And the Fifth Gate was named Frozen Dusk, led by Rashel, the Fifth Fallen One known for his gluttony. Trapped within it were Glacier Orcs, Frost Drakes, Ice Wraith, Snowbound Ghouls, Cryo Sirens, and many more.
**Godkiller—Fringe Element**
Ember didn't wait to see the fiery flames that erupted behind as she ran as hard as her little legs could carry her while she cradled her little sister, Freya.
She ran; even as the fear that her head would roll next lingered in her heart.
Explosions sounded behind her. Her mother's screams followed. Then her coven's screams followed as well.
She felt hotness scorching her back—her people were burning in the very flames that they practiced and wielded for twenty centuries. And without looking back, she knew they protected her—no, Freya—even though they knew it would cost their life.
Fighting an unmatched enemy, it seemed they never stood a chance of victory in the first place.
An Echo Witch like her stood no chance all the more. Which was why as she reached the tunnel in the safe room, her hands darted out dragging a befuddled Conjurer Witch. She was C-Rank, but still far better than Ember.
Inside the tunnel, Ember thrusted the child to the middle-aged witch who stared at her with eyes widened from shock. Ember picked up a long stick, tearing a piece of her cloth and tying the stick firmly to her hand until she was one with the weapon.
"Use your magic and sharpen the point for me!" She snapped at the witch who was still rooted in shock from bone deep fear.
Flinching at the unusual harshness in Ember's tone since she was afterall considered a servant even though she was the daughter of the High Priestess, the witch nonetheless did as she was told. She muttered a spell and the other end of the stick sharpened instantly.
"Your High Priestess fights to the death! Cowering and fearing at this time will result to a thousand cuts to your soul even after your death!" Ember growled, trying hard to infuse authority to her words.
It worked for the witch perked up, cradling the child to herself. "What shall you have me do, Emb… I mean, Heiress?"
"You must tie Freya to you. The portalling spell that the Knight of Debts use will take them twenty minutes from creation to execution. The High Priestess must have used magic to notify them back when we were still in the Labour Room so I reckon we have ten minutes at most."
The woman nodded vigorously while Ember looked at her with a withering stare. "We must hold out for ten minutes. Do you understand?"
The witch understood well for she swaddled the child to her front, tying Freya to her with the swaddle clothes. Far behind them, Ember heard the low growl of monsters. Even if they had to fight they needed to do it somewhere in the open. Fighting in the tunnel will lead to their swift death.
"What is your name?" Ember asked the woman.
"I am Kris, Heiress. Of the AshWood family."
"Kris AshWood, will you protect Freya with everything in you?"
"I will!"
Ember held out the stick tied to her hand, and together they made it to the end of the tunnel that led to the outside world beyond the palace, and as they quite anticipated, monsters waited for them.
About three Glacier Orcs and two Frost Drakes, the fifth gate was indeed created of ice as the history books said. Hence the monsters there were made of extreme cold. Since they practiced fire magic, her coven would have been able to handle them easily. But unexpectedly, there was the Fallen One—Rashel.
Ember stepped in front of Kris, holding the stick out before her. The scene was comical—her barely five feet frame against a ten feet monster and a flying monster.
Death was here— she could hear it whispering at her even as she and Kris fought in a race against time as they waited for the immortal Knight of Debts.
Ten minutes had never seemed as long as it did.
She smelt death even as the Frost Drake breathed ice on her, the frost slamming against her bad shoulders and causing her to lose her footing.
She smelt death even as the Glacier Orcs slammed their ice hammer on her legs despite her pathetic attempts at using the sharp pointed stick against them.
It was barely two minutes in their countdown, yet it was abundantly clear that Kriss' magic would be hardly enough to fight the five monsters before them. Nor will her pathetic stick be able to do anything.
She smelt death even as the palace of the Azure Flames was engulfed in tongue-licking flames, plunging its inhabitants to death. More so when Kriss who had managed to kill one of the Glacier Orcs was picked up by a Frost Drake who carelessly tossed her and Freya somewhere far… somewhere out of sight.
Ember screamed, unable to move one leg and one hand as her sister drifted out of sight. She crawled in the direction they were tossed as if that could possibly erase the reality of their situation, which was the fact that they never stood a chance much less an hour old baby.
Yet she couldn't let go. If anyone deserved to make it out alive from their situation, then it was Freya. Her sister who never harmed the world. Her sister whom she thought she hated when in reality she never hated her for a day. Not even for a second.
Ember struggled against her reality—their reality, refusing to see through the flames that engulfed her environs and the palace. Refusing to believe Freya had been ruthlessly killed just like that, she crawled towards the flame engulfed direction she had been tossed. That was until one of the Glacier Orcs slammed his hammer on her head, shattering her illusion.
Blood trickled down to her eyes, muddying her vision. Her once crawling body slumped fully to the ground, and she watched as her life slipped away from her like a fissure of light that should never have existed.
Bewildered as to how she had gone from begging for the acceptance of her coven, to now watching them and herself die, her eyes closed shut against the world, and the darkness they said came with death greeted her.
Was she already in the underworld? That was fast. In there, there was a painful kind of awareness sewn into the darkness.
But the darkness didn't last for long, instead it morphed into molten flames like the kind usually found in volcanoes. And from it emerged something… a monster perhaps.
It walked towards her with careless strides, bathed in fire and blood with its true features concealed by the shadows of the molten fire. The closer it walked to her, the more its features revealed to her, making her realize that she had been wrong.
No, it was no monster. It was the fallen god in his bloody glory while still gripping that strange bloody dagger of his. And he approached her like the god of death in charge of stealing souls.