Chapter 279: The Great Icicles

It is only now that he finally realized that he has being left alone, presumably to die in the most wicked blizzard ever recorded in this part of a certain dimension. The land is called Wicklash, and it is mostly winter there during the year. But the power of its inhabitants come from the abundance of cold temperatures, as well as the enchanted winds that flow through its many tundras everytime the blizzard comes in its wake.

He has no idea why he was here, and how he got into the middle of a harsh snowfall. He figured it is already nightime, despite the fact that the coldest days in Wicklash do not see any amount of sunshine in most days of the year, and it always feels like nightime. Mysteriously, he found himself waking up in the middle of a blizzard, drenched in the blanket of snow, and couldn't remember anything that happened in the previous days.

As he finally felt the bite of the cold winter wind blowing against his cheeks, he quickly got up and studied the area from which he found himself lying. There was nothing to be seen here, other than several groups of pine trees that are typically used as Christmas trees. Everything else is as white as the blanket of snow that covers the ground. 

He tried getting up to see where the path ahead would lead, and he discovered that he was wearing winter clothes as he tried shaking off the snow that is all over him. As he was about to set on his way to nowhere, he suddenly noticed something that was lying beside him from where he was before. He shivered.

It was a Great Icicle; a powerful weapon used by the Wicklers. It is only now that he finally understood where he actually was. Albeit this world was totally unfamiliar to him, he have read everything about the Wicklers in the Burnhall's majestic libraries before, nevertheless.

It felt weird that a segment of his memory was finally occuring to him after he saw the Great Icicle. He now believes that he was a student before, in a university for Angelic Hosts, but he couldn't know for certain if he was, in fact and in truth, an actual Angel.

Someone was definitely playing with his memories in order to manipulate him. This he felt to be true despite no evidence that he could sense from his mind and in his soul that the manipulator was influencing his will to live. Yet, it was his instincts telling him that he was here because he needed to be at the right place and at the right time.

He took the Great Icicle with his right hand, and he saw that it was broken, split in half. How can a Great Icicle be broken like that? Who could have destroyed it? Knowing the Wicklers, he remembers reading an article about the nature of their existence and found out a long time ago that the Wicklers (and their daunting weaponry) are virtually invincible.

They thrive in the harsh coldness, amplifying the bite of the frost. Wicked, and absolutely powerful.

Aside from these few fundamental concepts, he could not establish a beneficial recollection that could help him now to survive the dangerous trek ahead. His memory is simply failing him like never before.

He told himself that he needed to trust his insticnts and follow the path ahead. He does not have any other options, anyway. But before he set out on foot, he took the broken Icicle, studied it for a moment, and then put it away in his sling bag.

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This Chapter is sponsored by Dolce & Gabbana.