of demonic pressure swept across the chamber, and the remaining assassins collapsed where they stood, their bodies cracking under the weight of his rage alone.

Theon was still kneeling, trembling violently, the Eternal Frostblade humming in his grip. The spirit’s voice echoed inside him.

*Wielder acknowledged.*

The words sent another surge of power through his body, and the walls split apart. Chunks of stone crashed down from the ceiling.

Lyra rushed toward him, but Ifrith stopped her with an arm across her path. "Wait!"

"He’s going to die!"

"No," Ifrith said, staring at Theon with ancient, unreadable eyes. "Something is merging with him."

Lazeria looked at the collapsing hall in horror. "We have to leave!"

Raven ignored the danger entirely. He stepped into the chamber, snow and dust swirling around him, his gaze locked onto the sword with something close to hunger.

"Theon," he said softly, almost pleading now. "Give me the sword."

Theon slowly raised his head. His celestial ice blue eyes glowed brighter than before, and for a moment, Raven felt as though someone else were looking at him through the prince’s eyes. Ancient. Cold. Unfathomable.

A crack split the floor between them. The chamber lurched violently.

Ifrith grabbed Theon’s shoulder. "We’re leaving!"

Theon swayed, the spirit’s memories still flashing behind his eyes. Empires falling. Oceans freezing. A king standing alone beneath a broken sky.

He tightened his grip on the sword, and finally nodded.

The ceiling collapsed. Fen leaped forward, carrying Lyra and Lazeria across his back, and Ifrith pulled Theon to his feet. The group raced toward the gate as the ancient hall crumbled behind them, stone and ice falling in their wake.

Raven followed too, not because he wanted to save anyone, but because he refused to lose the sword now that he’d come this close to getting his hands on it.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the gate began to close. The silver light dimmed. As the curse vanished. Stone crashed down behind them, and the underground tunnel shook like a dying beast taking its final breath.

"Move!" Ifrith shouted.

They burst through the collapsing corridor as chunks of ice and rock rained down around them. Fen reached the exit first.

Ifrith glanced back. Raven was still running behind them, and for a split second, Ifrith considered letting the tunnel bury him where he stood.

Then Fen suddenly turned. To everyone’s surprise, the great wolf seized Raven by the back of his cloak and threw him onto his own back without breaking stride.

Ifrith blinked. "You’re saving him?"

Fen snorted. "He has done too much evil to die this easily."

For the once in several minutes, Ifrith laughed, a dark and approving sound. "Good. We’ll handle him properly later."

They burst out of the tunnel together. The ancient entrance collapsed behind them with a deafening roar, and snow exploded into the night sky. The underground passage was gone, sealed beneath tons of stone and ice, as if it had never existed at all.

And waiting for them outside was an army.

Imperial knights surrounded the ruins, spears lowered, mana circles glowing along the ground. At their center stood Captain Voss, commander of the palace guard, his eyes sweeping slowly over the scene in front of him: the collapsed tunnel, the exhausted princess, the wounded demon girl, the thunder Fenrir, the towering demon, and finally Theon, standing alone in the snow with the Eternal Frostblade still in his hand.

Silence stretched between them.

Ifrith’s flames rose. Fen growled low in his throat. The knights tightened their formation, spears angling forward.

Then Voss spoke, his voice cutting through the cold like a blade of its own.

"Kneel."

The word echoed across the snowy ruins.

Ifrith took a step forward. One more step and blood would cover the snow.

Then he looked at Theon. The prince was pale, exhausted, barely conscious on his feet. The celestial ice blue light in his eyes flickered weakly, and the sword’s aura was still leaking quietly into the air around him.

Ifrith slowly exhaled, and the flames around him faded. Fen lowered his head.

Theon looked at Captain Voss for a long moment. Then, without resistance, he let the knights approach.

One by one, they were surrounded. Disarmed. And taken back toward the palace in silence.

Behind them, the buried gate slept once more beneath the frozen earth.

But the Eternal Frostblade had already chosen its bearer.

And nothing in the empire could ever be the same again.

They were all taken to the palace underground dungeon and in there Lyra kept protesting saying she’s the princess of this empire but there was no response to her protest.

Soon enough she fell asleep... beside her was Lazeria who was also fast asleep. Some minutes later a footstep echoed through the dungeon closer and closer until they got to Theon cell.

Immediately Ifrith heard it he stood up as the footsteps stopped right in front of him Ifrith said "You have finally decided to reveal Yourself."

"Ruler within the shadows"