At the end of the third day, as the sun dipped toward the horizon, a colossal fortress appeared before them. It was immediately clear why it bore its name. It stood at the very tip of the mountain. The approach led through two rows of impenetrable walls and massive gates that looked as if nothing could breach them. A true citadel.

  The snow?covered doors opened, and as they stepped through, they found themselves on the top of the main tower, just as they were used to. The high captains greeted one another. Afterward, the group descended a grand staircase, eventually reaching the vast courtyard behind the first wall, the place where they would stay. On closer inspection, the walls were reinforced with massive ice blocks. Viktor could see his reflection clearly as he walked by.

  The great hall was built from huge stone blocks, and in its center, Light streamed down through a hole in the domed ceiling, as was customary here. It radiated its warmth around. No cold or wind seeped in. All eight of them took their seats. Elion walked among the tables, chatting with members of his platoon.

  Mona hurried over with a tray of glasses.

  “So, here’s to serving in this frozen wasteland,” she said, raising her glass.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Vincent said, the tall blond man standing up and lifting his own. The others joined in. Mona always knew how to lift everyone’s spirits.

  Carlos was unusually quiet, his arm now only lightly bandaged. Mona nudged him in the shoulder:

  “Come on, don’t take it so hard! This is just another Tuesday for us,” she teased.

  “Yeah, I know, Mona. But you know what really gets to me? We train here for years, some of us for centuries, and then we get taken down by some baron. What’s the point of working ourselves to the bone if, without wings or a halo, we’re just meat for slaughter? We could be here a thousand years, still just searching for rifts and dying. It’s crazy, amiga.”

  For a moment, there was silence.

  “No, you’re wrong,” Yoshiro cut in firmly. “We’re doing noble work for the High Heavens. I’ll search, report, fight, and die at every rift until I’m worthy! That’s what we have to remember. Once, I would have sacrificed anything just to please my shogun, all for the sake of what he called honor, but sometimes we put our trust in the wrong hands. Now we know that everything we do is for the greater good! And there’s no nobler service than this!” He raised his sake. The others joined him.

  Carlos shifted and raised his glass as well.

  “I know, I know,” he said, “but it still isn’t easy. Watching your brothers get thrown through the air...”

  “The rift was closed; you did excellent work,” Vincent said.

  It was time to ask something. “Baron?” Viktor inquired.

  Werner grinned: “Yeah, a higher-level demon. The kind even scrubs like us can take down, with a whole squad, a lieutenant, and God’s help. If you didn’t know which one it was, it was the guy with the hammer.” He winked at Viktor and laughed.

  Altan grew serious. A compact man of Mongolian origin, with slightly darker skin and a thin moustache, he fixed Viktor with a steady look. “You’ve surely encountered several demons already. Do you remember the fall of the Fifth Gate?”

  Viktor nodded thoughtfully.

  Altan continued, “In Hell, each faction has its own type of demonic creatures; they breed, mutate, and crossbreed. In battle, you always have to analyze your opponent. That big demon that charged us yesterday was a baron. Don’t take Werner seriously; he was just blustering.” He waved his hand.

  “We were caught unprepared; ordinarily we take one of those down without any losses. They usually wield a single weapon and rely on brute strength. The hounds that you saw before were also different from the ones we encountered yesterday.” He twirled his mustache while speaking.

  “At the White Fortress you could also witness disgusting caterpillars, the askaras; that’s another product of those mutations.” Altan swallowed hard and would have spat if he’d had anywhere to do it.

  They stayed up a while longer, but after three days of travel and the last battle, fatigue and the need for sleep overcame them.

  Days passed, gradually turning into months. They patrolled daily, closed small rifts, and grew familiar with the frozen wastes. Hans and Artur rejoined the group, and time slipped by. The routine here was different: they trained less and patrolled the vast surroundings. They had to stay constantly alert to avoid freezing; even with good clothing, they could only endure the extreme cold for a limited time. Not even their Lumions could keep them warm forever.

  One day, they received orders to scout a section far to the south. Radion led the entire unit, landing and taking off, coordinating everyone’s movements. It was late afternoon as they walked through a snowy valley. Suddenly, a menacing laugh echoed from the forest.

  Elion and Lorian shouted, “Form ranks! Spearmen to the fore; archers to the center. Loose... until the enemy closes, front ranks included.”

