For a while, it felt like Wulf was floating. He knew he shouldn't be sleeping. He was in front of the bar, trying to leave.
'This is dangerous. I need to wake up,' Wulf thought. As he did, his thoughts echoed around him as if he were in a chamber.
His 'eyes' opened, and he found himself frozen stiff under the gaze of an enormous blue eye that looked like it had the texture of ice, with a veiny white pupil. Surrounding it, vapors drifted outward and toward him, enveloping his corporeal being.
"Uhm..." Wulf started nervously. It was a dream, but god damn was it a scary dream!
"You will endure," an ancient, grave voice shattered his inner thoughts. "You will free us. Free us from this monotony. This prison of ice. For we cannot."
"What are you?" Wulf asked nervously.
"We are the firsts of the Vorrijaard. The Seal Sister sealed us."
"Who?"
"Hm... Current time, memories- Freljord of Runeterra. Your memories: League of Legends."
Its pupil widened, and the light blue iris shifted to a deeper blue. Momentarily, Wulf was blinded before a massive migraine assaulted him, followed by brief, flickering visions. Frozen caps of frosty mountains. Snow blanketed the land, with unforgiving winds lifting a soft layer into a flurry at ground level.
He didn't need to be there to see, through the gray and snowy mist, how insanely cold it must be. But the names started to ring bells.
"The Freljord? League of Legends, Runeterra, Arcane- Freljord? You want me to go there? To free you? I think you got the wrong person."
"Yes, we do," the echoing, ancient-sounding voice responded firmly. "We've seen your memories. Weak. Unworthy. But, wandering soul, we caught your spirit. Pitiful end, we saw. Weakling."
The massive eye floated closer, and he could feel a burning sensation growing across his body.
"A-alright, so then why not just let me go? Un-catch me! Send me back! Find another wandering soul- someone more worthy!"
"Unusual. Not of this realm. Not natural. Free of celestial restraint, chains of slavery, chains of restraint and control."
Its pupil narrowed.
"Wulf in previous realm: dead. Cannot return, even if we could."
"Wh- dead?" Confused, Wulf slowed as his mind began to race, trying to recall the memories of drinking.
He was having fun, playing pool... He walked outside, and then-
"Ah... fuck. What a pathetic end."
"Pathetic. Pitiful. Shameful."
The voice acknowledged before the eye began to glow again. "But not the end. Chance. Redemption. Free us. We will assist you."
Wulf fell silent, his spirit sinking as the realization of his death set in. His end was so tragic and lame. Unable to say goodbye to anyone. Unable to redeem himself through hard work in his world. Finished.
"Respond, Wulf."
"Yes..." Wulf responded in a low, dejected voice.
The eye narrowed again before violently shimmering and releasing a ray of energy upon him.
Wulf screamed in agony, his hands clawing at his face and body as he thrashed, unable to escape the pain.
"You will free us. Iceborn blood, we will give. Shield your dreams, from the witch. Give you-"
Despite the echoing, deafening roar of its voice, he could barely register the rest through the pain. And suddenly, his vision was no longer filled with a singular eye.
---------------------------
In the farthest reaches of the north, creatures taller than skyscrapers roams. Their figures are twisted monoliths of corpses. Hands jutting out, faces with screams eternally screaming etched into its ribcage, disfigured limbs.
They appear to be a mix of a giraffe and an abomination. The head, which highlights its unnatural nature in the Freljord, glows with eerie blue energy from a singular eye that has a blue iris and white pupil. Ram horns made of ice branch from either side of its head with purple scales lining its neck while icicles the size of two story houses, numbering in the hundreds, if not thousands, hang from its titanic form.
Every step it takes, the ground is left scarred. Any tree, soil, and any semblance of life, gone. Below, a group of humans flee frantically while shouting in terror and drawing their attention.
"Damn you, old man!" A young, angry and fear stricken man shouts. "What are those creatures?! And where in this frozen wasteland were they hiding?!"
"I have no bloody idea! Just keep running!" An old man, bald with a white beard, and covered in multiple layers of tunic and fur, shouts back while running as fast as his body would let him. Despite his old age, he was pretty fast and kept pace with the group.
"How far is the boat, Bjerg!" Another man shouts toward him.
"Not far! Stop shouting! Save your energy, don't look back and when we get to the boat-"
A leathered hand grabs the old man's furs from behind and rips him backward, sending him tumbling to the ground.
"What the fuck?! Betrayers! Oath breakers!" Bjerg shouts angrily, glaring as he struggles to bring himself back to his feet. Despite it being mere seconds, the others were already a fair distance ahead before they shouted back.
"The dead cannot claim debts! The others will understand! Another suicidal expedition led by-"
Bjerg, the old man, froze as the landscape around him illuminated before a violent ray of blue Arcane energy sizzled above him and impacted his traitorous companions.
There wasn't even a scream as Bjerg covered his head fearfully but his eyes remained fixated until the light died down. Nothing remained but a blue mist where it impacted. His eyes followed as this blue mist slowly, gently, started to rise on its own while following the same path as the beam of energy.
His knees, crackling in protest from the sudden movements of the run, cracked again as he stood up. Bjerg's fearful gaze watched the blue mist rose up to the abomination while two more stood next to it.
After lining up, gazes fixed on the mist, they froze. Stiff, unmoving and unyielding, as if they never rose in the first place.
'Move, and I die. Stay still, and I perish,' Bjerg thought, his eyes drifting to the barren and distorted land the creature had been treading. Closing his eyes briefly and gritting his teeth, he very slowly began to move again.
'I don't have a choice. Keep it slow while they are distracted...'
Step by step, Bjerg moved. These abominations, whatever they were, were fixated on this blue mist hovering as their enormous eyes flashed every now and then.
Eventually, he passed the perfect sphere where the others were vaporized. No ash, bones, nothing. Just barren, dead soil.
A bright flash illuminated the land again and he froze. What he saw mystified and confused the hell out of him. If it wasn't for watching the others being vaporized, he might've even been awed.
Blue and white light, or energy, flowed out from their eyes toward the blue mist and like a basin filling with water, a shape was beginning to take form.
Squinting, the old man's eyes widened, 'No... That's a someone! By Avarosa!'
Through the gray haze and swirling mists of snow, he could see a faint outline of a man before the eyes of all three flashed. Three more rays of energy shot out across this man.
Bjerg stood still, shaking with uncontrollable fear.
'This is the end of me! I should've stayed at the village!' Bjerg despaired.
"AAAAA!"
Shouting snaps Bjerg out of it. He looks around briefly, only to realize that it is coming from the man who is now falling.
'What in the frozen gods- he's- it's alive?!'