The wind swept across the valley as Kiran and Drayk trudged forward, leaving behind the crystalline battleground. The air still buzzed with residual energy from the clash with Morvas, a reminder of how close they'd come to disaster.
Kiran flexed his fingers, the faint afterglow of the Key's energy still tingling in his hand. The light-blade he'd summoned had felt like an extension of himself, powerful yet barely controlled.
"I've never felt anything like that," Kiran admitted, his voice hushed.
"That's because you've only just scratched the surface," Drayk said, his tone measured. "The Key is responding to your will now. That's good—but it's dangerous. Power without control is like a storm with no direction. Sooner or later, it'll destroy everything in its path."
Kiran glanced at the sigil on his wrist, its faint glow pulsing rhythmically. "How do I learn to control it?"
"Discipline," Drayk said. "And time. Both of which are in short supply."
That night, as they camped on the outskirts of the valley, Kiran's sleep was restless. The Key's energy seemed to hum in his dreams, pulling him into a world of shifting shadows and blinding light.
There, in the void, stood Morvas. The Riftlord's shadowy form flickered like a dying flame, but its presence was as menacing as ever.
"Bearer," Morvas said, its voice echoing in Kiran's mind. "You've awakened a power you don't understand. The Key is not your ally—it's your chain."
"I don't trust you," Kiran said, his dream-self braver than he felt in reality. "What do you want with me?"
Morvas's mask shifted, revealing a brief glimpse of something human beneath. "I was like you once—a Bearer. Chosen by the Rift to wield its power. But the Key is no gift. It's a curse. It consumes its wielder until nothing remains."
"Why should I believe you?" Kiran demanded.
"You've already felt it, haven't you?" Morvas said, stepping closer. "The way the Key pulls at your mind, whispers to your thoughts. It's only a matter of time before it consumes you, too."
Before Kiran could respond, the dream shattered, and he woke with a start.
The morning sun cast long shadows as they continued their journey. Kiran told Drayk about his dream, describing Morvas's warning in detail.
Drayk frowned, his expression unreadable. "Morvas wasn't lying, at least not entirely. The Key is powerful, but it's not without its cost. Every Bearer feels its pull, and some give in to it. They let the Rift shape them, turn them into something... less than human."
"Like Morvas?" Kiran asked.
Drayk nodded. "Exactly. He wasn't always a Riftlord. He was once like you—a Bearer who thought he could control the Key. But instead of mastering it, he let it master him."
Kiran swallowed hard. "So, what does he want now? Why not just take the Key from me?"
"Because he can't," Drayk said. "The Key is bound to you. The only way to take it is to break you—to make you surrender it willingly."
The weight of Drayk's words settled heavily on Kiran. Morvas wasn't just an enemy; he was a warning of what could happen if Kiran lost himself to the Key's power.
As they traveled, Kiran began experimenting cautiously with the Key's energy. He practiced summoning the light-blade, focusing on keeping it stable. Each time, the blade felt stronger, more defined, as if it were becoming a part of him.
But the more he used it, the more he felt the pull—the faint whispers at the edges of his mind, tempting him to push further, to unleash more power.
Drayk watched him closely, offering guidance when needed but keeping his distance. "You're doing better," he said one evening as Kiran successfully deflected a thrown rock with the light-blade. "But remember, the Key feeds on your intent. If you're reckless, it'll feed on that, too."
"I get it," Kiran said, though he couldn't ignore the thrill of wielding such power.
"You say that now," Drayk muttered, "but the Rift has a way of testing even the strongest wills."
As they approached the next Nexus point, the environment grew increasingly unstable. The sky darkened, and the air shimmered with strange distortions.
Kiran stopped abruptly, his sigil flaring brighter than ever. "Do you feel that?"
Drayk nodded, drawing his blade. "Another Riftlord. We're close."
The ground trembled, and a wave of dark energy swept through the trees. From the shadows emerged a figure, smaller than Morvas but equally menacing. Its form was cloaked in a swirling vortex of energy, and its voice was sharp and mocking.
"So, the Bearer marches on," the new Riftlord sneered. "Morvas warned us about you. Let's see if you're worth the trouble."
Kiran raised his light-blade, his pulse quickening. "I'm not afraid of you."
The Riftlord laughed. "Oh, little Bearer, you should be."
As the fight began, Kiran felt the Key's energy surge through him, stronger and more eager than ever. But in the back of his mind, he remembered Morvas's warning: The Key is not your ally—it's your chain.