The fortress felt like a tomb. Its once proud stone walls stood silent and empty, the halls echoing only the sound of Kael's footsteps as he moved through the abandoned chambers. Dust covered the ground, and the air was thick with the scent of decay and time long forgotten.
Harlan and Veyron followed closely behind, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement, but there was none. It was as if the place had been untouched for years, though the scattered supplies and faded footprints told a different story. Someone had been here recently.
"Check the lower levels," Kael ordered, his voice tight with frustration.
The others nodded, splitting off into different directions, their faces etched with weariness. They were all exhausted, pushed to the edge by the relentless chase and the battles they had faced. But now, standing in this empty fortress, Kael could feel something gnawing at the back of his mind.
The silence hung heavy around him as Kael made his way deeper into the fortress, his sword still in hand. He had expected to find answers here, but instead, all he found were more questions. The air was thick with the sense of something being wrong, as if they had arrived too late.
He reached the main hall, its once grand interior now crumbling, the walls lined with the faded remnants of banners from a forgotten era. The place had been abandoned for some time, but there were signs of recent activity, scattered supplies, discarded weapons, and the faint remnants of a campfire.
Kael knelt by the fire, his fingers brushing the cold ashes. Whoever had been here hadn't left long ago, but they were gone now.
As Kael stood, a faint sound echoed through the hall, a low creaking, barely audible over the silence. His eyes narrowed as he turned toward the far side of the room, where an old door stood slightly ajar, its hinges rusted with age.
Moving cautiously, Kael approached the door, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. He pushed it open with a soft creak, revealing a narrow stairwell leading down into the depths of the fortress.
"Veyron," Kael called over his shoulder. "Get down here."
Veyron appeared a moment later, his face pale but alert. "What is it?"
"Something down here," Kael replied, nodding toward the stairwell. "Let's go."
They descended into the darkness, the air growing colder with each step. The stairwell opened into a narrow corridor, lined with old, crumbling stone. The scent of damp and mildew clung to the air, and Kael's eyes scanned the shadows for any sign of movement.
At the end of the corridor, they found what they were looking for, a small chamber, its walls lined with old crates and supplies. But that wasn't what caught Kael's attention. In the center of the room was a table, and on it lay a single parchment, its edges curled and yellowed with age.
Kael approached the table, his heart pounding in his chest. The parchment was covered in markings, symbols and words written in a language he didn't fully understand. But one thing was clear: it was a message.
Veyron leaned over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he scanned the page. "This is... it's from Kerric."
Veyron's breath caught in his throat as he read the words:
"The enemy is closer than you think. Trust no one. I've gone to find answers, follow the path north, but be prepared for what you'll find. Kerric."
Kael's mind raced. Kerric had been here, but he had already moved on. The path north... what did Kerric mean? And who was this enemy he spoke of?
"We should follow him," Veyron said, his voice filled with urgency. "If Kerric's heading north, he knows something. We can't just sit here."
Kael's jaw clenched as he stared at the parchment. His mind was spinning with possibilities. The Iron Circle was still hunting them, and every move they made put them in greater danger. But this was Kerric's message, his call for them to follow.
"I don't like this," Harlan muttered, stepping into the room. "What if it's a trap? We've been running blind, and now you want us to follow a trail that might lead us straight into their hands?"
Kael turned to face him, his eyes cold. "This is Kerric. If anyone knows what's going on, it's him."
"But we don't know where this path leads," Harlan snapped. "We're running ourselves into the ground, and for what? A few cryptic words on a piece of paper?"
The tension in the room was thick, and Kael could feel the weight of their doubts pressing down on him. His own mind was filled with uncertainty—Kerric's message was vague, and the path north could lead them straight into the Iron Circle's trap. But what choice did they have? If Kerric was still alive, he was their only chance of finding out the truth.
"We follow him," Kael said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Kerric wouldn't send us north unless he knew something important. We can't afford to wait."
Harlan shook his head, frustration clear on his face, but he didn't argue further. The others remained silent, their eyes filled with exhaustion and doubt. Kael knew they were reaching their limit, but he also knew they couldn't afford to stop now.
As they gathered their supplies and prepared to leave the fortress, Kael's mind raced with questions. Kerric's message had given them a direction, but it hadn't given them answers. And as they set off into the night, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking straight into a trap.
But there was no turning back now. The path north was their only option.