Raven swiped her blade to the side, getting rid of the blood of the monster she had just slain.
She stared aloof for a couple of seconds. The floor was crudely decorated by bodies of White Walkers, slain in a boorish manner, unsightly to the sane.
Her face and armor were stained with violet blood. A cold, icy glare emanated from her crimson eyes, viciously scanning the environment.
The one White Walker that Northern had spared knelt down with a terrified expression on his face. He was breathing hard, all his features contorted so badly and pale.
She stood nonchalantly and just stared, trying to find something.
The mountain was a literal wall. However, she could tell that there was something beyond it. After all, why would guards be stationed at this particular place, and why would so many of them give their lives just to stop her from reaching this point?
Although all their efforts were in—unfair—vain. She had not even sustained a wound in battle.
After a while of staring, Raven turned to the kneeling White Walker and asked:
"Where's the way forward?"
The White Walker trembled at the sound of her voice. Of course, he didn't understand what she was saying, but he stood nonetheless, shakily running towards the icy rock.
He paused in front of it, shivering tremendously. Raven could tell there was something there that he feared.
She pierced him with a glare, watching him tremble yet again. This one was completely overwhelmed by the fear of her.
She just had to remind him that she was the only one he could see right now and focus on.
His immediate death was imminent should he refuse to cooperate with her.
And he seemed to understand that with the vicious glare she shot at him.
However, there was another method she could use...
She just didn't want to; she'd prefer for it to be a last resort.
"Way forward," she pressed, hardening her voice and gaze.
The White Walker shivered like he had a slight seizure. He was limping on one leg and slowly moved to the side, caressing the rock surface.
His hand stopped at one point and pushed inside, causing a slight tremble in the landscape.
The White Walker again seemed to hesitate, but Raven's glare only got more terrific, causing him to carry on.
He began to press different rock patchments that were hidden on the surface of the rock—that served as the base of the mountain.
When he finally stopped after pressing like ten of them, then he stepped back and trembled.
The entire landscape shuddered heavily, and then the snow that covered the surface of the rock began to fall off, like something was being moved away.
After a while, a dark cavern entrance was revealed before Raven's eyes.
Hoping that he had managed to satisfy her, the White Walker slowly turned to her, his face desperately begging for mercy.
However, Raven swung her hand sideways, separating his head in a clean slice.
The body slowly crashed to the ground. She cast it a disdainful look before she turned her eyes to the entrance of the cave.
The mouth of the tunnel was an ominous gash in the sheer face of the ice mountain.
A frigid wind whistled through the narrow entrance, carrying with it an eerie whisper.
As Raven stepped into the tunnel, the world outside slowly seemed to vanish, swallowed by the oppressive darkness that clung to the cavern walls.
The air grew noticeably colder within the tunnel, the temperature dropping with each cautious step forward, but she could still manage thanks to the amazing cold-resistant cloak the White Walkers had given to her.
The walls, carved from the mountain itself, were smooth yet glistening with a thin layer of frost that sparkled like a field of stars under the dim light of every flickering torch, ten meters away from each other.
Every now and then, a faint blue glow emanated from deep cracks in the walls, the result of some unknown luminescent mineral buried within the ice.
These occasional glimmers provided just enough light to reveal the tunnel's rough, uneven floor, littered with loose stones and patches of slick ice that threatened to send the unwary traveler sprawling. So Raven could see quite well, even though it was dark.
As Raven descended deeper into the tunnel, the air grew thick with a musty, damp smell.
The temperature continued to drop, and the faint sound of running water became more pronounced, mingling with the low, distant rumble that seemed to emanate from the very heart of the mountain.
Raven, at this point, was beginning to feel the cold bite deep into her bones. She was beginning to shiver slightly.
It felt like she was approaching the heart and source of the cold itself.
And it brought an ominous feeling with it.
Raven clenched her fist and frowned but did not stop walking either way.
After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel opened into a vast, cavernous chamber.
The ceiling soared high above, lost in shadows, while the floor was a maze of uneven ice and ancient stonework.
At the far end of the chamber, the entrance to the underground palace loomed like the mouth of a forgotten beast, its gates ajar and welcoming in a foreboding way.
Raven took a deep breath, surveyed her surroundings with a cautious gaze, and when she confirmed that there was nothing more, she continued forward.
The palace itself stood in a state of disrepair, its once-mighty walls crumbling and draped in thick black curtains.
The grand entrance, framed by towering pillars of ice, was chipped and weathered, the intricate carvings barely discernible beneath the encroaching ice that crept over everything like a slow, inevitable tide.
Inside, the palace was a testament to its former glory, now reduced to haunting echoes and silent memories.
The grand hall, once filled with the light of a thousand candles, was now a cavernous void, its walls lined with shadowy alcoves that seemed to whisper of forgotten tales.
The marble floor, once polished to a mirror-like sheen, was cracked and pitted, overlaid with a treacherous sheet of ice that mirrored the ghostly outlines of the decaying chandeliers above.
Faded tapestries hung in tatters from the walls, their rich colors dulled to mere shadows of their former vibrancy.
Stone statues, once proud and imposing, stood in silent vigil, their features eroded and softened by centuries of frost and neglect.
In the center of the hall, a grand staircase spiraled upwards, its balustrade wrapped in a delicate lace of ice.
Each step was a treacherous journey, slick with frost and littered with the debris of fallen masonry.
The steps led to a series of corridors and chambers, their doorways gaping like dark mouths, inviting exploration but promising only the cold embrace of horror.
Raven stood amidst it all, shivering from the intense cold that emanated from this place. Undoubtedly, this was it.
This had to be somewhere that was very important to the rift.
It had to be the heart of the rift.
It had to be... the rift core.
Her brows furrowed with stark determination as that realization dawned on her.
In that moment, however, heavy footsteps began to resound in one of the chambers, slowly getting closer to her and getting heavier.
She could tell without needing to confirm that something strong and big was coming for her.
And yet, her face betrayed no emotions, not even the slightest show of fear.