The dark portal consumed them like a living thing.

  One heartbeat Clark stood amidst Crytharion's smoldering ruins, watching the Triple Abominations loom victorious over the shattered ice plains. The next—an endless freefall through screaming darkness, Queen Nyxia and Queen Titania's limp forms tumbling alongside him through the void. The dimensional passage tore at his very essence, stretching his consciousness across realities until—

  —iron bit into his wrists.

  Clark gasped awake to chains forged from cosmic frost, their touch burning with anti-energy. His vision swam into focus on a nightmare made flesh—a whip-wielding shadow creature whose form constantly dissolved and reformed at the edges.

  **"Rise, sun-drinker,"** the jailer hissed, its lash of condensed voidspace cracking across Clark's shoulders. The pain blossomed cold rather than hot, spreading numbness through his muscles.

  The mines of Brimstone stretched before them—an endless underworld of jagged obsidian tunnels illuminated only by the dying light of captive stars embedded in the walls like grotesque trophies. The air hung thick with the stench of sulfur and something darker, a metallic tang that coated the tongue. All around, skeletal figures from countless conquered worlds and galaxies swung pickaxes at the throbbing black rock, their hollow eyes reflecting no hope.

  Clark's body rebelled as he forced himself upright. Without sunlight, his cells starved—each movement dragged as if through liquid stone. The absence of Magnificent in his right hand, Devastation at his hip, left him feeling dismembered.

  A weak groan came from his left. Nyxia stirred, her once-gleaming frost armor now fractured and dull. **"Clark...?"** The Ice Queen's voice sounded fragile—a thing Clark had never heard before.

  To his right, Titania coughed up something golden. **"Welcome to hell!,"** she rasped, her vibrant vines now gray and withered.

  The shadow-jailer's whip snapped again, splitting the air like thunder. **"Work or starve!"**

  The labor was torture. The black stone resisted every strike, vibrating with malignant energy that jolted up the pickaxe handles. Clark's skin began developing areas of deathly pale complexion where sunlight deprivation ate at his Armageddonian physiology.

  **Day Unknown** (Time lost meaning in the pitch blackness)

  Nyxia's legs gave out during an ore haul. Clark barely caught her before she hit the jagged ground—her body frighteningly light, like hollow ice.

  **"This is how they break worlds,"** she whispered through cracked lips. **"Slowly. Thoroughly."**

  Titania studied their surroundings with a tactician's eye despite her weakened state. **"The guards change at regular intervals,"** she murmured, nodding toward a distant tunnel where the glow seemed marginally brighter. **"And I'd wager my last vine that path leads upward."**

  Clark clenched his fists, feeling the unfamiliar weakness in his limbs. No sunlight. No weapons. Just the fading ember of his will. And his fading powers that still remained. Yet, even shadows could move unseen.

  When the mines fell into their version of night (marked only by the dimming of the wall-embedded stars), Clark waited until the other slaves' breathing deepened. Then his whisper cut through the dark:

  **"We must get to the light. Find my weapons.

  It's our only chance."**

  Nyxia's mercury-colored eyes glinted in the gloom. **"And if what awaits is worse than this?"**

  Clark's grin was all teeth and no warmth.

  **"Then we’ll be too dead to care!”**

  Far away, in the war-torn Voorhees galaxy they'd left behind, the last glaciers of Crytharion wept their final tears. The remaining Frost Revenants made their stand at the Heartfrost Vault, buying precious moments for the civilians hidden deep below with the currency of their lives.

  And deep in the belly of Brimstone, three sets of chains were snapped in the dark.

  **The King in Chains**

  The chains exploded like frozen lightning under Clark's desperate surge of power.

  One heartbeat - three broken rulers stood shackled in darkness. The next - shadows themselves seemed to part before them as they slipped through Brimstone's jagged arteries. Clark moved with the silent precision of a predator, his solar-starved muscles screaming with every step. Nyxia's weakened frost magic coiled around them like a spectral veil, masking their life-signatures. Titania's withered vines still carried their lethal sting - one brush against a guard's neck left him spasming silently into oblivion.

