Last Day Of The Human, Dragon heart Series Book 20

On the windswept plateau of the Northern Mountains, nestled within the serrated embrace of tranquil stone and dark ice, there stood a barely perceptible sanctuary — a tavern that defied the wrath of the elements. It appeared to be the living embodiment of the sole path to salvation for weary travelers in this forsaken land. Carved into the very heart of the mountain, the tavern’s facade murmured secrets taken from the ancient wisdom of the Northerners who’d once dwelled here. The wooden walls looked like the mighty sinews of the earth itself, striving to bind such an anomaly within the unyielding storm. Each expertly-hewn beam and log bore witness to the tenacity of its architects — a people who had waltzed with the indomitable forces of nature, and yet had emerged from this dance unbowed and undaunted. A series of stone steps led up to a modest outbuilding, which acted as a vestibule of sorts. On the second floor, should one dare to go so far, a cave yawned behind the door, a cave that should have been a gaping chasm, but... Instead of trepidation and unease, it offered warmth and refuge from the merciless blizzard. Outside, the storm roared with a ferocity worthy of a ballad, almost like it was trying to claim the mountain and entomb its scarce secrets beneath a dense shroud of frost and snow. And yet, the tavern stood resolute, a bastion against the cold, unfeeling embrace of the raging blizzard. As one approached the entrance, threads of light could be seen flitting through the windows, weaving their way through the storm like flickers of hope within the heart of darkness. They harbored a secret of their own — a warm enticement for those who’d refused to yield to the storm’s wrath and had found the strength to seek refuge within this sanctuary. The door swung open with a heavy thud, and the newcomers rushed to close it, lest the outside world disturb the delicate harmony within. The air of the cave was laden with the scents of spiced and mulled wine, juicy roasted meats, and the smoky caresses of the fire-breathing hearth. The stone walls of the tavern were decorated with the pelts of beasts — trophies claimed by the locals, and each of them a silent testament to the fact that those seeking the path to the Northern Lands had not yet given up, and their spirits remained unbroken. The runic symbols that adorned the weapons and armor of those gathered around the tables hummed with primordial power, casting elusive shadows that danced and swirled endlessly around the blazing hearth. Cheerful conversation and laughter abounded, seemingly in defiance of the frosty desolation beyond the windowpanes. The rhythmic clatter of wooden cups on the tables contributed to the symphony, providing a heartbeat that was normally so conspicuously absent in the frozen wilderness. Men and women wrapped in furs and leather armor exchanged tales of adventure and courage, their voices raised in bold challenge above the howling of the tempest. Within this sanctuary of warmth and camaraderie, the voice of the storm was reduced to a faint murmur, an ethereal reminder of the world beyond. As the hearth of the Hopeless Fool’s Tavern blazed and its patrons reveled, the storm’s fury seemed to grow impotent, a gentle testament to the strength of those who claimed these mountains as their home. And yet, despite the generally friendly atmosphere, an undercurrent of tension lingered. At the far end of the cave, where most of the animal pelts adorned the walls — some tempting even the most stalwart of visitors to abandon their quest for the Northlands — a large table dominated the room. It dwarfed the others, seating not just four or six guests, but easily a dozen, or more. Rarely had anyone, not even the one-eyed bartender — the steadfast owner and guardian of the local hearth — seen the Heaven Foxes gather in numbers greater than four. In the one hundred and twenty years that this illustrious band of adventurers had frequented the tavern, even the other regulars had come to know their roster. Tonight, however, the only ones at the table were a long-winded, red-bearded dwarf who was eating apples, a young man in his twenties whose face was etched with magical runes, and a striking, golden-haired warrior woman who always kept her hand close to her spear. If the bronze-skinned, sardonic man were to join them, an altercation with the dwarf would be almost inevitable — a conflict akin to an unrelenting storm that would engulf the entire tavern. The bartender had grown accustomed to such incidents and hardly cared — the Heaven Foxes compensated him well for any damage they caused. However, the prospect of sending orders down to the valley, waiting for the replacement furniture to arrive, and restoring everything... To the demons with all of that. Ah, yes. They also had a fifth member: a middle-aged man who barely appeared in the civilized reaches of the mountains. He had been seen only a handful of times in the past two decades. The bartender recalled the day the five Foxes had first arrived — tired, bedraggled, and without a clue as to the adventure they had embarked upon when they’d decided to join the host of starry-eyed dreamers in search of the fabled Northlands, which was what the locals often called them. And for what? Within the tavern, one could count on the fingers of two hands the number of patrons who had not attained at least the advanced stage of the Heaven Emperor level, with the majority boasting of being at the peak stage. Any of the locals could’ve summoned a trial of the Heavens and the Earth at will in their quest for immortality. The bartender allowed a smile to play upon his lips. There was the answer to his unspoken query. To try was to risk failure... Those who traveled to these mountains could not be satisfied with even the mere possibility of failure — that they might have squandered countless centuries, braved untold dangers and hardships, and even left cherished companions and loved ones behind, all for nothing. No, these natives were not content to simply try. They hungered for greater power.