Calamity Awakens

The world slammed back into place.

Snow whipped across my face the moment we reappeared. Cold and relentless. The wind howled like it had missed us and meant to make up for it.

We stood at the base of the valley, back where we all disappeared. The same ridged cliffs stretched high above us, jagged like broken teeth soaring into the sky. The same snow-covered boulders dotted the ground. The same biting cold chewed at the edges of my coat and fingers.

But this time, we added another to our company.

Kelan groaned beside me, squinting into the swirling white. "You weren't kidding about the cold," he muttered, pulling the fur-lined coat tighter around his frame.

"Nope," I said, already scanning the ridge lines. "Welcome to our slice of hell."

Hal trotted forward a few steps and stopped, sniffing the air. The frost wolf's body was alert, but not alarmed. That was good.

I took a few seconds to orient myself, matching the curve of the ridge line and the slope of the terrain. We'd landed near where we last left. The shallow cave entrance Hal and I had found before was about a two hour hike northwest.

"Alright, here's the deal," I said, turning to Kelan. "This valley's not empty. There are monsters out here. Big, fast and strong. We haven't killed any, seen a few and nearly died each time. You stay close, follow instructions, and we might survive long enough to make it out of this winter alive. You'll need to pick up the Snowwalk skill if you want to move effectively."

Kelan gave me a dry look. "Inspirational."

"I'm not some general. I'm a realist. Hal and I scouted a shelter yesterday a couple hours walk from here.. covered, defensible. We're heading there tonight if we don't find something more suitable down here. It's a temporary base until we can carve something more permanent."

He nodded slowly. "Got it. What do you need from me?"

I pointed toward the cliffs above. "We need information. This valley's huge and presumably unforgiving. I want to start mapping the terrain—natural paths, cave systems, water sources if there are any. We survive by staying a step ahead. I have a sector recruitment portal stone I intend to emplace when we find a more permanent place.

Kelan glanced at the cliffs, then at Hal, then back to me. "You want me climbing?"

"I want you to observe," I corrected. "You've got the Dao of Stone, and a working understanding of terrain. We'll move together, do some low-risk scouting. You can feel the land in ways I can't. You'll have to explain what all you can do with your Dao when we have a chance, maybe help me use my own"

Hal huffed and nudged my hand once. I nodded.

"We'll head west. Skirt the cliff base, check for alternate shelter or signs of activity. Anything unusual, we mark and move. If Hal gets tense, we backtrack immediately. Understood?"

"Understood," Kelan said.

I pulled my coat tighter and adjusted the straps on the pack. The wind stung, but we were better equipped than last time. Better fed and equipped. Stronger. Not strong enough—but progress is progress.

"Hal, lead the way," I murmured.

The wolf took point without hesitation, ears twitching and paws leaving barely a trace in the snow.

Kelan and I followed, our breaths fogging in the frozen air as we moved out—one step deeper into the wild unknown.

The valley waited. Cold, vast, merciless.

We moved west, hugging the base of the cliff. The terrain was uneven and snow-packed, but not impassable. I kept my notebook out, gloved fingers clumsy against the pencil as I sketched the curve of the ridgeline, logging rough distances and terrain features as we went.

Cliff face here—jagged, high. Slopes down around a ridge bend. Possible overhangs above.
I jotted quick symbols for elevation, terrain types, and hazards. It wasn't pretty, but it didn't need to be. We needed landmarks, not artistry.

Hal led as usual, nose to the wind, tail low. He paused every few minutes, ears twitching at subtle sounds. Kelan followed close, still stiff from the fight, but moving better than I expected. Every so often he'd place a hand to the stone and hum quietly.

"Warm veins under this stretch," he muttered once, brushing frost off a ridge of exposed rock. "Might be a thermal vent or open cavern below."

I marked that spot on the map with a double circle and added a question mark beside it.

"Noted," I said. "We'll need to come back when we're not at risk of freezing to death."

We kept going. The cliff eventually broke inward, revealing a narrow, sloped pass winding up into the heights. Hal stopped short, hackles just slightly raised.

I noted the location, drew a twisted path symbol, and labeled it:
Narrow Pass – Hal cautious – unknown upper terrain

Kelan pressed his hand to the stone again. "There's air movement behind the wall. Cavern system for sure."

