Varien surveyed his surroundings. The air was bitterly cold, chilling his lungs with each breath, but the thicket of ice crystals that sprouted on either side of the bridge was shot through with networks of superheated crystals that glowed a dull red. Absent any obvious threat, Varien plumbed the depths of his healing reserves to close the wounds opened up by the ambushers in Manycats Alley. His burns disappeared and his strength returned. “Fiendsbane, any idea where we are?” Varien asked his sword. “I can smell the Hells,” Fiendsbane replied, a slight ringing in the paladin’s ears. Varien called upon his divine sense and recoiled as the stench of evil seemed to assault his senses from all angles. “I can smell it as well, my friend,” he said. “But hark!” Varien could still hear the fading sound of a scream echoing from parts further south. Gripping his sword, he moved forward across the half-worked, half-ruined crystal pathway through the cavern. Fiendsbane cast an aura of light around him. “I sense something in this direction,” Fiendsbane said telepathically to Varien. The sword dipped its blade south. Varien could feel the sword vibrating in his hand as he walked forward. The ground also oscillated with a deep basso hum he could feel through the soles of his boots of striding and springing . The sustained echo of the anguished scream still rang in the ice-cold air. Something scuttled out from underneath the worked ice bridge and clawed its way towards Varien – a blue-skinned, bearded creature with horns of carved ice and a beard rimed in frost. The creature snarled malevolently. Fiendsbane’s oscillations were now becoming vocalized, a glossolalia of heavenly language that filled Varien’s head with inexplicable imagery of angel wings and unfiltered Glory. “Well, I don’t need any prompting in this regard,” Varien said, slashing at the creature and shoving it prone before striking it again with a savage overhand swing. The creature howled as the radiant energy of Varien’s sword strikes caused ice-encrusted flesh to melt from its bones. It let loose a string of curses in Infernal. Naughty language, that, Fiendsbane said in between bursts of heavenly tongues. Suddenly, from somewhere south of him, a loud bark caused the crystals all around Varien to vibrate. A single word spoken in Infernal hung heavily in the air. The icy devil cringed as through struck and stayed on all fours, bowing its head as it scuttled backwards like a hissing crab. Varien slashed at it as it tried to retreat, striking it again. The creature rolled its eyes in impotent fury as it took the full force of the hit, but made no attempt to attack in response. Varien shrugged and pressed the attack. “Infernals don’t receive my mercy,” he snarled. He laid the creature low with a radiant slash of his blade. The creature shattered into chunks of frozen gore that sublimated into vapour. “Now then,” Varien said as the creature’s blood boiled off Fiendsbane’s blade. “What was that shout about?” “It was not a shout; it was a command,” Fiendsbane replied, the sword’s oscillations becoming more agitated. “to the creature, to stand down.” “Interesting,” Varien said. “Why though?” “I do not know ,” Fiendsbane replied. Further south, stairs had been hewn into the crystal ground. Varien began to walk down. “Varien,” Fiendsbane said. “Regard those crystal growths hither and yon.” Varien nodded and moved to the nearest growth of ice crystals. “Hello, what’s this?” Entombed within each of the ice growths were humanoid shapes, mouths open in silent screams. “Very interesting,” Varien said, hacking at the nearest crystal with his sword. A fist-sized chunk split off the top of the crystal and skittered across the ground. As the paladin watched, the crystal began to regrow. “Huh, how about that,” he said. He reached down and picked up the ice crystal, feeling its unholy cold through his gauntlets. He pocketed the item. Varien ventured further south. The ice bridge led to a large cavern, a reddish light emanating from within. The light suggested heat, though the oppressive cold continued to hem him in on all sides. Inside, a stairway cut into the icy crystal led to a juncture of sorts where the red-hot crystals intersected into a sort of furnace, the dull glow from which was illuminating the otherwise ice-cold chamber. Varien saw an object just at the edge of Fiendsbane’s arc of holy light and tensed. Standing next to the superheated crystal furnace was a humanoid figure, hands outstretched