The wind atop the Zenith Crown, the kingdom’s highest peak, didn’t just blow, it bit, a screaming force that threatened to rip the Calamity Vanguard off the cliff and fling them into the clouds below.

"Push!" Bakugo roared, his voice barely audible over the gale. "Put your back into it, Shitty Hair!" With a guttural grunt, Kirishima slammed his shoulder against the massive stone doors. Slowly, grinding against centuries of neglect, the Solstice Sanctum’s entrance yielded. The squad tumbled inside, leaving the whiteout behind for a silence so profound it made their ears pop. Sero spun, firing a web of binding tape to seal the crack, cutting off the wind’s scream.

Denki slumped against a pillar, chest heaving, brushing snow from his wide-brimmed hat. "I can’t feel my fingers," he muttered, rubbing his gloved hands to spark a little warmth. "If frostbite takes my trigger finger, I’m billing you, Bakugo."

"You’ll get paid when we get the rock," Bakugo snapped, shaking ice from his fur-lined gauntlets. He strode to the side of the nave, eyes scanning the darkness. "Six hours of rest, max. The Covenant of Decay is maybe half a day behind. If they get the Ember Heart before us, there won’t be a kingdom left to spend your gold in."

"I know, I know," Denki groaned, checking the fletching on his bolts. "If the bad guys get the rock… boom. World ends." He added with an air of mock-exasperation.

The Ember Heart wasn't just a gem, but a shard of a dying star trapped in crystal, pulsing with enough heat to flatten a kingdom or power one for a thousand years. The Covenant, led by Shigaraki, wanted it to burn the world; the Vanguard just wanted the paycheck.

Mina cracked a glow-flask, bathing the hall in pink light. Colossal, faceless statues loomed over them, silent and judging.

"Creepy," Denki whispered.

While Bakugo barked orders at Kirishima about fire ventilation and Sero helped Jirou secure the perimeter, Denki slipped away. "Just… scouting," he muttered, boots clicking on frost-covered stone. The air smelled of ancient dust. He stumbled over a raised slab in the center of the nave. Not debris, but a black metal plate buried under gray dust. Beneath, it gleamed faintly gold. Harsh, angular words were etched into it in Old Common: "The Sky does not bargain. The Storm does not hesitate. To the Pilgrim standing in the dark: Do not ask for the Light. Be the Lightning that strikes it awake."

Denki read it aloud. "Be the lightning…" The words were heavy, a dare rather than a warning. Glancing back, Bakugo was aggressively poking the fire with a stick, shouting something at Mina about ration management. None of them were looking at him.

He didn't think about the consequences. He didn't think about whether this was a trap, or a curse, or just a piece of old metal. He just wanted to see what would happen.

"Well," he whispered with a grin, "I’ve never been good at asking politely anyway." He removed his glove, flexed his fingers, and let the yellow sparks dance violently between his knuckles. He took a deep breath and pressed his palm to the cold metal, sending a raw pulse of high-voltage magic into the ancient runes.