"Could be useful later," I said, "or a death trap. We'll decide that when we're stronger."

Further west, the terrain softened—less sheer, more rolling. We stumbled across what looked like the remains of a primitive outpost. A half-rotted stake jutting from the snow, old firepits filled with frozen ash.

"Marking it as: "Ruined campsite?" I said aloud while writing.

"No sign of life recently," Kelan added, scanning the tree line. "Just ghosts."

"That's more real than you realize, we almost died to one yesterday." I replied to his comment.

We moved on in silence, the weight of Kelan's words lingering. The snow thickened, dulling our footsteps, and the wind had softened to a quiet hush—just the rasp of breath, the whisper of fur against frost, and the occasional scratch of my pencil across paper.

Then Hal froze.

Mid-step, he lowered his body, ears pinned flat, tail stiff behind him.

I raised a fist instinctively, stopping Kelan. We crouched low behind a snow-laced boulder as I followed Hal's gaze up ahead.

A hill rose gently in front of us, its crown bare but for a scatter of broken stone. We crept to the ridge line, moving in slow, controlled movements. From the top, the land dropped into a hollow—a shallow depression nestled beneath the cliff wall.

And there it was.

A massive bear—easily 4 times the size of Hal—shouldering its way into a cave cut into the cliffside. Its fur was a shaggy mass of white and pale gray, tipped with icicles that clinked softly as it moved. Frost steamed off its body in waves, and each exhale billowed into a foggy plume. One clawed paw dragged something limp—furred, probably a mountain goat—into the dark.

"Frost bear," Kelan whispered beside me, barely breathing. "I've heard of 'em. Thought they were mountain myths."

"They're real," I murmured back. "And we are absolutely not picking a fight with one."

I tried to use Inspect on it and got nothing back, It had to be at least Tier 3 probably Tier 4.

The bear paused at the mouth of the cave, lifting its head. Its black eyes swept the slope, nostrils flaring.

We didn't move.

Hal didn't blink.

After a long, heart-pounding moment, the beast gave a snort, shook snow from its coat, and disappeared into the darkness.

I exhaled slowly, muscles relaxing all at once. I marked the location on my map carefully:

Frost Bear Cave

Then I shaded the surrounding area in crosshatch lines and underlined it twice.

"We'll give that cave a wide berth," I said. "There's surviving the cold… and then there's surviving that."

Kelan gave a small nod. "I'm not fighting that thing unless I've got a mountain on my side."

Hal finally eased up and gave a low whuff. I reached out and scratched behind his ear.

"Good eyes, Hal. Let's keep moving. Circle wide, then loop back toward our shelter."

We turned east, careful to stay downwind of the cave and low to the ground. Every step now was quieter, sharper and more deliberate.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The sky was darkening by degrees now, shadows growing long and cold across the snow. We curved east, giving the frost bear's den a wide berth. Even at this distance, I could see claw marks gouged deep into the stone, and thick tufts of white fur stuck to the edges of the cave mouth.

"That thing could tear a tree in half," Kelan muttered, glancing back as we descended the slope.

"Or a man," I said. "Let's not find out."

We pushed on, the wind picking up, needling through our coats. I finished marking the last of the ridgeline turns and minor elevation changes in my notebook, then snapped it closed and tucked it away. No more unnecessary noise.

That's when Hal stopped.

Frozen mid-step. Ears up. Tail stiff.

I followed his gaze toward the trees off our left flank. Not far—maybe 80 meters—just inside the tree line.

A shimmer and shape.

Thin, pale, and drifting between the trunks like it didn't quite belong to this world.

My breath caught. I didn't need to say it. Kelan saw it too.

"Ghost?" he whispered.

"Yeah. Banshee."

It hadn't seen us yet.

We backed up slow, keeping low, not speaking. But the wind shifted—and just like that, it turned.

The woman's head—if that wretched shape could be called that—twisted toward us. The air changed.

And it screamed.

A wail ripped through the valley, so loud and raw it set my teeth on edge. It wasn't just noise—it was emotion weaponized. A sound so sharp and sorrowful it hit like a knife in the spine. My legs weakened under me, and Kelan groaned, stumbling back collapsing.

"Move!" I hissed.