  They were nearly to the glowing passage when the voice stopped them cold:

  **"Take me with you... or drive a pick through my skull now."**

  The figure slumped against the obsidian wall was a ruin of what must have once been magnificent - a mountain of atrophied muscle that still hinted at terrifying power. His golden skin had turned corpse-gray, his regal features hollowed by endless torment. But the ice-blue eyes that locked onto Clark's blazed with undimmed fury.

  Clark didn't hesitate. The pickaxe in his hands flashed once - the chains fell away like dead snakes. **"Try not to slow us down."**

  The stranger rose like a thunderhead taking form, the crack of his vertebrae realigning echoing through the tunnels. **"You've just freed King Kaelos of the Krownose Dominion,"** he rumbled, rubbing wrists scarred by celestial shackles. **"This debt will be paid in the currency of shattered worlds."**

  Nyxia's breath caught. **"The Storm of Xandros?"**

  A horrific wail split the air - the alarm horns of Brimstone.

  **"Save the legends for later,"** Titania snapped as liquid darkness began seeping toward them from both tunnel ends.

  The four rulers ran toward the growing light, their footsteps echoing ahead of the howling pursuit. The tunnel climbed steeply, the air thickening with heat and something else - a vibration Clark felt in his bones.

  His weapons were calling.

  They burst into a chamber of nightmares. A hundred star-forges pulsed like diseased hearts, each manned by emaciated smiths hammering weapons from the same cursed ore they'd mined below. And there, upon an altar of frozen voidstone at the chamber's heart -

  **"Magnificent... Devastation..."** Clark's voice was raw.

  The weapons lay crossed upon the dais, surrounded by six Abomination guards whose forms flickered between solid and shadow.

  King Kaelos rolled his shoulders, the first sparks of storm-energy crackling between his fingers. **"The left three smell like they'll scream prettiest."**

  Nyxia's staff bloomed with hoarfrost, the temperature plummeting. **"I'll silence the middle two."**

  Titania's remaining vines coiled like golden serpents. **"Which leaves me the ugliest bastard of the lot."**

  Then Clark felt it - the first golden ray of true sunlight spilling through a fissure high above. It kissed his skin like a lover's touch, and after weeks of starvation, his cells drank it greedily. Power surged through his veins as he smiled for the first time since Crytharion.

  The Abominations never stood a chance.

  **"Now we go home,"** Titania gasped as the last guard dissolved into screaming shadow.

  Clark stared at the hundreds of broken souls still chained to forges. His voice was steel. **"We're not leaving them."**

  The others exchanged glances - then moved as one. Nyxia's frost shattered manacles while Titania's vines distributed stolen weapons. Kaelos tore through restraints with bare hands, his storm-energy overloading portal stones to send freed slaves home.

  When the last prisoner vanished through shimmering light, the four rulers stood amid the ruined forge. No words were needed as they clasped arms - warriors who had become something more in the dark.

  Then one by one, they stepped through their own portals - not to endings, but to wars yet to come.

  Thirteen Ashes of Winter**

  The portal deposited them into a graveyard of ice.

  Clark's boots crunched through frozen rubble that had once been Crytharion's diamond spires. The air still carried the ozone stench of the Abominations' passage, but the creatures themselves were gone. Only their destruction remained—miles of shattered glaciers, the skeletal remains of frost citadels, and the eerie silence of a kingdom that had once echoed with crystalline harmonies.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Nyxia fell to her knees, her fingers digging into the permafrost. **"All of it... gone."** Her voice was the cracking of thin ice over dark water.

