The forest loomed darker than ever as the trio moved cautiously toward the faint sound Kieran had heard. The broken groan of a voice echoed faintly in the distance, its unnatural cadence sending chills through the already tense air.
"What do you think it is?" Sarina whispered, her dagger drawn and ready.
"Someone—or something—hurt," Kieran replied, his sharp eyes scanning the trees ahead. "But it doesn't sound like it's calling for help."
"It's not," Eron said evenly, his gray eyes narrowing. "But we're checking it out anyway."
Sarina huffed, her amber eyes darting toward the shadows. "This is how people die in the Bastion, you know. Hearing things that aren't meant for them."
"If it's nothing, we'll leave," Eron said simply. "If it's someone alive, we help. That's it."
"Sure," Sarina muttered under her breath. "Let's just keep pretending the Bastion doesn't love ambushes."
Signs of a Battle
When they reached the clearing, the air grew heavy, tinged with the acrid stench of corrupted Flowline energy. The scene before them was pure devastation.
Splintered trees formed jagged barricades around the battlefield. Deep gouges marred the ground, and scorch marks blackened the surrounding terrain. The Flowlines pulsed unevenly beneath the earth, as if scarred by the violence.
Kieran stepped forward, his hand brushing against a shard of metal embedded in the dirt. "What the...?" He knelt, pulling out the broken hilt of a dagger. His jaw tightened as he turned it over in his hand. "Ryn's."
Sarina stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes locked onto the bodies.
Mira lay near a tree root, her arm outstretched toward her dagger, now dull and lifeless. Blood pooled beneath her, staining the ground a dark crimson. Ryn's broken body was slumped against a boulder, his limbs twisted unnaturally. His trademark grin, always so full of mischief, was gone forever.
"No..." Sarina whispered, her voice breaking. She stumbled back, her hand flying to her mouth. "No, no, no. They're gone."
Kieran stared at the bodies, his grip tightening around Ryn's broken blade. "Damn it."
Eron's sharp gaze shifted from the bodies to a third figure near the center of the clearing. "Tyris," he said, already moving toward him.
Kieran stood quickly, his voice edged with tension. "Is he alive?"
Eron crouched beside the Abyssal Tides leader, his fingers pressing against Tyris's neck. After a tense moment, he nodded. "Barely."
Sarina, still trembling, shook her head. "We can't stay here. Whatever did this—it might still be out there."
Eron's gray eyes flicked to the horizon. The sun was sinking fast, the shadows of the Bastion creeping closer. "We don't have a choice. He won't survive if we move him now."
Kieran scanned the treeline, his expression grim. "Then we better set up camp and keep our guard up."
Signs of the Wraithbound
Before they could begin setting up camp, Eron's sharp gaze fell on a series of jagged marks clawed deep into the earth near the center of the clearing. He knelt to inspect them, his fingers brushing the uneven grooves.
"Kieran," he said, his tone low.
Kieran joined him, his eyes narrowing as he studied the marks. "What are these?"
"They're claw marks," Eron replied grimly, standing. "Massive ones."
Sarina stepped closer, her amber eyes flicking between the scars in the ground and the shattered trees. "These weren't made by anything natural. What the hell did Tyris fight here?"
Eron's voice was steady, but the weight of his words pressed on them all. "A Wraithbound."
Kieran's face darkened. "A Wraithbound? In the Bastion?"
"They're Flowline corruption given form," Eron said. "If one was here, it means the area is unstable. The Flowlines could be on the verge of breaking—or worse."
Sarina paled, glancing at Tyris. "And Tyris fought it alone?" She shook her head. "No one survives a Wraithbound fight. Not alone."
Eron's eyes remained on the marks. "He didn't win cleanly, but he survived." His gaze shifted to the broken terrain surrounding them. "And if the Wraithbound was here, it might've been guarding something."
Kieran's jaw tightened. "The scrolls."
Sarina turned toward the treeline, her dagger still drawn. "If that thing was guarding the scrolls, then it's probably still close by."
"Or it's been forced to retreat," Eron added. "Either way, Tyris isn't moving anywhere tonight."
Kieran nodded reluctantly. "Fine. We'll camp here. But if anything like that comes back—"
"We'll be ready," Eron said, his voice calm but firm.
