BYPH Prologue

Blood. So much fucking blood. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy this depraved shit. But I do. I crave the looks on the faces of all those who betray us. I’m thirsty for their pain. 

What began in the late 1940’s as a quest to win national titles has cultivated into a schism of tasks, pledges, and belonging. Our Society is comprised of various chapters around the nation that sit under the umbrella of an organization that very few know the whole truth about. We are Ice Lords, and this is our way.

Within the chamber that rests beneath our living quarters, respect is not optional, it’s earned and upheld. This is a room of honor, carved by the very first of our legacy, Edison Einhorn, and crafted into something of ominous beauty. In this room we bow to those chosen to guide our paths.

Authority belongs to those of rank:

Our leader—Aidric. Silence is his method of control, his presence alone commands obedience. He doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t have to.

The council advisor—formerly Julian. A mentor, a confidant, the bridge between leadership and the members. His role is to guide, to counsel, to ensure the Society’s foundations remain unshaken.

And then there’s our revered Ice Lord speaker—Sebastian. Aidric’s left hand, his voice, his enforcer. Sebastian speaks where Aidric remains silent, delivering orders with authority.

Each holds power. Each plays their role. And in the chamber, their word is absolute.

However, upstairs, all bets are off. In the hockey house, the Society doesn’t exist. We don’t speak of it, don’t acknowledge it. We’re just a band of brothers playing the sport we love.

With that comes the usual grapples, trash talk, the occasional bruised ego. In layman’s terms, we give each other shit, and we do it well.

Julian, our former council advisor, thought he could double-cross us. Thought he could whisper our societies deepest secrets to our biggest rival and walk away unscathed.

Now, he gets to endure our wrath.

Suspended above the altar with his wrists shackled, chains groan under Julian’s weight. The dim light overhead flickers, casting jagged shadows across his battered body. He’s the star of this grim spectacle, a traitor laid bare for judgment.

A brother steps forward, the heavy rustle of his ceremonial cloak the only sound before the next strike lands. A sickening thud resounds as Julian’s body jerks. He gasps, breaths ragged as the chains rattle in protest.

Another blow. Then another. Each one delivered with precision. Each one a lesson. 

Our Lord speaker, Sebastian, sweeps his gaze over the remainder of us, his eyes glinting with something feral behind the symbolic hockey mask we all wear for our ceremonies. A silent reminder that this isn’t just a game. This is who we are.

He lifts a hand, his voice a guttural roar. “Mark him. Feed him your pain. An eye for an eye! Show him what happens when you betray an Ice Lord!”

His command electrifies the room. One of our seasoned members, Emmett, presses a branding iron to Julian’s chest, leaving a blistering red X in its wake. The screams of the traitor reverberate on the walls around us. But down here, no one will hear him. The chamber is impenetrable, our fortress well-guarded. Only those granted an invitation may enter, but not all leave with their limbs still attached to their bodies.

The next brother steps forward, gripping a leather whip. A sharp crack splits the air as it lashes against Julian’s flesh, leaving angry welts in its wake.

Slade goes for a handful of salt, rubbing it into the fresh wounds, drawing out a screeching howl from Julian. Just when we think he’s finished, he unbuttons his pants and drops them to his ankles. Without hesitation, he aims a stream of piss at the traitor. 

The room fills with a mixture of laughter and gasps, but I smile under my mask, always impressed with my friends unique forms of torture. And trust me, he has many.

As Slade walks away, pulling his pants up, I move to the altar. Opting for the greatest weapon I’ve been blessed with—my hands. I grip Julian’s chin and lift his head, so that I can peer into his regretful eyes. “You don’t fuck with my family without consequences.” 

Fist clenched tightly, I feel my bones shift under the skin when I drive them into his bruised and swollen cheek. Each blow vibrates down my arm and into my chest where a sick satisfaction builds within me. As my knuckles connect with his flesh, it reminds me of the power I was promised when I came here, and the severity of what betraying that power will cost me. Julian’s face twists in pain, a low groan escaping his lips as I continue to strike him.

I have lived my life as a ghost in my family, always cast to the side and easily forgotten. It wasn’t until I ended up in rehab that a member of the Ice Society said I have potential. He spoke of a brotherhood that breeds loyalty and comradery. It was then that I knew I wanted more. I craved to be a part of something worth fighting for, and this society is worth every bloodied fist.

This is my calling. These are my people. That is my family. 

“Save some of him for the rest of us,” the guy behind me shouts from below the altar. 

