The Mark of Aether

The Gate

Darkness bathed us, trailing shadows across our eyes. Cold ate at my bones, consuming every bit of warmth and strength. And, even as the world seemed to stop, as life didn't trickle anymore, I could feel myself moving.

But not by will.

Hands had swirled around my ankles and wrists, forcefully pulling me into a darkness I never wished for. As distance ran short, light crawled through blackness.

Like fire to my eyes, a frozen beam blared in whatever world we had reached. A realm bathed in ice, frost, and nothing kin to time. As directions shifted, winds died and whispers vanished. Nothing but a calm and killing blur of space and time.

It was until the land groaned underneath did we took notice of what frozen hell we had fallen to.

Pulling myself to my feet, it cost me all my strength to keep my balance straight. Numbness had shot through my nervous system like a spreading disease. And while my heart threatened to stop at any passing moment, my brain already gave away.

Gave away the moment my eyes fell upon what laid beneath me.

Occupying one leaf, we stood small on the pharaonic, iced tree. Laced with ice pure as glass, thin layers of snow dust cloaked the trunk, the branches, and the frozen leaves.

A sight beautifully cold.

The cold sun did nothing but cast brightness, rays swirled on the glassy surface, uncovering what hid behind this iciness.

Into endlessness beauty, their eyes appealed. One by one, they peered from behind leaves and branches, each settling nigh pools of glowing lights. Pools and ponds I failed to realize before as too much captivated me. As some more emerged from those rippling lights-- the gates located between the roots, piercing through the trunk, and sealed against massive leaves-- I became aware of Luthian's warning.

''A masked hell,'' he referred to the disarming souls spread around, ''a curse upon the living. Deadly guardians.''

''Which pond is our gate?'' asked Leon, never once meeting the eyes of the one that called his name. Her voice, a whisper from heaven. A lullaby to death. And little justice did the word angelic gave her. Gave all of them.

Cold and beautiful. It was what those cerulean eyes sang, each blink, each shy glance, a heart-tearing comeliness. Hair the color of morning light cascaded down their shoulders to their ankles, flowing like soft waves against the stirring wind.

A wind I knew should not exist.

As those sirens called our names, sang us promises of peace and eternality, it became harder to look behind.

''Each pond is a mirror to its gate. Search for our one, and beware. It won't be long before the second face appears.''

And with no more provided, Luthian started descending the frozen twirls and turns, the branches serving as our bridges.

As time still trickled in Ardoria, we had to move fast. Fast enough to succeed before the end of the solstice. Fast enough to make it before the end of our era.

And as I carefully made it from one side to the other, peering into the shaped lights, I scoured. But so easy it was to last.

As heavens and Hades flipped turns, beauty turned to incarnate beast. From the delightful whispers emerged a bone chilling growl. Then another. And more followed. Growls and groans that held venom in their splits. That dripped with death and darkness in every listening heart.

Vanished were the aesthetician eyes and pleasant faces. Instead, like wicked souls from hell, devils greeted us. Where charm and daintiness once flooded, noxiousness overruled. From those dark eyes, evil sprinted. From those razor teeth, blood dripped. Disheveled and pale faces of hunger lunged at us.