Sarina sighed, shaking her head as she crouched to unroll a small pack. "Let's just hope this isn't the stupidest thing we've done today."
Silent Camp
The fire crackled softly, its glow flickering over the clearing as the sun dipped fully below the horizon. The jagged remnants of the battlefield—splintered trees, charred earth, and blood-streaked rocks—seemed even more ominous under the shifting firelight. Mira and Ryn's bodies had been placed beneath the gnarled roots of a massive tree, their weapons arranged beside them in silent tribute. Tyris lay nearby, his breathing steady but shallow, aided by Sarina's and Eron's combined efforts earlier.
Eron sat in quiet contemplation, his sharp gray eyes fixed on the fire, while Sarina fidgeted with her dagger, her gaze distant. Kieran leaned back against a fallen log, occasionally tossing twigs into the flames, his usual smirk absent. The silence pressed on them all, a heavy weight made sharper by the Bastion's haunting stillness.
Finally, Kieran broke the quiet, his voice low but with a deliberate edge.
Kieran:
"So, Sarina. Why are you really here? All this effort to pass the Trials—what's it for?"
Sarina glanced at him, her amber eyes narrowing faintly. She flipped the dagger in her hand, catching it by the hilt before looking away again.
Sarina (without looking at him):
"I've told you. Becoming an Initiate gets me access to the Gladeborn archives. That's the goal."
Kieran leaned forward slightly, his tone light but probing.
Kieran:
"That's it? All this risk, all this danger, for... research?"
Sarina stilled, her grip on the dagger tightening. Her voice came sharper now, defensive.
Sarina:
"Not research. Recognition. Something I've had to fight for every day of my life."
Kieran arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Kieran:
"Recognition from who? Your sister? You've mentioned her enough times—might as well admit it."
Sarina's eyes snapped toward him, the firelight making them blaze brighter.
Sarina:
"You don't know anything about her."
Kieran held up his hands in mock surrender, but his tone softened, curiosity replacing the teasing.
Kieran:
"Then tell me. What's so special about her?"
Sarina hesitated, her gaze dropping to the fire. When she finally spoke, her voice had lost its sharpness, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.
Sarina (slowly):
"She's perfect. Respected. Talented. The kind of person who makes the Gladeborn proud just by existing."
Kieran tilted his head, watching her carefully.
Kieran:
"And you're not?"
Sarina let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.
Sarina:
"That's putting it lightly. She's the beacon of composure and control. Me? I'm the brash, stubborn little sister who can't seem to get it right. The shadow no one notices."
Her voice faltered slightly, but she pressed on, her words firm.
Sarina:
"I don't want to be her. I just... want to prove I can stand alongside her. That I'm not just someone trailing behind, hoping for scraps of approval."
Kieran nodded slowly, his smirk fading into something quieter.
Kieran (thoughtfully):
"Fair enough. But let me ask you this—what happens if you don't make it?"
Sarina frowned, her tone sharpening again.
Sarina:
"What kind of question is that?"
Kieran shrugged, tossing another stick into the fire.
Kieran:
"I mean, the Trials aren't exactly forgiving. Not everyone gets through. And even if you do... becoming an Initiate is just the start. You're tied to your clan forever. Every mistake, every failure—it's all on display. You really think that's what you want?"
Sarina met his gaze, her expression hardening.
Sarina:
"I can handle it. And I'm not going to fail."
Kieran gave a low chuckle, shaking his head.
Kieran:
"Confidence is good. Just hope it's enough."
Sarina narrowed her eyes, studying him.
Sarina (curious):
"What about you, then? Why are you here?"
Kieran hesitated, his smirk flickering briefly before vanishing altogether. He stared at the fire for a moment before responding.
Kieran (quietly):
"To fix something. Or at least... to fix what they think I broke."
Sarina frowned, tilting her head.
Sarina:
"What does that mean?"
Kieran let out a short, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair.
Kieran:
"My family. My parents, my little brother—they're someone. Respected. Accomplished. My brother passed the Trials last year, and now he's a rising star back in Stormhollow. And me?" He gestured vaguely to himself. "I'm the older brother who didn't make it. The one they'd rather forget."
Sarina's expression softened slightly, though she tried to keep her tone neutral.