  Viktor, with his bow, waited in the second line. Carlos and Hans in front of him. Dark hellhounds burst from the forest, barking and charging straight at their defenses. Among them crawled two askaras, and an enormous baron forced his way forward. They fired until the enemy closed, then the front ranks shifted to shields and spears. The hounds hit the spear points; their howls, barks, and whines wailed through the air. The second wave edged along the flanks, but the shield wall held.

  They cut them down one after another. The askaras darted around in the distance, looking for a weakness in the defense. The baron, however, pushed straight through. He swung his hammer at the defenders, but a horn of Light lanced down from above, hammered his spine, and bent him backward in a shockwave.

  The demon didn’t have time to recover. An angel landed on his chest in a flash and drove a blade through his neck. The angel launched back into the air as the demon’s eyes rolled, and the creature crashed to the ground on its back. The askaras, seeing this, stopped, hissing and screeching, watching for the next attack from above. The hounds still couldn’t break through the formation. Viktor stabbed one after another from behind his comrades. The enemy numbers dwindled.

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  In the background, however, the forest began to burn; black flames and thick smoke rose toward the sky. A bolt of black flames flashed through the trees. After a moment of silence, they saw a body falling from the clouds: it was Radion. He hit the ground hard, creating a small crater, and the hounds immediately turned and charged toward him.

  “Swords! To the captain!” the lieutenants shouted.

  When the askaras saw the fallen angel, they rushed toward him. Their legs scraped in a dry, rubbing hiss as they moved across the snow.

  The lieutenants split up, each charging an askara.

  “Fourth and Seventh squads, with me! The rest, protect the captain!” Elion shouted.

  “Third and Ninth squads, with me!” Lorian commanded.

  Viktor fought his way across the battlefield toward Radion, slashing at anything in his path. Suddenly a shockwave hit as a massive force detonated; seven recruits were thrown off their feet and torn limbs blew across the snow.

  What on earth was that? For a heartbeat he froze. Then he pushed forward. They had to keep moving to help the captain.

  He was just a short dash away. With a broken wing, Radion was still cutting down enemies, his sword shining with bright Light. Finally, they managed to reach him and form a circle around him.

  Viktor noticed a dark spear protruding from Radion’s shoulder, black energy rising from it, similar to what was spreading from the burning forest. The captain tried to hold the line, swinging his sword, but another spear flew in, exploded against his shield, knocked the sword away, and severed his hand at the wrist. The captain roared in pain.

  Despairing, Viktor looked around the battlefield. His lieutenant was already returning with reinforcements. Then Viktor noticed something strange, as if Elion could channel some of the Light into his legs and move faster. With the second askara, the situation was different: Lorian had fallen under a blow from a black spear, but another guardian with a halo was present! They were fighting off constant attacks from the hounds, and a deep, malicious laughter echoed from the forest.

  When Elion reached them, he looked around. For a moment, he closed his eyes, his spear glowed, and he pointed it toward the sky. A bright beam shot upward, disappearing into the clouds, then Elion fell to his knees. Viktor fought with all his strength; there were only about fifty of them left, and their lieutenant was down, gathering his strength. The captain was still trying to hold the line with his shield.

  “Close ranks! Stay together, keep the defensive formation!” Altan ordered.

  At that moment, the remnants of two more squads reinforced them from behind. Among the newcomers, Viktor spotted the figure with a halo; looking closer, he recognized Lindi.

  A sharp, cold, menacing laugh echoed through the valley. Viktor had never experienced anything like it; the sound reverberated among the trees like a dark omen. A black flame shot up from the forest, and within it, a silhouette appeared, walking straight toward them.

  “Fools! No one will save you!” the demon roared, his voice echoing through the trees, his laughter ringing in their ears. “Your captain shatters. Your lieutenant is next. One awakened means nothing.” Lindi ran to them and brought a little hope. “Come on. We will not lose here. All of you, to formation! For the Eternal Light!” The demon stretched out his hand and, with a single motion, sent a spear through the formation, striking Lindi straight in the heart. She stood with her sword raised, a hole the size of a soccer ball in her chest; her eyes rolled as she collapsed to the ground.

  For a moment, a chilling silence fell; everyone’s eyes fixed on their fallen comrade.