  Titania's vines, freshly restored by sunlight, brushed gently against the Ice Queen's shoulder. **"Not all."** She pointed toward the horizon where a single structure stood intact—the Heartfrost Vault, its obsidian doors still sealed. **"Your people survived."**

  Clark scanned the devastation, his enhanced senses picking up the story written in the ruins. **"They fought among themselves,"** he murmured, kicking over a frozen chunk of blackened armor—an Abomination's carapace. **"See the scorch patterns? Void-fire against antimatter. They turned on each other."**

  A weak voice called from a nearby ice tunnel. A Frost Revenant emerged, his living armor half-melted, dragging a makeshift sled of survivors. **"My Queen..."** he gasped. **"They argued over which kingdom to ravage next—Heliosia's sun or Armageddon's forges. When none would yield... they left angry as exploding galaxies."**

  Nyxia's hands trembled as she took in her shattered people—children with frostbitten cheeks, warriors missing limbs, elders carrying the frozen bodies of those who hadn't made it to the vault in time.

  Clark knelt beside her, Devastation's head sinking into the ice. **"We stay until Crytharion stands again."**

  Titania was already summoning vines from the few surviving world-seeds in her pouch. **"Sylvanor will send builders. Living timber that grows in ice. We'll—"**

  **"No."** Nyxia stood abruptly, her frost armor reforming in jagged spikes. **"Not timber. Not pity."** Her mercury eyes burned with refrozen fury. **"We rebuild *stronger*. With weapons in every spire. With fortifications that will make the Abominations choke on their next assault."**

  A slow grin spread across Clark's face. He hefted Devastation onto his shoulder. **"Now *that's* the Ice Queen I remember."**

  From the vault doors, a chorus of weak cheers rose as Nyxia's people recognized their ruler. Clark watched as she strode toward them, back straight, already barking orders for reconstruction.

  Titania moved to stand beside him. **"She'll make them pay, you know."**

  Clark's grip tightened on Magnificent's hilt. **"We all will."**

  Above them, the shattered ice mirrors of Crytharion's ruins reflected their faces a thousand times—a fractured army ready for war.

  **The Fruits Of Her Labor**

  Two lunar cycles after the liberation of Brimstone, a crystalline invitation found Clark on the battlefields of Armageddon—engraved in frostscript that melted if anyone but him touched it.

  The Intrepid Ice Star loomed before him like a dream given form. Nyxia's winter palace floated three thousand feet above Crytharion's rebuilt spires, its diamond-hard superstructure supported by anti-gravity generators hidden within glacial pillars. The entire edifice pulsed with soft blue light—snowflakes frozen mid-fall around its towers in permanent suspension.

  **"Welcome to the new Crytharion,"** murmured Silkellyah, Nyxia's royal advisor. The willowy woman's frostweave robes shimmered with embedded data streams as she led Clark across the bridge of solidified air. **"Her Majesty's... upgrades proved most efficient."**

  Clark's enhanced vision catalogued the defenses:

  - Sentinel towers with barrels of compressed absolute zero

  - Pulse emitters disguised as ice sculptures

  - The entire palace perimeter thrumming with contained singularity fields

  - Antimatter Block Cannons buried beneath the palace grounds

  Stepping into the grand dining hall, Clark found himself in awe of the surroundings. The towering arches of living ice above him created a cathedral-like atmosphere, with holographic auroras dancing across the walls, seamlessly transitioning from displays of sheer beauty to tactical prowess. The table itself was a marvel, crafted from a single quantum-reinforced glacier, its surface swirling with cosmic nebulas trapped within. Every element of the room, from the chairs to the goblets to the cutlery, emanated a sense of deadly allure—a subtle reminder that this palace was more than just a haven of luxury, but a formidable war machine cloaked in artistic disguise.

  In that moment, Nyxia emerged from the ethereal frost mists, her presence commanding attention. Clad in armor that seemed a fluid melding of living ice and nano-forged alloys, she exuded a regal yet dangerous aura. Instead of a conventional crown of gold or jewels, she bore a circlet containing a miniature black hole captured within a force cage.