I step back with an unhinged smile on my face, blood dripping from my hands as I gesture toward the man who thought he could get away with stabbing us in the back. “All yours, brother.”

By the time we’ve all had our turn at Julian, I’m surprised he’s still alive. His body is a crimson canvas. From his face, a mask of purple and blue, to his eyes that are barely visible through all the puffiness. Blood trickles from head to toe, mingling with the grime covering him. Deep cuts crisscross over his skin that sit by patches of raw, blistered flesh from the burns he endured. 

“Let this be a warning,” Sebastian says sternly while pointing at Julian. “Our secrets are in place for a reason. Not only did Julian endure the wrath of the Ice Lords, but he’s also been expelled from North Ridge University. We’re family in this society, and I’d hate to see any of you share Julian’s fate.”

What we just did was brutal but necessary. It’s a lesson for all of us. I, personally, never intend to be in his position. Not only would my future as a hockey player cease to exist, but I would lose all of this. My family—my brotherhood. I look around the chamber, taking in the scene before me like food for my soul. Each man-made mark on the brick stone that surrounds the chamber leaves me captivated. Every intricate design in the structure that keeps the house above us afloat has me curious about the history of this house and the legacy of the Ice Lords. 

Aidric, our leader, unclasps the cuffs on Julian’s wrists and he drops like a sack of potatoes. The sound of bone meeting cement reverberates through the room. 

With a tip of his chin, he calls over two of our newest members. I watch as they grab Julian by the ankles and drag him across the cold pavement, retreating into the shadows in the dimly lit room to the heavy metal door to the tunnels. It groans on its hinges as it opens. 

I lean forward, peering down the dark entrance. Cold air rushes out and a chill runs down my spine as the scent of death seems to seep out from the unlit room. 

When they brought Julian out of the tunnels and up to the altar, he was only wearing a pair of boxers. He looked like he’d been drug through hell and back already. His face was caked with mud and filth, and his hair was slick with dampness. 

This explains why he hasn’t been at practices this week. I knew something was up, but I never would have guessed the reason behind his absence. 

As we’re preparing to go upstairs where our living quarters are, I’m halted by the gruff call of my name. 

“Cromwell.” Sebastian’s voice cuts through the bustle of shuffling footsteps. “A word.” 

I suck in a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever comes next. Being part of this society has its perks, but the tasks they ask of us can be brutal. I’ll do it though; I’ll do anything for this brotherhood.

Long strides lead me to him and I refuse to so much as flinch when he lifts the X-shaped branding iron Julian was stamped with. He rubs a wet cloth over it, creating a puff of white steam before wiping it clean. With his mask pushed up on his head like a makeshift hat, his eyebrows cut low, creasing his forehead as he and Aidric assess me. Likely searching for any sign of trepidation, which they will not find. 

“We have a job for you,” Sebastian says, tone stoic.

“A job?” I question, standing taller.

He nods. “Assuming you’re willing to prove you’re the man we think you are.” Aidric pats a strong hand down on my shoulder. 

“Tell me what you need me to do, and consider it done,” I say without a bite of hesitation. I rub my bloody fists together, ready for  something new. I can do this. Where there is a Lord, there is power. And I am a Lord.

“Now that Julian is gone, we need to fill his position.” Sebastian looks at Aidric, tilting his head toward me as they engage in a silent conversation. All the while, my heart is ready to flee my damn chest. 

I’ve been chosen? 

A mix of emotions ripple through me—uncertainty, unease—but more than anything, I’m fucking elated. 

Sebastian’s gaze saunters back to mine. “I must warn you, the position comes with a hefty price tag. You’ll never be the same again.” 

The logical part of my brain tells me to turn it down, but the fucked-up part of it speaks for me. For the first time in my life, I’ve been chosen. “I’m in.” 

I don’t even need to think twice. I’m. Fucking. In. 

Sebastian’s mouth draws up in a wide grin. “Wonderful. Your instructions will be delivered shortly. Until then, I suggest you mentally prepare. You’ll soon learn what it feels like to lose who you are, before rebuilding yourself into someone better—someone powerful.” 

Aidric tips his head at me, a devious glint in his eyes. They walk toward the stairs and I take a look around the empty space. A rush of courage floods through me as I stand down here in the chambers, alone in the silence. There is strength in this room, a humming energy that draws me in. It’s as if our ancestors are calling out to me, encouraging me forward on this path. I take it all in. This is the only place I’ve ever been accepted. This is where I belong. This is my calling. 

Whatever comes next, I’m ready. I’m an Ice Lord, and it’ll be my honor to serve our members.