in an effort to warm them over the hot surface. Puffs of icy breath collected overhead in a haze, as the fur-draped humanoid shivered. The creature half-turned to regard the paladin, looking over his shoulder. His features were human; handsome, his complexion milky-white, with a luxurious mane of black hair and a carefully-trimmed goatee. The man’s eyes, however, betrayed his inhumanity, twin pools of black-within-black that stared at Varien with the casual disregard of the truly ancient. “Ah,” the not-man said in a deep, mellifluous voice. “Varien Aether. What a pleasant happenstance. Come. Join me. I’ll make room – see if you have better luck warming up than I do.” Varien leaped across the room to close the distance between him and the speaker. “Hello there. Who speaks that knows my name?” “Who am I?” The humanoid replied. “Why, I have many names: Lord of the Fifth, The Frozen Prince. Usually my reputation precedes me – after all, my name is inscribed on the very sword you’re carrying. If we’re getting technical, you can call me The Aspect.” He turned back to warm himself. The sword began to repeat a mantra, increasing in speed and intensity and holy fervour. The Aspect began to speak the mantra as well, a sardonic smirk on his face as his voice echoed telepathically in Varien’s head. Seven devils in an Archfiend’s thrall; One by one answer their Dark Lord’s call; Loosed on the planes from the Cloven Hall; Fiendsbane has sworn to slaughter them all. It was clear to Varien that Fiendsbane was working himself up to something. Worse yet, Varien was realizing with a growing uneasiness that the man closely resembled his own father, Filean Aether. The Aspect was holding out his hands palm-first towards the heated crystal furnace in a vain attempt to warm them. He was wearing fine silken clothing and was bundled over in layers of heavy fur. Despite this, and despite its proximity to the heat source, the Aspect radiated a chill colder than the frozen crystals that surrounded them. His furs and hair glistened with ice crystals that refused to melt. Varien’s divine sense was again overloaded with the reek of evil so profound that it beggared description. Varien knew in his heart of hearts that he was standing in the presence of an Archfiend. “And Fiendsbane,” the Aspect said, “It looks as though the cold is getting to you, too.” Varien looked down. A thin coating of ice was beginning to form around Fiendsbane’s hilt and blade. The sword began to grow heavy and cold in Varien’s hands. Fiendsbane hissed a single word: “ LEVISTUS .” One of the runes on its blade glowed a dull red. “You should feel honoured, Varien Aether,” the Aspect said. “Usually when I visit someone it is at the moment of their greatest disaster, their last stand, their final desperate fleeting moments. But here we are. Make yourself comfortable.” He casually turned back to rub his hands over the crystal. Varien cast heroism on himself and said, “You would be wise not to turn your back to me, Fiend.” The Aspect chuckled. “Come now, Varien Aether, you would resort to violence when I just want to have a friendly conversation? How dreadfully predictable.” Slowly, the Aspect pulled back the heavy fur cloak that draped his silken form to reveal a rapier glowing red-hot like a poker in a sheath of pure quartz. “I don’t think we have much common ground to speak about,” Varien said coldly. “You say that,” the Aspect said with a smile. “But I think that we do. But think of it this way – I’m not really here, and neither are you, so let’s keep our swords sheathed for the time being, hmm?” Varien considered this. “This is an Aspect, a Projection of Levistus,” Fiendsbane said. “Levistus is entombed in an icy grave on Stygia.” “Well if you want to get technical, your sword speaks true,” Levistus added. “So you visit me but you don’t have the courage to make yourself vulnerable.” Levistus threw back his mane of hair and laughed uproariously. “You are quite a specimen, Varien Aether.” Varien leveled his sword at the Aspect. “And what is this?” he said, speaking of the Aspect’s appearance. “Is this your true countenance?” “I thought taking a form that you might be comfortable with might improve your mood,” the Aspect said. “Is that some sort of twisted joke?” Varien seethed. The Aspect continued to chuckle. “I seek humour where I may find it. But let’s talk business, Varien Aether. “Don’t make jokes, Levistus, you’re bad at it,” Varien said. “Oh, you wound me, Varien Aether, you