The Arcane Holder

Sergie woke with a sharp jolt, his body still shaking from what felt like the remnants of a dream. But no… it couldn't have been. He remembered it too clearly—what had just happened was too real. As his mind cleared, a gnawing hunger clawed at his stomach, primal and inescapable. He stood up, the cold wooden floor creaking beneath his feet as he moved towards the door.

The house was still. Dante and Valenora were asleep. That wasn't unusual for Dante, the vampire never really followed human hours, but Valenora? She was an elf. Shouldn't she be awake by now? Sergie frowned. The stillness in the house was unsettling, but he dismissed it as he made his way toward the kitchen, his hunger guiding him like an unspoken compulsion.

When he reached the counter, his eyes locked onto the loaf of bread. His pulse quickened. It was unsliced.

Impossible.

He had sliced it earlier. He had taken a piece. He was certain. Was it a dream? No, it couldn't be. The sensation of the knife cutting into the loaf, the crunch of the crust under the blade—it had been too vivid. Confusion gnawed at him, but he grabbed the knife again, cutting the bread deliberately this time, watching as the crumbs scattered across the counter.

Without another thought, he left the house, trailing breadcrumbs in his wake. The night outside was dark but beautiful, the air cool and sharp, filled with a silence that made everything feel stretched, like reality itself had thinned. Hours seemed to pass as he walked, led by something more than hunger now, something deeper, a need to find… them.

He spied on them first, creeping silently through the woods, moving from tree to tree. His footsteps were as light as the wind, and they didn't notice him. Not the guards, not the others. He kept going, following the trail of strange figures until the trees opened up to reveal a city of ice, towering and majestic, shimmering under the pale moonlight.

Two enormous ice golems stood at the gate, motionless and silent sentinels. As the guards he had been following approached, they merged with the icy walls of the city, disappearing from sight, only to reappear on the other side. Sergie stared in awe, his breath visible in the frozen air. He climbed down from his perch, his muscles tense, his eyes scanning for any signs of danger.

That's when he saw it—a mud person pulling a crude carriage, laden with fruits, vegetables, and carcasses of dead animals. The carriage rumbled along the icy path, and without thinking, Sergie leapt down, slipping into the shadows of the wagon and hiding among the cargo. The mud person paid him no mind, continuing its silent journey into the heart of the ice city.

Time passed, though Sergie couldn't tell how long. Hours? Days? His perception of time felt warped, stretched thin like everything else. Eventually, the mud person stopped, and the carriage halted. Without thinking, Sergie sprang from his hiding place, running at full speed, not even caring if he was seen. The mud person didn't react at all, just continued its stillness, almost as if it didn't exist outside of its task.

Sergie ran until his legs burned, his speed reaching 18 kilometers per hour, his heart thundering in his chest. Then, he collided with something—or someone. He looked up, breathless, and found himself face to face with a woman… no, not a woman. She was made of ice. Her features were perfectly human but crystalline, cold blue eyes gleaming like frost under the sun.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, regaining his balance, his breath fogging in the cold air.

The ice woman smiled, her expression soft and forgiving, though her face was as hard as the frozen ground. "You're forgiven."

She spoke no more, and Sergie felt no reason to linger. He nodded, muttering a thanks, and ran again, faster this time, driven by the strange, invisible force that had been guiding him since he had woken.

When he finally stopped again, it was because an ice guard had stepped into his path. This one was different—taller, broader, his armor gleaming like frozen steel under the moonlight. The guard's eyes scanned him, piercing and deep.

"Phoenix Sergie," the guard said, his voice echoing like a crack across the ice.

Sergie blinked, his mind reeling. "That's… that's me."

"The Ice Emperor has summoned you."

Sergie's stomach twisted into knots. "The Ice Emperor?"

The guard didn't answer, simply motioning for him to follow. They walked through the grand gates of the ice city, the cold biting deeper into his bones with every step. The buildings rose around him, spires of frost that gleamed in the night. And yet, as they walked, Sergie noticed something strange—everyone they passed, every ice being, stared at him with reverence, their gazes lingering as if he were something more than just a stranger.

They whispered among themselves, their voices barely audible, but Sergie caught fragments of their conversations. "He looks like the Emperor…" "Is he one of them?" "…an Arcane Holder…"

Arcane Holder. Sergie's brow furrowed. He had no idea what that meant, but the words carried weight, a sense of power that made him feel… different. Special, even. But also terrified.

The palace loomed before him, vast and intricate, carved entirely from ice, its walls shimmering like the surface of a frozen lake. He was ushered inside, his breath caught in his throat as he stepped into the grand hall. And there, at the far end of the room, on a throne made of pure frost, sat the Ice Emperor.

He looked just like Sergie.

He was human.

Twisted, yet undeniably bearing the remnants of humanity—or whatever had once been human—the Ice Emperor's frozen gaze flickered with an ancient recognition as it settled on Sergie, as though recalling a fragment of a long-forgotten memory buried deep within the cold void of time.

A flicker of doubt gnawed at the edge of Sergie's thoughts, his mind circling back to the unsettling question—was it all just a dream? Or worse, some cruel, twisted joke, meant to warp his sense of reality? The curiosity burned inside him, gnawing at his reason, as if the boundaries between nightmare and waking life had dissolved into the cold, leaving him grasping for answers in the frostbitten void.