We bolted, pulling Kelan with us, veering off the path and angling hard toward the northern slope. No finesse now, just raw speed. I only dared look back once but I didn't see it give chase either. The scream had been to freeze us and to paralyze. But we were already gone.

We didn't stop for miles. Only when Hal slowed, ears still up but no longer tense, did I dare to breathe properly again.

"That," Kelan panted, "was worse than almost dying in the mine."

"No arguments here."

We turned back north, catching the edge of our old trail. Snow had half-filled it in, but enough signs remained to guide us.

"Keep sharp," I said. "We make it back to the hideout tonight."

No one disagreed.

We didn't speak much as we pushed toward the old shelter. Every snapped branch or gust of wind had us twitching, eyes scanning. Even Hal was tense, tail low and steps deliberate.

When the overhang finally came into view—half-shrouded by windblown snow and shadow—I let myself exhale. It was still there. Undisturbed. Just a mouth in the mountain, but it was ours.

We approached cautiously, Hal moving in first to check the perimeter. Nothing inside, no new tracks. No scent that set him off. Safe enough for now.

We got to work immediately.

"Let's make it less inviting this time, Kelan what's all in that pack?" I said.

Kelan dumped the gear we'd looted earlier while I fished through the spare pack. Between the two of us, we had a handful of tools: a rusted pickaxe head, a small coil of iron wire, some nails, and two serviceable wood axes.

Hal began pacing the perimeter of the overhang, nose to the snow. I followed his path and started setting up simple tripwire traps—nothing fancy, just warning alarms. The wire pulled taut between snow-buried rocks, looped through bits of scrap metal we could hear if something large blundered into them.

Kelan worked closer to the mouth of the shelter, using one axe to dig shallow holes and wedge sharpened sticks in at odd angles—primitive caltrops, really. He winced with every movement, but didn't slow down, the cold must be brutal on him with the run and without the heatstone I had. Though he didn't complain.

I reinforced the narrow opening with a small pile of rocks and broken branches. It wouldn't stop something determined, but it might funnel an intruder just long enough to give us a chance.

When we were done, the entrance looked like hell…but better hell than an open door.

The firepit from before was still intact, partially shielded by the rock lip. Kelan sparked it to life while Hal curled next to it. I slumped down beside my pack, and opened my notifications.

I gave a low whistle. "Map making counts, apparently."

Kelan glanced over. "Got a skill for it?"

"Yep. Basic Cartography. Nothing flashy. But hey, progress is progress."

He nodded, coaxing the fire higher with his good hand. "I gained the skill Stone Sense. Got a sharper read on terrain. I got it from that thermal vent earlier." He hesitated for a beat, gaze flickering to the flames. "Would've killed for a skill like this back in the mine... though I guess I did kill to get it."

The silence that followed was heavy, but I let it pass.

I looked over at Hal, whose eyes were half-lidded but still alert. "Hal, anything from today?"

He blinked once.

A shimmer ran through the bond, Oathsense whispering quiet affirmations in the back of my mind—skill gains, steady progress. No exact numbers, just impressions.

Frostfang Bite stood out. That one had grown. Hal was proud of it, even if he didn't show it the way a human would. More than that—he trusted it now. Like it had proven itself.

I gave him a small nod. "Well earned."

Hal thumped his tail once against the stone, then went back to watching the fire.

I leaned back, thoughtful. That bond between us—Oathsense—was more than just a party trick. It didn't just share his location or vague emotions. It let me feel the rhythm of his growth, his emotions and instincts. Like standing beside someone at a forge and knowing the shape of the blade before it cooled. But I hadn't tried it on Kelan yet.

I focused, reaching through the brand the same way I reached for Hal. The mark flared faintly in my mind…a tether, sharp and new.

A sudden jolt of pressure—not painful, but dense—met me like a door swinging open.

Kelan flinched. His shoulders tightened and his hand reached halfway to the brand on his chest. "What the hell was that?" he asked, voice calm but strained. Not panicked. Just… ready.

"Oathsense," I said, pulling back a bit. "It's part of the bond and a skill of mine. I wasn't sure it would work the same way with you. Can you try following that bond and speaking to me?"

