The trio's footsteps echoed through the desolate halls of Karesh-Thal, the oppressive silence broken only by the distant howling of the wind outside. The cursed figure, who had yet to give his name, led the way with slow, deliberate strides. His gaunt form seemed to meld with the shadows, as though he were a part of them.
Kael followed closely, his staff glowing faintly in the dim light, while Tharion brought up the rear, his massive sword resting on his shoulder. The tension between them was palpable, the unspoken distrust hanging thick in the air.
"Where are we going?" Kael asked, breaking the uneasy silence.
"To the first relic," the cursed knight replied without looking back. "It lies beyond the Ashen Wastes, in a place few dare to tread."
Kael frowned. "Why there?"
The knight chuckled. "Because the gods have a sense of irony. They hid their greatest tools in the ruins of their greatest failures."
Tharion's voice was cold. "And why should we trust you to lead us there?"
"You shouldn't," the knight said, his tone almost amused. "But you will. Because you have no choice."
Kael glanced at Tharion, who offered no reply. He wasn't sure if it was restraint or silent agreement, but either way, it unsettled him.
---
As they emerged from the ruins, the storm loomed closer. The swirling clouds crackled with faint traces of red lightning, and the wind carried an unnatural chill. Kael tightened his cloak around him, shivering.
The cursed knight stopped abruptly and turned to face them. "Before we go any further, there's something you should know."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"
"The relics aren't just hidden—they're guarded."
"Guarded by what?" Tharion asked, his tone wary.
The knight's grin was sharp and humorless. "By the remnants of the gods' wrath. Beasts born of divine fury, twisted by centuries of neglect. They are neither living nor dead, and they will not hesitate to kill you."
Kael swallowed hard. "You're just now telling us this?"
"I thought you might prefer to turn back," the knight said with a shrug.
"We're not turning back," Kael said, his voice firmer than he felt.
Tharion nodded. "Good. Let's move."
---
The **Ashen Wastes** stretched before them, a landscape of jagged black rocks and swirling gray dust. The air was heavy with the stench of sulfur, and the ground beneath their feet crumbled with every step.
Kael's magic offered little comfort against the oppressive heat and the occasional tremors that rippled through the ground. He couldn't help but feel exposed, as though unseen eyes were watching their every move.
"This place feels alive," he muttered.
"It is," the knight said simply. "The gods' anger still festers here, long after their presence has faded."
Kael didn't have time to respond before the ground beneath them began to shift. A low, rumbling growl echoed through the air, and cracks began to form in the rocky terrain.
"Something's coming," Tharion said, his sword already in his hands.
The cracks widened, and from the fissures emerged creatures that looked like they had been sculpted from the rock itself. Their jagged forms glowed faintly with molten veins, and their eyes burned like embers.
"Wrathlings," the cursed knight said, his tone almost casual. "Don't let them touch you. Their fire burns more than flesh."
Before Kael could ask what that meant, the first creature lunged at him, its clawed hand swiping through the air. He barely managed to raise his staff in time, a burst of light repelling the creature.
Tharion was already in motion, his blade cleaving through another wrathling with brutal efficiency. The molten veins of the creature sputtered and dimmed as it collapsed into a heap of crumbling rock.
The cursed knight joined the fray, his rusted sword moving with a speed that belied its weight. His strikes were precise, each one finding the weak points in the creatures' rocky exteriors.
Kael struggled to keep up, his magic flaring erratically as he fought to repel the onslaught. His heart pounded as the creatures pressed closer, their heat searing his skin even from a distance.
"Focus, boy!" Tharion barked, cutting down another wrathling.
Kael grit his teeth and planted his feet, channeling his magic into a concentrated blast of energy. The light struck the nearest creature, shattering it into fragments.
The cursed knight let out a dry laugh. "Not bad, mage. You might survive this after all."
Kael didn't have time to reply before another wave of wrathlings emerged from the fissures. They were larger this time, their molten veins pulsing with greater intensity.
"We need to move!" Tharion shouted.
"This way!" the knight called, leading them toward a narrow crevice in the rocks.
Kael and Tharion followed, their movements frantic as the creatures gave chase. The heat grew unbearable, and Kael's lungs burned with every breath, but they managed to squeeze through the crevice just as the creatures reached them.
The wrathlings clawed at the entrance, but the narrow passage prevented them from following. Kael collapsed against the rock wall, gasping for air.
"Is it always like this?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
The cursed knight grinned. "You've seen nothing yet, boy."
Tharion sheathed his sword and turned to the knight. "How far to the relic?"
"Closer than you think," the knight said. "But the worst is yet to come."
Kael exchanged a glance with Tharion, the weight of their task pressing down on him. If this was only the beginning, he wasn't sure how much further he could go.
But turning back wasn't an option. Not with the Shadow growing stronger every day.