  **"You have truly created a paradise,"** Clark remarked, taking the drink offered by Silkellyah—its temperature an intriguing blend of steaming heat and icy coldness.

  **"A paradise with teeth,"** Nyxia corrected, her gaze meeting his. With a graceful gesture, she revealed the Heartfrost Vault below, now protected by pulsating energy shields. **"Come. There is much to discuss."**

  In that moment, amidst the intricate tapestry of power and beauty, a subtle undercurrent of mutual intrigue seemed to spark between Clark and the Ice Queen.

  In the breathtakingly luxurious dining hall of the Intrepid Ice Star, Clark and Queen Nyxia found themselves immersed in a sumptuous banquet befitting royalty. Their palates were tantalized by exotic dishes and fine wines from the winter menu, each bite a harmonious fusion of savory spices, velvety creams, succulent meats, and vibrant vegetables. The opulent feast mirrored the grandeur of their surroundings, creating an unforgettable culinary experience.

  With practiced skill, Queen Nyxia's slender fingers skillfully manipulated concealed controls, causing the shimmering auroras above them to shift and unveil a celestial tapestry of troubling developments unfolding across the galaxy:

  - The relentless Empress Gahdiva intensifying Steel Magnus' weapon production threefold.

  - The ominous fleets of the Trojan Order gathering near the Heliosia system.

  - Mysterious energy surges emanating from the enigmatic Dark Zone.

  **"They are all preparing,"** Nyxia mused softly. **"But for what purpose?"**

  Clark's gaze gravitated toward the vault's display. **"I am not entirely sure,"** he responded thoughtfully, pondering her question. **"Perhaps they sense whatever it is that you are safeguarding beneath us."**

  A sudden chill permeated the air, prompting Silkellyah to discreetly signal the guards to withdraw.

  **"What I safeguard, Clark, is known as the Progenitor,"** Nyxia disclosed in a hushed tone, her words barely audible. **"Contrary to popular belief, it is not merely dormant—it is dreaming. And its dreams... are altering our reality."**

  Outside the crystalline windows, Clark noticed the suspended snowflakes were no longer perfect hexagons. Some had developed too many points. Others pulsed like tiny hearts.

  ---

  **Interlude: The Watching Thrones**

  In Solaris' molten war room, Empress Gahdiva watched Clark's arrival via spy drones that dissolved immediately after transmitting.

  **"She arms him with secrets, their relationship deepens!”**the Empress hissed to her council. **"While we—"**

  A hologram of Soltheron materialized, his golden mask reflecting the frozen palace. **"The Heartfrost's power is not hers to wield. Nor yours."** His gaze shifted to Clark's figure. **"Nor his."**

  Gahdiva's fingers morphed into deadly claws and extended. **"Then why do you hesitate?"**

  The High Radiant's image flickered with barely contained fury. **"Because we don't destroy a supernova while standing in its blast radius."**

  As the transmission cut, Gahdiva's war machines continued their relentless production—each one bearing the serpent sigil of Steel Magnus. And the hunger behind her eyes for both power and Clark grew sharper.

  **Fire and Frost**

  The Intrepid Ice Star's observation spire had become their private sanctuary. Clark watched as Queen Nyxia's fingers traced glowing tactical maps across the frozen table, her frost-kissed breath mingling with the steam rising from his solar-warmed drink. The contrast between them—his heat, her cold—was a silent testament to the fragile balance they had forged.

  **"The Progenitor's dreams grow more violent,"** she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid the words themselves might stir the sleeping titan. The holographic display zoomed in, revealing the Dark Zone's jagged dimensional borders creeping outward like ink bleeding through parchment. **"Last night it... stirred in restless dreams."** Her fingers trembled, just slightly, before she clenched them into a fist. **"My scientists reported simultaneous earthquakes on seven worlds. Seven."**

  Clark caught her hand mid-gesture, his fingers wrapping around hers. His thumb brushed over the pale, raised scars along her knuckles—remnants of Brimstone, of the fire she had walked through to save her people. He didn’t let go.

