The Last Whisperer

1 | The Cold Remnants of Wintery Nights~

200 Years Later...

Mount Nol, Iveneterra

It all began in the middle of winter when the weather was at its harshest.

On the top of Mount Nol, roughly eighteen men hiked and braved the storm. The wind was so powerful that it sent their cheeks backwards from the rest of their faces. The trail was steep and unsafe, too. Whenever they placed their foot on the wrong step, the rocks would collapse and fall all the way to the bottom. It was not an understatement when they said that climbing Mount Nol was an unnatural feat to accomplish.

Lazardo—or Laz, as people liked to call him—was in the middle of their formation. He was helping to carry an injured Luce, someone they hired and sent on this mission. Earlier, Luce fell when a bunch of rocks collapsed on where he stood. His foot bled from the impact.

Luce was not the only one. There were already three who had similar accidents, with Luce not included. If this kept on going on before they could find what they were looking for, it would be impossible to come back down alive.

"Laz! We found something!"

One of the men upfront was waving his arm from a distance. It took some time for Lazardo to see clearly because of the heavy snowfall. He carried both Luce and himself. When he got close enough, he realized it was one of the other men he sent with them. His name was Yuri.

"What is it? Did you find it?" Lazardo was searching the ground, or Yuri's hands, rather, if he found the plants they were looking for. But he saw nothing.

"No. We found something else. I believe it is a door to a dungeon. Daidalus and the others are searching the place right now."

"A dungeon? Up here in the mountains?"

Dungeons were uncommon and a thing of the past. Lazardo, from his brief years in studying in the Academy, learned from history books that dungeons used to be common around two-hundred years ago. They were used as barbaric prison cells for unnatural creatures, including shapeshifters from the Were-Nation. But now, there was the peace treaty, and any act of unwarranted violence against the Were-Nation was a serious crime.

All of the dungeons found in the continent of Gon were bombed and destroyed. How did this one manage to slip?

Just as Lazardo was thinking about it, a middle aged man exited the large double gates of the dungeon. The doors were as tall as a three-story tower.

Daidalus, the one that just exited, said to everyone, "It seems it's clear. We searched and we found no traces of any kregglins."

"I see," Lazardo said. He raised his eyes up and saw that the sky was getting darker. It would only get even more dangerous if they kept going. "Then, let's take shelter for the night."

All of them said, "Yes, sir!" as they assisted the injured people inside. Lazardo continued to help a crippled Luce with an arm around his shoulder as everyone rested for the first time in days.

He carefully helped Luce to lower himself down until he was leaning on the dungeon wall, panting.

"Thank you, Laz," said Luce.

"It's nothing."

Lazardo rubbed his palms together and blew some heat into them, then dusted off the snow piled on top of his ginger hair. He watched as Yuri went from person to person as he checked up on everyone.

"Yuri, take care of Lucian over here."

"Yes."

Just as he ordered, Yuri went over to Luce's side with treatments and rolls of bandages. He watched and made sure that Yuri correctly patched him up before turning to his side and opening his satchel.