The Mage Robes, once imbued with minor spells for warmth, cleansing, and more, had long since become ordinary robes under Magic Suppression. Without magic, the mages were no different from anyone else. They grew hungry, tired, and cold. They died...
The Blackwatch Legion had been reorganized with five thousand members. It had lost a dozen or so to the Ratfolk's trap and nearly a quarter in Subspace. After three days trudging through the Far North, fewer than three thousand remained. The three-hundred-strong Mage Corps had been almost wiped out.
The elite warriors had entered the realm of the extraordinary, but even they could not survive in the Far North without warm clothing, supplies, or rest. The harsh conditions were bad enough; the torment they had endured in Subspace had brought their minds close to breaking.
The strain on mind and body made even these warriors, chosen from countless candidates, want to give up.
"Hah..."
Against the black rock, the white mist of the warriors' breath stood out all the more clearly.
Even inside the cave, sheltered from the wind, the temperature remained below freezing. Death had merely gone from swift to slow.
"Brrr... If there were a fire, I'd jump right in to get warm." A mage wrapped in five or six layers of thin clothing stripped from fallen comrades still could not stop shivering.
He was not the only one dreaming of warmth. A squad captain tapped at the walls of the cave, looking up as he searched for something.
"What are you looking for?" a companion asked.
"Coal... If we had coal, we could make a fire..."
A fire?
There was only wind, snow, and stone here. No firewood, let alone coal. What could they burn?
The squad captain finally sank back down in despair. The light went