  **"What exactly is the Progenitor, in truth?"** he asked, his voice low but unyielding.

  Queen Nyxia's steely exterior thawed ever so slightly in response to Clark's probing question, a hint of vulnerability glinting in her stormy gray eyes. It was a rare glimpse behind the walls of regal poise she typically maintained with ironclad precision. In that moment, she felt a twinge of gratitude towards Clark, whose unwavering loyalty had been proven time and time again on the battlefield against the Abominations, where he had risked life and limb to come to her and her kingdom's aid. The bond forged in the crucible of conflict had deepened their trust in each other, laying the groundwork for a partnership that transcended mere duty, evolving into a powerful alliance that extended beyond the realms of war into the mysteries that now unfolded before them.

  The spire’s ambient hum seemed to hush, as if the universe itself leaned in to listen.

  **”The Progenitor is... an enigma, Clark,"** she admitted, her gray eyes holding his with startling vulnerability. **"A being woven from the threads of creation itself. Some say she is the first dream of the cosmos—the thought that gave shape to reality."** The holograms shuddered, distorting as if recoiling from her words. **"But dreams can turn to nightmares. And hers... are bleeding into our world."**

  Clark didn’t flinch. His grip on her hand tightened, an anchor in the storm of her revelation. **"We'll keep her caged,"** he vowed, his voice rough with conviction. **"Or kill her. Together."**

  Nyxia didn’t pull away. For the first time in centuries, someone had seen the dread coiled beneath her ribs—and promised to stand against it. The ice around them pulsed, not with cold, but with something warmer, something alive.

  Then—

  The alarms shattered the moment.

  Every siren in the palace screamed at once, a cacophony of urgency that sent the holograms sputtering into chaos. The walls trembled. Nyxia’s eyes snapped to the viewport, where the distant stars seemed to flicker—not like light through atmosphere, but like a screen glitching.

  Something was wrong.

  Something or someone was here.

  Sunborn in Flames**

  The Trojan Order's fortress-world of Photis Prime burned with unnatural fire. The Triple Abominations descended like falling stars—horrifying shadow filaments sliced through solar priests, the Warlord's singularity fists crushing temples, the Scholar rewriting their advanced defenses into suicidal commands.

  Soltheron stood atop the Sun Spire, his mask cracked, watching his empire crumble. **"This is Gahdiva's doing,"** he rasped to Veylis. **"Her newly acquired dimensional weapons tore holes they're crawling through."**

  A new shadowy figure arose before them—the Progenitor's nightmare given form: an Abomination with Clark's form and Devastation's screaming echoes woven into its flesh.

  **"We should have killed it when we had the chance,"** Veylis whispered.

  ---

  **The Serpent's Gambit**

  Empress Gahdiva admired her reflection in Project Ouroboros' core—a swirling vortex of stolen void-energy contained within her throne.

  **"Let the Abominations soften them up,"** she purred to her generals. **"Then we take the frozen whore's vault, Clark's loyalty..."** Her claws punctured the hologram of Nyxia's face. **"...and the Progenitor's power for ourselves."**

  Her scientists trembled as they activated the final phase—the drones weren't just weapons. They were keys. Keys to something even the Abominations feared.

  ---

  **The Breaking Point**

  Back in Crytharion, Clark and Nyxia stood back-to-back in the Heartfrost chamber as the walls *breathed* wrong. The Progenitor's cryo-pod had developed cracks—not from outside force, but from something pushing *out* from within.

  Nyxia's ice met Clark's solar flare in a desperate containment field. **"She’s waking!"**

  Outside, the sky tore open. First came Gahdiva's serpent drones. Then the Abominations. And finally—from the deepest rift—something that made even the Triple Abominations kneel.

  Clark gripped Devastation as the hammer recognized a new threat growing from the Progenitor's chest.

  **"Oh hell,"** he muttered.

  The pod shattered.