The air grew colder as they ascended from the chasm, the oppressive heat of the Ashen Wastes left behind. The relic pulsed faintly in Kael's satchel, its presence a constant reminder of the power they now carried. Each step felt heavier, as if the shard itself was resisting their progress.
Tharion walked ahead, his sword slung across his back, while the cursed knight brought up the rear, his expression unreadable. Kael lagged slightly behind, his mind clouded with questions.
"Does it feel... alive to you?" Kael asked, breaking the silence.
Tharion glanced over his shoulder. "What?"
"The relic," Kael said. "It's not just a tool, is it? There's something more to it."
The knight chuckled dryly. "The boy's starting to understand."
Kael frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The gods didn't just create these relics," the knight said. "They poured their essence into them—fragments of their own power. When you hold that shard, you're carrying a piece of divinity itself."
Kael's hand instinctively moved to the satchel, feeling the faint warmth emanating from within. "Is that why it feels... heavy?"
"In more ways than one," the knight replied. "The relic isn't just a burden on your body. It's a weight on your soul."
Tharion's voice was sharp. "If it's so dangerous, why did the gods leave it behind?"
The knight's grin was humorless. "Because they were arrogant. They thought their creations could be controlled, even after they abandoned this world. But the relics don't care about loyalty or intent. They only care about power."
Kael's stomach churned. "And if we fail?"
"Then the Shadow wins," the knight said simply.
The weight of those words pressed down on Kael as they continued their climb.
---
They emerged from the chasm to find the Ashen Wastes cloaked in twilight. The red lightning in the distance was brighter now, its arcs splitting the sky like jagged scars.
Tharion scanned the horizon. "How far to the next relic?"
The knight shrugged. "Far enough. Each relic is hidden in a place tied to the gods' essence. The next one lies in the Vale of Mists, beyond the Glass Mountains."
Kael frowned. "The Glass Mountains? That's weeks away on foot."
"Unless we find faster means," the knight said, his tone dismissive. "But you'll need to rest first. You won't survive the Vale of Mists if you're already half-dead."
Kael opened his mouth to argue, but the exhaustion weighing on him was undeniable. Tharion nodded, his practical nature winning out. "We make camp for the night."
They found shelter in the shadow of a crumbling outcrop, its jagged edges offering some protection from the elements. Tharion set about building a small fire, while the knight lounged nearby, his rusted blade resting across his lap.
Kael sat a short distance away, his gaze fixed on the relic. It glimmered faintly in the firelight, its crystalline surface almost hypnotic.
"Don't stare at it too long," the knight said, breaking the silence.
Kael blinked, startled. "Why not?"
"It'll start whispering to you," the knight said. "Promises of power, visions of glory. It's a trap. The gods loved those."
Kael's fingers tightened around the satchel. "Why are you helping us? You don't seem the type to care about saving the world."
The knight's grin was sharp. "You're right. I don't care. But I've been bound to this curse for longer than you can imagine, boy. If helping you break the Shadow means I can finally rest, then so be it."
Tharion, who had been silently tending the fire, spoke up. "And what happens if the relics consume him before we finish this quest?"
The knight shrugged. "Then you'll need to find another mage. Simple as that."
Kael glared at him. "You're awfully casual about this."
"Because I've seen this story play out before," the knight said, his tone darkening. "Heroes rise, heroes fall. The world keeps turning. You think you're special, boy, but you're just another piece on the gods' game board."
Kael's anger flared. "We're not just pieces. We're fighting to stop the Shadow, to save everyone. Doesn't that mean something?"
The knight's expression softened, just for a moment. "It means you've still got hope. Don't lose it, boy. You'll need it."
---
The night passed uneventfully, though Kael's dreams were plagued by strange visions. He saw the relic glowing brighter, its light consuming the darkness around it. But the light wasn't warm or comforting—it was cold, sharp, and unyielding.
When he woke, the relic's faint pulse seemed to echo in his chest.
Tharion was already awake, sharpening his blade, while the knight leaned against the rock wall, his eyes closed but his posture alert.
"We move at first light," Tharion said without looking up.
Kael nodded, his resolve hardening. Whatever trials lay ahead, they couldn't afford to falter. The Shadow was coming, and time was running out.