really do,” Levistus said mockingly. “Speak then,” Varien said. “While you still draw breath.” “That’s the spirit!” the Aspect chortled, then his visage took on a look of mock-seriousness. ““It’s this Phoenix business, Varien. The Arcetalos is otherwise engaged at this point and it simply won’t do to free her right now. I have put her to work for a very good purpose, believe me.” Varien received a flash of Arcetalos trapped in her crystal prison, with panes of volcanic glass closing in around her. “I understand you wish to free her,” the Aspect continued. “And that is neither here nor there, I have no strong feelings one way or the other in a cosmic sense. But I would be happy to release her when she has completed her work. Perhaps one of your descendants can claim her. Maybe that provides you with some impetus to settle down, start a family, that sort of thing.” “I won’t let go that easily,” Varien said. “What are you saying?” The Aspect sighed. “I’m saying that perhaps we can come to an accord. You and I have something in common, Varien Aether. We are both experts with the blade. Perhaps you might be induced to put aside this silly quest to free the Arcetalos, if I were to procure for you Abaddon, the favoured weapon of the Fire in the North, for you to continue your father’s legacy? All options are on the table, Varien Aether. I know your fears and your deepest desires. I know of the quest for vengeance that animates you just like the dark necromantic blasphemies that animate those who stood in the Shade of Lorelei. I understand your motivation, your desire for revenge, believe me.” At this he looked over his shoulder and back to Varien. “Perhaps there is something I can do to help, hmm?” “You don’t know me,” Varien said. “Don’t I?” the Aspect replied. “The scared yet courageous young boy who stood at the docks of Lorelei until the very last moment, before the docks themselves were overrun in the hopes of seeing his family one last time? I know you as well as you know yourself, Varien Aether. Perhaps you’d like to walk the streets of your hometown again, free from the icy grip of the undead horde, to stoke the furnaces, to set things right and Make Lorelei Great Again.” In an instant, Varien, the Aspect, and Fiendsbane were standing in the streets of Lorelei, as though teleported. The Aspect looked about at the snowbound buildings that lined the city’s empty streets, their doorways hanging off frozen hinges to allow great drifts of snow entry within. “A nice place, if a little on the cold side. Reminds me of home. I can see why you like it.” “Lies and deception,” Varien hissed. “Every word I have spoken is true,” the Aspect said, all pretense of mockery vanished. “Then how would you get me Abaddon?” Varien asked. “How? Don’t concern yourself with the how, Varien Aether, all it would take is your signature on this.” An ice crystal thrust itself up from the ground in the street before Varien, and on it is inscribed a contract. “You would take me for a fool?” Varien asked. The Aspect chuckled a hollow chuckle. “Well, I would not expect you to sign it without reading it first,” he said expectantly. “This isn’t one of those, trade-your-soul-for-what-you-want type of agreements. I’m not necessarily after your soul, favoured though it may be by the Lady Firehair.” He smirked. “All I want is an assurance that you will refrain from freeing the Arcetalos until a time of my choosing.” The Aspect’s black shark eyes narrowed as he gazed at Varien. “What is that worth to you? Bear in mind, Varien Aether, that these would be the most favourable terms you are likely to ever get from me.” “And when would that time of choosing be?” “When the Arcetalos has completed her task.” “And when would that be?” “Oh, Varien Aether, I may speak the truth, but that doesn’t mean I have to divulge all my secrets. Rest assured that the Phoenix’s power would still exist at the close of her terms of employment.” “I am bound by no man,” Varien said. “If you know me like you say, you would know that,” The Aspect winked and in an instant, they were back in the crystal cavern. The icy plinth with the inscribed contract stood, immutable, beside them. “You’re asking me to literally betray my goddess,” Varien said. “Am I though?” the Aspect said slyly. Varien viewed the inscription on his gauntlet and then looked back up at the Aspect. “Yes, I’d say you are,” he said. “Hmmm,” the Apsect mused. “Well, if Abaddon is not enough for you to put some pressure on your vows, what