Jack and Sigurd stood in the swirling storm, the artifact pulsing in Jack's hands like a living heart. The sky above them crackled with unnatural energy, and the winds howled as if the world itself was protesting their discovery. Snow swirled in violent gusts, reducing visibility to near nothing as icy tendrils wrapped around their exposed skin.
"We need shelter," Sigurd shouted over the roar of the storm. "Before this kills us both!"
Jack nodded, his fingers tightening around the artifact as they trudged toward a rocky outcrop. The cave they found was narrow but deep, its entrance partially obscured by a curtain of icicles. With one final effort, they forced their way inside, collapsing against the frozen stone. The moment they stepped in, the artifact's glow intensified, illuminating the walls with strange symbols Jack had never seen before. The air inside was eerily still, untouched by the raging blizzard outside.
"What is this?" Jack murmured, running his fingers along the markings. They seemed to shift under his touch, rearranging themselves as if responding to his presence. Some of the symbols glowed faintly, pulsating in rhythm with the artifact.
Sigurd exhaled sharply. "It's ancient magic. Older than any tribe, older than the gods themselves."
Jack placed the artifact on the ground between them. "Then we need to figure out how to use it."
As if in response, the artifact's light flared, casting moving shadows on the walls. A low hum filled the air, growing louder until the symbols around them glowed to life. Suddenly, a vision overtook Jack's mind—a vast frozen wasteland, a towering structure of ice, and a gateway shimmering with energy. He saw himself standing before it, the artifact floating in his hands, unlocking something long forgotten.
He gasped, falling backward as the vision faded. Sigurd was at his side in an instant. "What did you see?"
"A portal," Jack whispered. "The way home."
Sigurd's expression hardened. "Then we're not the only ones who will seek it."
A tremor rumbled through the cave, shaking loose a few icicles from the entrance. Jack and Sigurd tensed as a deep, guttural growl echoed from outside. The storm had masked their presence, but now that it was calming, something had found them.
Jack scrambled to his feet, gripping the artifact tightly. "We need to move. Now."
Sigurd grabbed his spear and took a defensive stance. "Too late."
A pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness beyond the entrance. Then another. And another. Shadows moved between the swirling snow—figures with elongated limbs, covered in matted fur, their breath visible in the freezing air. These were no ordinary predators. They were hunters, drawn to the power of the artifact.
Jack felt his pulse quicken. The cave, once a sanctuary, had become a trap.