NORTHERN GLACIERS - DAY FIVE OF EXPEDITION
"I can't feel my FACE."
Our team scholar—a young man named THOMAS—was shivering despite three layers of furs. His lips were BLUE. His breath came in icy clouds.
"That's FROSTBITE setting in," our medic warned. "We need to make CAMP. Soon. Or we lose people to exposure."
I looked at the endless expanse of ICE and SNOW. We'd been trekking for five days. Following Ezra's coordinates. Searching for ancient Consortium RUINS supposedly hidden in the glaciers.
So far? NOTHING. Just ice. Wind. DEATH waiting around every corner.
"There!" One of the soldiers pointed ahead. "Is that—"
A structure. Barely visible through the BLIZZARD. Dark stone jutting from ice.
"That's it," I said. "The ruins. Move OUT!"
We trudged forward. Every step EXHAUSTING. The wind trying to TEAR us apart.