Sarina:
"That doesn't make you less, Kieran."
Kieran smirked faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes.
Kieran:
"Try telling that to the rest of my clan. They're just waiting for me to screw up again. That's why I'm here. To show them I can be more than the guy who failed."
Sarina nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful.
Sarina:
"So, it's about redemption?"
Kieran (shrugging):
"Call it what you want. I just know I'm not leaving this place empty-handed."
Both turned their eyes to Eron, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, his expression unreadable as he stared into the fire.
Kieran (breaking the silence):
"What about you, Eron? Why are you here?"
Eron didn't respond immediately, his gray eyes steady but distant. When he finally spoke, his tone was calm but carried a quiet intensity.
Eron:
"To change things."
Sarina raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Kieran.
Sarina:
"Change what, exactly? The Trials? The clans?"
Eron's gaze lifted, meeting hers directly.
Eron:
"Everything."
The weight of his words hung in the air, heavier than anything else that had been said.
Sarina (leaning forward slightly):
"You're serious, aren't you?"
Eron tilted his head slightly, his voice unwavering.
Eron:
"Do I seem like someone who wastes time on things I'm not serious about?"
Kieran sat up straighter, his voice sharper now.
Kieran:
"Wait—you're not talking about... the Council, are you?"
The air grew taut as Eron didn't answer immediately.
Sarina (her voice lowering):
"The Ethereal Council? You can't mean that. They're untouchable. They maintain the Flowlines, keep order... even the kings listen to them."
Eron's voice remained calm, though there was an edge to it now.
Eron:
"They keep control. That's not the same as order."
Kieran's jaw tightened, his voice dropping.
Kieran:
"You don't say things like that, Eron. People vanish for less."
Sarina nodded, her voice hushed.
Sarina:
"Entire clans. Whole families. You don't talk about them. Ever."
Eron's gray eyes didn't waver.
Eron:
"Maybe that's the problem."
Sarina muttered under her breath as Eron stood abruptly, brushing dirt off his hands.
Eron:
"I'll scout ahead. Make sure nothing's lurking in the shadows."
He walked off into the darkness without another word, his figure disappearing into the Bastion's creeping gloom.
Sarina leaned back, shaking her head.
Sarina (to Kieran):
"He's really serious, isn't he?"
Kieran (smirking faintly):
"Serious? Sure. Insane? Definitely."
Sarina sighed, staring into the fire.
Sarina:
"Let's just hope his insanity doesn't get us all killed."
The fire burned lower as the Bastion's shadows crept closer, their eerie stillness amplifying the unease in the air. The trio's silence stretched on until Eron returned, his movements quiet but purposeful.
Eron (setting down his sword):
"The area's clear. Nothing out there... for now."
Kieran (leaning back, tired):
"That's the best news I've heard all day. What about Tyris?"
Eron:
"We'll move him closer to the fire. It'll keep him warm—and safer if anything shows up."
Sarina glanced toward Tyris, her expression still troubled.
Sarina:
"Safer. Not safe. Nothing is safe here."
Kieran (dryly):
"Well, aren't you a comforting presence tonight."
Sarina rolled her eyes but stood to help as Eron gently lifted Tyris. Together, they placed him on a makeshift bed of cloaks closer to the warmth of the fire.
Sarina (adjusting Tyris's blanket):
"That should do. At least he'll make it through the night."
Eron nodded, his gaze lingering on Tyris's pale face.
Eron (quietly):
"We all need to make it through the night."
The three of them settled back around the fire, exhaustion weighing heavily on their movements. Sarina fished out a small pack of dried rations, nibbling quietly, while Kieran stretched out with his arms behind his head, his sword resting close.
The silence grew again, only the crackle of the fire breaking the stillness.
Kieran (yawning):
"Well, this has been a cheerful evening. Can't wait to see what fresh horrors tomorrow brings."
Sarina gave him a sharp look but didn't reply, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Eron (adjusting his cloak as he leaned back):
"Rest while you can. We'll need our strength."
Sarina (softly):
"You think we'll even get to tomorrow?"
Eron (calmly):
"We don't have a choice."
The weight of his words settled over them like the night itself. One by one, they allowed exhaustion to pull them into uneasy rest, the fire burning low as the shadows of the Bastion loomed ever closer.