Kelan's brow furrowed. His eyes flicked to the glowing symbol beneath his collarbone, then back to me. For a long moment, he said nothing—just sat still, breathing slow, like he was trying to feel something subtle beneath the surface.

Then his eyes widened slightly. His posture shifted. He wasn't just hearing me anymore.

"You can hear this?" came the thought—not aloud, but clear as day in my mind. Not words exactly, but the intent behind them, shaped into something I could understand. Heavy, grounded. Like stone pressed into language.

"Welcome to the club," I said with a faint smile. "The bond's deeper than I thought, Though that might be because of the increased skill levels I've gotten. It's not just a mark. It guides progress. Increases trust, measures and helps your potential. Yours. Mine. Hal's."

Kelan blinked again, visibly unsettled, but to his credit, didn't flinch. "That's… a little intimate," he muttered out loud. "Feels like whispering into someone's spine."

"But it worked," I said, sitting forward. "That means we've got more than a minor mental connection. We've got communication, no matter the distance. I can feel Hal's intent too—sometimes clearer in combat than words would be, I think he just can't form words yet."

Kelan shook his head slowly. "Useful. Strange. But useful, I've never heard of a class like yours."

Then, with a dry glance at Hal: "Guess this means I'm part of the pack now."

Hal didn't react beyond a yawn.

"Don't worry," I said. "You'll get used to it. Probably...just wait till he starts stealing your food."

Kelan snorted. "Better than a bite to my knee again."

"You're not wrong," I said, remembering how I met him.

Kelan nodded, processing. "So our Dao becomes clearer and we are guided to actions that will unlock classes that we have affinity for....because of this Brand?"

"Seems that way. At least that's how the class description was." I replied.

He didn't smile. But he didn't look away either. I wasn't sure how I felt about Kelan yet but I knew he would be immensely helpful when it came time to start building our home."

I stirred the fire absently and built it higher than I had last night. The warmth helped, but it couldn't touch the weight I knew was coming tomorrow.

"We're going back to the staging room tomorrow," I said.

Kelan raised an eyebrow.

"I'll be picking a new target. Another person who's just earned their Calamity. We will have to bring it to them."

He said nothing, waiting.

"I try to pick ones that earned it because of their bad deeds. Because they did something wrong when they should've known better. Or because they made a choice there's no coming back from. Some of them, like you, walked a line and crossed it. Some go too far. In your case the deciding factor was the tools and supplies I could potentially get from the area."

"And what if you meet someone like me again?" he asked.

I looked up at him. "Then maybe I offer them a choice, but I am out of Brands and I don't know when I will get more."

He considered that. "Not much of a Calamity, I was expecting a duel or something like the stories they tell about Calamities."

Maybe," I said. "But I'm not here to play the way Vero expects. I'm here to grow stronger, to protect what I choose to protect, and to build something that can last. That's what freedom means to me."

Kelan's head tilted slightly, his brows drawing together. "Hold on… did you just say Vero?"
His voice wasn't angry—just incredulous, like I'd casually name-dropped a god at a dinner table.

"Yeah," I said without flinching. "He's the one running this whole Calamity business. Tall, silver-eyed, smug as hell."

Kelan stared at me. "You're talking about the Arbiter of Ordeals. A God of Ascension. And you're saying his name like he's your drinking buddy?"

"I've met him. Twice now," I said, voice steady. "He's not what I expected. But I don't think he cares how I say his name. And I'm not interested in worshiping anyone, God or not."

Kelan shook his head slowly, like he wasn't sure whether I was brave, insane, or both. "You're either blessed or cursed. Maybe both."

"Probably," I admitted, then turned my gaze back to the fire.

Kelan let out a quiet breath, the weight of everything sinking in. He leaned back against the wall, firelight flickering across the jagged brand on his collar. "Guess we'll see who's next. Can we go somewhere warm?"

Harold gave a low chuckle. "This is the warm place."

Kelan groaned and dragged the coat tighter around himself. "Great. Love that for us."

The fire popped softly between them, casting long shadows on the stone. Hal let out a content huff and curled tighter beside the heat, his breath steady and slow.

"Get some sleep," Harold said, settling back against his pack. "Tomorrow, we pick the next soul."

Outside, the wind howled past the entrance, but inside the small shelter, the fire held fast.