would be?” the Aspect’s eyes widened. “Are you saying that you have no price, are you saying that there is nothing I cannot offer?” “What is even there to stop me from breaking this contract once I sign it?” Varien said. Even as the archfiend chuckled, his eyes narrowed. “Well, of course there are always clauses and codicils, but perhaps you are not the man I thought you are, if you are asking such questions.” “Perhaps you will take my counter offer,” Varien said. “You will give me Abaddon, or I will hunt you down and destroy you within a matter of days.” “Ah, there is still fire in the North,” the Aspect said, his smile stretching unnaturally wide. Varien glanced at the icy script of the contract. It was written in a sort of Infernal legalese, outlining an exchange of the crystal panes for one Abaddon, holy sword of the Fire in the North, in exchange for that trade there was a series of binding agreements saying that the Party of the First Part, being Varien Aether, and the Party of the Second Part, being Levistus, the Party of the First Part promised not to impede the Party of the Second Part in the continuation of the holding of the Party of the Third Part (that is, the Arcetalos of Hyolyn the Phoenix) until such time as the Party of the Second Part is satisfied of the work of the Party of the Third Part and would provide the Party of the Third Part to the descendants of the Party of the First Part. It was an intergenerational contract of service. Varien concentrated on what he knew of the Arcetalos’s predicament. He knew from his various visions that the Arcetalos was trapped in a crystal prison and he had a strong sense that she was being held against her will, forced to perform some hidden task for her captors. Whatever Levistus had engaged her in, it couldn’t be good. Breach of contract , Varien continued to read. If the Party of the First Part engaged conduct that would result in a breach of contract with the Party of the Second Part, the soul of the Party of the First Part becomes forfeit upon the Party’s passing from the Mortal Realm. If the Party of the Second Part were to engage in conduct resulting in a breach of contract, the contract itself would become void and release all parties from the terms of the contract, as though it had never been signed in the first place. That would, unfortunately, result in the forfeiture of Abaddon, but would also result in the return of the crystal panes. “What if the Party of the Second Part is deceased?” Varien whispered to Fiendsbane. “No one to enforce the contract?” The contract would likely be voided in that respect, Fiendsbane replied. Any gifts or prizes would revert. Not that I’m a lawyer. “What’s to stop me from taking this contract and then snuffing out your life before you can enforce its terms?” Varien asked the Aspect. Again, the Aspect laughed, as though he found this whole conversation amusing. “Well, that’s not very sporting, is it, Varien Aether?” “I didn’t come here to play sports, Archfiend,” Varien glared. “Well, there is an interpretation of course within the contract itself that would state that an attack against the Party of the Second Part by the Party of the First Part utilizing gains from this very contract would in fact constitute a breach of said contract,” the Aspect said. “Then you can take this contract and my father’s blade and suck it!” Varien said, “I’ll kill you with my bare hands if I have to, foregoing any blade!” He swung Fiendsbane at the icy plinth and shattered it, the words of the contract spinning apart into oblivion. The Archfiend arched an eyebrow as the shattered crystals of the contract hit the ground and immediately melted away in the heat of the superheated crystal furnace. “Well, you cannot blame a Fiend for trying, can you, Varien Aether? However, I am capable of picking up what you’re putting down. Like I said before, this conversation may or may not have happened. But…” His obsidian eyes glowed like hot coals even though an icy film covered his irises. “There may come a time, soon in fact, when you are at your lowest point, your most desperate hour. Call upon me and we shall talk again. But fair warning: the terms of our arrangement then will be less favourable to you.” With that, the room darkened as a cocoon of ice began to enclose around the Aspect, and to his horror Varien realized that a similar icy tomb was forming around him. He did not have time to react before the freezing crystal entombed him, his face frozen in fury.