  Yoshiro was the first to recover, shouting:

  “Hold the line! Protect the captain and the lieutenant! There’s nowhere to retreat! Remember your oaths!”

  More hellhounds burst from the forest and began attacking the defensive formation. Another spear flew through the air; eight more guardians fell. Viktor swung his sword, slashing left and right, while even the last archers were forced to draw their swords.

  “Hope is useless! Run!” the demon thundered.

  He stared ahead and saw the fiery figure readying another attack. But in a flash of light, a black hand holding a spear crashed to the ground, and a high angel appeared beside him.

  “Vesaria!” Viktor breathed; his eyes widened.

  More hellhounds and askaras swarmed from the forest, but two more angels landed in front of Viktor’s group. Swords whistled through the air, and askaras hissed under the blows of angelic weapons. Arion burst into the formation, quickly carrying the wounded Radion to safety. Elion, struggling to stand, rallied and shouted:

  “Fall back! Clear the field! Do not get in the captains’ way!”

  Vesaria and Synaa were locked in a furious battle with the fiery figure. The high captains' attacks were devastating. Shards of rock flew in all directions, explosions mingled with the demon’s fiery strikes. Vesaria fought alongside another angel, their weapons shifting in their hands with ease and precision thanks to their Lumions.

  The demon tore through his back, and huge burning wings spread behind him. He soared into the air with Vesaria, but immediately crashed back to the ground in a series of tremors and explosions. Flames engulfed the surrounding forest, and the battlefield was transformed beyond recognition.

  The captains began organizing a retreat. He fought his way out, finishing off the last hellhounds. Ahead of him were Artur and Hans, with Yassin and Werner running at his side.

  When he looked back, he saw the fiery demon flying straight at him, landing way too close. Two captain?shafts punched through his chest and eye. With a roar, the demon began to swell. He froze. A voice shouted, “Get out of there!”

  I need to move!

  But he hesitated too long. A gigantic explosion detonated, engulfing him in flames.

  When he regained consciousness, he was alone. He found himself in the underground chambers beneath the main tower, where a lake stretched out before him. Everything around him was quiet; light from the branch bathed the surface and the walls. Above it floated pale blue boughs, from which dozens of guardians were being reborn. He was soaking wet. His little light swept to his side.

  After a moment, he dried off, grabbed his Lumion, and pulled on his winter clothes. He hurried across courtyard and straight to the barracks. He watched his footing carefully on the icy stairs. Inside his squad was already waiting. Only four survivors sat at one of the tables. Elion approached from the neighboring table to speak with them. As soon as Viktor sat, the lieutenant patted him on the shoulder.

  “You really took your time, huh?!” he joked. “Your regeneration took almost four whole weeks. Not bad!”

  “How did we do?” Viktor asked.

  Artur handed him a beer from behind him, discreetly placing it in front of him.

  “Everyone did excellently,” Elion praised. “We managed to drive off the high demon and lost only eighty guardians and two lieutenants.”

  “Only?” Viktor slammed his fist on the table. “We got wiped out!”

  “Weeell... I disagree,” Elion said, shaking his head. “As you know, bringing guardians back under these conditions usually takes a month. We won’t see the lieutenants for a year. But Ifrit will be gone for more than fifty years, and on top of that, his djinn will fight among themselves, causing wars and more losses on their side. So in the long run, we actually won this battle.”

  He watched the foam settle in his mug. Elion’s words made sense, but his mind was swirling with other thoughts. He needed to become stronger, or his actions would be meaningless. Sure, he could keep cutting down small beasts forever, but the impact was minimal; he needed to do more.

  His mind drifted to his family and the fate of everyone back on Earth. Eight billion souls were frozen in time, their future hanging in the balance. Which side would win in the end? The weight of responsibility pressed on him. Yet even now, he still couldn’t control his own dreams.

  With these thoughts, he stood up. “Sorry, I’m going to lie down,” he said, leaving the table without touching his beer. He needed to clear his head first. The showers in the fortress were communal; everyone waited their turn, but this time the halls were quiet, and he could lose himself in his thoughts. He sat in the shower stall for a long time, thinking, wrestling with his thoughts. Lindi's face flashed before him, that final defiant stance before the spear struck.

  The last days of his life replayed before him...