Dawn crept slowly over the horizon, its golden rays piercing the cold remnants of the night. The group stirred reluctantly, their exhaustion still heavy from the encounter with the wraithhounds. Kael sat by the remains of the fire, turning the crystal fragment over in his hands. The strange etchings on its surface seemed to shift in the morning light, as though alive.
Vaelin stretched, groaning. "Well, that was fun. Who wants to take bets on what other nightmares are drawn to these shards?"
"No bets," Maris replied dryly, tightening the straps of her quiver. "We'd all lose."
Kael looked up, his expression serious. "Last night wasn't random. Those creatures knew exactly what they were looking for. It means we need to move quickly—and carefully."
Serin nodded, her staff resting at her side. "Kael's right. If the shards are radiating that much energy, we're going to attract more enemies, maybe worse ones. We need to figure out how to control their power before it controls us."
Vaelin leaned on his sword, raising an eyebrow. "And how do you propose we do that, Serin? The shards didn't exactly come with an instruction manual."
Serin frowned, her fingers drumming against her staff. "We need information—ancient texts, records, anything that can tell us what these things are and what they're meant to do."
Kael stood, slipping the fragment into his pouch. "Then we find it. Whatever answers are out there, we'll track them down. But first, we need to reach the outpost."
---
A Familiar Warning
The road ahead was rough, the terrain shifting from forested slopes to barren hills. Hours passed in silence, the weight of the shards hanging heavily over the group. As they crested a ridge, the sight of the outpost finally came into view—a small cluster of buildings nestled against a rocky escarpment.
Relief washed over them, but as they drew closer, Kael noticed something was wrong. The outpost was eerily quiet, its gates standing open.
"Not exactly the warm welcome I was expecting," Vaelin muttered, his hand on his sword.
Kael raised a hand to silence him, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Stay sharp. Something's not right."
The group entered cautiously, their footsteps echoing in the stillness. The outpost appeared abandoned, its streets empty. Tools lay scattered as if dropped in haste, and the faint smell of smoke lingered in the air.
"Where is everyone?" Maris whispered, her bow drawn.
Kael moved toward the main square, his senses on high alert. As they rounded a corner, they found their answer.
Bodies.
A dozen soldiers lay sprawled across the ground, their armor scorched and twisted. The sight was brutal, but what caught Kael's attention was the symbol carved into the stone at the center of the square—a jagged, spiral sigil that pulsed faintly with dark energy.
Serin gasped. "That's… a summoning mark. Whoever did this was calling something here."
Kael approached the mark, his stomach twisting. The shards in his pouch pulsed faintly, as if reacting to the sigil. He knelt, examining it closely.
"This isn't just any summoning," he said, his voice grim. "It's tied to the shards. Whoever left this mark knew about them—and they're trying to draw them out."
Before anyone could respond, a voice echoed from the shadows.
"You're quick to notice. But not quick enough to leave."
The group spun around, weapons at the ready. A figure emerged from the shadows, clad in dark robes that seemed to ripple unnaturally. His face was obscured by a hood, but his presence exuded menace.
"Who are you?" Kael demanded, stepping forward.
The figure chuckled, a hollow, grating sound. "A herald of the inevitable. You carry what does not belong to you, and it will cost you dearly."
Vaelin stepped beside Kael, his sword raised. "You've got about five seconds to explain yourself before I cut you down."
The figure ignored him, its attention fixed on Kael. "The shards are not gifts—they are curses. You think you can wield them, but they will consume you. And when they do, the world will pay the price."
Kael's grip tightened on his dagger. "If you know so much about the shards, then tell me—what are they? Why are they here?"
The figure tilted its head, as if considering the question. "They are fragments of a broken truth, scattered to prevent the rise of what once was. But now, you gather them again, and the chains weaken."
"What chains?" Serin demanded. "What are you talking about?"
The figure raised a hand, and the sigil on the ground flared to life. Dark energy swirled around him, his form shifting and distorting.
"Seek your answers if you must," he said, his voice echoing unnaturally. "But know this—each step you take brings you closer to the end."
Before anyone could react, the figure vanished, leaving only the glowing sigil behind.
---
Uncertain Paths
The group stood in stunned silence, the weight of the figure's words sinking in.
"That was... unsettling," Maris said, lowering her bow.
Kael turned back to the sigil, his mind racing. The figure's warning echoed in his ears, but it only strengthened his resolve.
"We can't let fear stop us," he said, his voice steady. "If the shards are as dangerous as he claims, then it's even more important that we control them. Whatever truth is out there, we'll find it—and we'll make sure no one else uses these shards for destruction."
Serin placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're right. But we need to be careful, Kael. Whoever that was, they won't be the last to stand in our way."
Vaelin sheathed his sword, his expression grim. "Then let them come. If they want a fight, they'll get one."
The group left the square, their resolve hardened. The path ahead was growing darker, but Kael knew they couldn't turn back now. The shards were a mystery, but they were also a responsibility—and one he couldn't ignore.
As they prepared to leave the outpost, Kael felt the weight of the shards pressing against his chest. The journey was far from over, but one thing was clear—whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.